Chapter 22: Freedom

The golden-backed red-bellied fish trapped in the fish basket was released. Indeed, it was a Spirit Beast. As it leapt out of the basket, it soared into the air, transforming mid-flight into a massive form stretching over ten zhang in length. Its scales gleamed like a blade array, its fins sharp as banners, and from its gaping maw, a human voice emerged—soft, trembling, and heartbreakingly pleading:

"Senior, I swear I will never again harm a human life. Please, spare me."

The monstrous, terrifying fish head bobbed up and down, mimicking the gesture of a person bowing in the air.

Li Hao was hit by a wave of pungent, fishy stench, instinctively pinching his nose. He nearly gagged.

This fish… it really is stinking!

"Spared? Then I’d be left empty-handed—like fishing with no catch at all," Li Moxiu remarked dryly.

The Spirit Beast froze in terror. Its body trembled violently, yet it dared not rage.

"Into the pot!"

Li Moxiu raised a finger.

Though the beast had begged, it had already transformed into its true form and was ready to flee at any moment. Now, seeing the old man refuse to spare it, it twisted its body, turning the empty sky into a sea, aiming to escape into the distance.

But before it could shift direction, it convulsed as if struck by lightning. Blood erupted from its gills and mouth in violent spurts. Its monstrous frame shattered in midair—ripped apart as if countless invisible blades were slicing it on an invisible chopping block in the void.

Strangely, the blood droplets, before they could even touch the ground, were swept away by a sudden gust of wind—vanishing without a trace.

The same fate befell the scattered remains of the beast. In the air, only a fist-sized, lustrous, dark purple Demon Core remained, along with several pieces of snow-white fish flesh.

Li Moxiu waved his hand. The Demon Core floated into the boiling pot. The white fish meat, suspended in the air, was sliced into translucent, delicate flakes by invisible blades, then gently lowered into the water as it simmered.

Then, from who-knows-where, the old man produced a salt jar. He scooped two spoonfuls into the pot, covered it, and let it simmer.

Li Hao stared in awe, finally gaining a tangible understanding of the true might of Martial Practitioners on the cultivation path.

This… this is a Spirit Beast. This is true power.

"Grandfather," Li Hao asked curiously, "that purple orb—surely that’s the Demon Core, right? Shouldn’t it be eaten raw?"

"Where’d you hear that?" Li Moxiu glanced at him sideways, voice calm. "Afraid of the stench? Demon Cores must be refined with countless alchemical ingredients to be effective. And they can’t be mixed haphazardly—each Spirit Beast has its own unique properties. Only trained alchemists know how to handle them properly. Eating raw? Ha. That’s like a commoner killing a tiger and boiling its bones for soup—think you can digest it?"

"Then what are you doing?"

"Using it as food. Sure, it wastes most of its power—but I don’t really need it anyway. I’m just tasting the flavor. As for you, you’ll drink a little broth and eat a few slices to fill your belly. That level of Demon Core is far beyond your current capacity."

"Ah, I see."

Li Hao nodded, not feeling the slightest regret.

After all, the Divine General’s Residence was overflowing with refined pills and elixirs. Even if the Demon Core were a raw material, it was still a luxury compared to the countless ready-made medicines within.

Still, he’d tested it after failing his Foundation Establishment cultivation. All those spiritual pills and elixirs? To him, they were just food—filling his stomach, nothing more. Any effects meant for the Ordinary Stage were instantly blocked by his body.

Yet, despite the abundance of medicinal treasures, the household rationed them strictly among the younger generations. After all, Ordinary Stage elixirs carried a three-part poison. While they could accelerate progress, true mastery of the highest realms came not from pills, but from one’s own strength—because reliance on external aids risked severe backlash.

…

The water in the pot bubbled again, steam gently rocking the lid.

Li Moxiu lifted the lid with his heartless iron hand, the ceramic cap popping open. A surge of hot vapor burst forth—but a light breeze brushed it aside, never touching the rafters of the pavilion.

The scent of fish filled the air, though it was tainted with an overpowering fishy odor.

Li Hao frowned slightly. He hadn’t even tasted it yet, but instinct told him it wouldn’t be delicious.

"Come on, try it," Li Moxiu said, pulling out a pair of chopsticks—black and grimy, which he wiped on his sleeve before plunging them into the dark, meaty lump resembling a braised lion’s head. He took a huge bite.

At the same time, he waved his hand. A branch swaying outside the pavilion snapped off mid-air and flew into his palm.

"Peel off the bark—it’s usable now," he said, handing it to Li Hao.

