Chapter 29: The Li Family Are All Flops

The inner library was a labyrinth of martial arts knowledge—complex and meticulously categorized. Yet despite Li Hao’s thorough search through several hours, he found no mention of the Taiyin Meridian in any of the Combat Scriptures. The path remained stubbornly obscure.

Instead, he stumbled upon two mid-to-lower-tier Body Cultivation Techniques, which he immediately acquired. His Body Cultivation level inched upward in a subtle but meaningful upgrade.

That evening, Li Moxiu returned from the sky, his expression weary.

Seeing Li Hao holding the Dragon River Divine Meridian Scripture, Li Moxiu shook his head with a wry smile. “So you’re already thinking about Meridian Opening? Have you even entered the Circulation Realm yet? Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Just entered,” Li Hao replied.

“?” Li Moxiu blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “You’ve already reached the Beginner stage of the Hundred-Drake Body?”

“Mm-hmm,” Li Hao nodded. Wasn’t "great completion" basically the same as "beginner"?

“Alright, show me your form,” Li Moxiu said without further delay, gesturing for Li Hao to demonstrate. The truth would be clear in an instant.

Li Hao didn’t hold back. He launched into the form with confidence, unguarded and open.

Though he’d only been training for a short time, the sensation Li Hao received from the old man was remarkably clear—so open, so honest. If the elder had wanted to harm him, Li Hao wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Besides, it was just the Great Completion stage of the Hundred-Drake Body—nothing extraordinary, right?

As his fists flew, Qi surged through his limbs. Instantly, a dragon-like Qi aura erupted from him—powerful, wild, like a celestial serpent bursting from the ocean.

Li Moxiu froze. His eyes widened, then locked onto Li Hao in stunned silence.

Beginner stage? That was nothing special—merely a sign of exceptional talent. The Li family didn’t lack geniuses. Throw a stone at random, and you’d hit a servant—or a prodigy.

But Great Completion? That was a whole different level.

One day to begin… one day to reach Great Completion?!

Good heavens. This kind of Body Cultivation talent was on par with even Xiao Jiu’s natural gift.

Li Moxiu studied Li Hao with new eyes. Was this child really that talented in Body Cultivation?

Then he sighed inwardly—too bad. Such brilliance, yet only in Body Cultivation. What a waste.

He didn’t voice it, but the thought lingered. He disliked ambition and fame, but cultivating—anyone would welcome that. It was a blessing.

When Li Hao finished his form, he noticed the old man still lost in thought. With wide, innocent eyes, he seized the moment.

“Grandfather,” he asked, “I saw the words Abyss Meridian in another Tai Chu Scripture. What exactly is this Meridian?”

“Still digging through that Secret Manual?” Li Moxiu snapped back, frowning instantly. His expression hardened. “You haven’t started cultivating it, have you?”

He stared at Li Hao’s young face, saw the genuine innocence in his eyes, and realized he’d jumped to conclusions. The boy was barely a child—how could he have wasted time on side paths when he’d just managed to reach Great Completion in the Hundred-Drake Body?

Before Li Hao could answer, Li Moxiu continued, voice grave:

“You have exceptional talent in Body Cultivation—this is a gift. But don’t ruin it. Too many geniuses fall because they’re overconfident in their youth. They’re full of Qi, boastful of their intelligence, and dabble in everything—medicine, poison, martial arts, swordplay, magic. They become jack-of-all-trades, but masters of none. And then? They get wiped out by a peer who mastered just one thing.”

He leaned forward. “Look at the titles—Sword Saint, Spear God, Arrow King. These are legends. Do they not understand the value of balance? No. They focus. They refine one path, endlessly. A human life is short. Even a lifetime isn’t enough to master a single road. How could you possibly master two?”

He paused, then added:

“That’s why our family is strong. We have resources. We grow up in comfort. But wanderers—those without lineage—face hardship from childhood. They learn whatever helps them survive. They’re forced to master many things.”

He gestured sharply. “We don’t have to. We can choose.”

“Others may learn poison, healing, fists, blades. But so what? In the same realm, they gain an edge. But how much time does it take? Ten years? Then someone else spends ten years mastering one path—and they’re stronger. Even a single level difference in Realm could mean your death.”

“So only when you hit a dead end—when you’ve exhausted your path—should you consider branching out. Not before.”

His words were heavy, sincere. Li Hao understood.

Total mastery was powerful—but time was not on your side.

But this was true for ordinary martial practitioners.

For Li Hao? He had a Panel Cheat.

Still, until he had enough Art Skill Points to spare, he could only focus on Sword Dao and his body. Right now, his body was priority—Realm first.

After delivering his lecture, Li Moxiu sighed, then relaxed again, his tone light.

“About that Abyss Meridian… it’s part of the Tai Chu Cultivation Art. That’s why this incomplete Combat Scripture is kept on the Sixth Floor. But to open it, you must progress through three stages—slow, painstaking work. Even