Li Hao didn’t protest. He wasn’t one to be stiff or formal. He sat cross-legged beside the old man, right there on the rooftop of the Pavilion of Listening to Rain—the sacred ground revered by all Martial Practitioners—peeled the green bark off the branch, snapped it in half, and used it as a skewer to lift a translucent, glistening piece of fish.

To his surprise, the fish, boiled under the lid, hadn’t disintegrated. It held its shape like jelly—tender, smooth, and cool to the touch.

He held the lid above his head to catch any drips, then slurped it up with a satisfied ssssss.

"How’s it taste?"

"Good. Really good. Just… a bit too fishy."

"Fishy? I don’t even notice."

"You’re covered in fish smell. Of course you don’t."

"Hey, brat, how dare you speak to me like that!"

"Hey, I’m not wrong."

"Hmph. You’re lucky you’ve got me. If anyone else were teaching you, you’d be split in two by now."

"Others? I don’t even want to talk about them."

"Wow, big mouth you’ve got."

And so they ate—old man and young, neither acting like a master nor a student. No pretense, no fear. When the fish was gone and the broth drained, they both flopped backward, legs splayed wide, and sighed in unison:

"Ah… perfect."

Their posture was identical.

"You’re quite the kid," Li Moxiu said, eyeing Li Hao, then burst into laughter.

Li Hao smiled faintly, lying on his back, gazing out at the sky beyond the eaves. Night had fallen. Faint starlight began to pierce the darkness.

A gentle breeze drifted up from below, from the hills and valleys, carrying a refreshing, light sensation.

For the first time, he realized—what mattered wasn’t the glittering palace, the servants, the wealth, the status.

It was this—this moment of pure, effortless freedom.

He lay there in silence, letting the stillness settle. Then, suddenly, he turned his head.

"Grandfather," he asked, "when you fish… do you have a technique?"

"Ah? Now you want to learn?"

Li Moxiu looked at him with genuine interest.

"I’ll be taking over tomorrow. Let’s see who catches more," Li Hao grinned.

Li Moxiu couldn’t help but laugh.

He never expected one of the wooden-headed fools from the Li family to produce such a lively, spirited child.

"Excellent. From now on, you’ll learn fishing from me. Fishing is cultivation too. Like me—when I cast my line, even the Three Immortals would be yanked off their perch!"

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with quiet pride—not pride in power, but in skill. In mastery of the art.

Li Hao couldn’t hold back his laughter. He even imagined it: a towering figure at the peak of the Martial world, a Three Immortal Realm master, his mouth twisted sideways by the force of a fishing hook.

Too damn vivid.

"You laughing?" Li Moxiu raised an eyebrow, feigning annoyance.

"Of course I believe you!" Li Hao said between laughs. "It’s just… the image is too funny!"

He doubled over, laughing again.

Li Moxiu paused, then chuckled himself. "Yeah… I suppose it is a bit ridiculous."

"Tomorrow, when we get there, I’ll teach you properly. First, practice your hand. Talking won’t help you now. Go to bed early tonight. I’ll get you a fishing rod."

With that, he stood, patted his backside, and swept the leftover embers and the iron pot into his sleeve—vanishing without a trace.

Then, in a single step, he disappeared into the vast night.

The next morning. Dawn broke, just as the sky turned pale.

Li Moxiu woke Li Hao.

Luckily, Li Hao had slept early, so he wasn’t drowsy.

"Is it really time to go?" he asked.

"Of course. Morning fishing must be done early—this is when the fish are most active."

Li Moxiu smiled. Usually, he fished alone—rod, basket, and silence. But today, with a young apprentice at his side, his spirits were even higher.

"Here’s your fishing rod. Hold on to it."

From nowhere, the old man produced a black fishing rod.

Li Hao took it—and nearly dropped it. It was heavy, surprisingly so. But for a Peak Strength Consolidation cultivator, it wasn’t a burden. In fact, Li Hao’s strength was ten times that of an average Peak Strength Consolidation cultivator.

Still, he estimated: this rod required at least a Strength Integration Realm cultivator, four or five levels deep, to wield it properly.

Seeing Li Hao take it so easily, Li Moxiu’s eyes flickered with surprise.

"Seems Li Fu wasn’t lying after all. You really do have body cultivation talent. Did you truly master that art?"

Only then did Li Hao realize—this fishing rod wasn’t random. The old man had chosen it based on his cultivation level. He’d put thought into it.

Wild Ox Strength was a low-grade body cultivation art. Even at its peak, it only reached around Strength Integration Realm six.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end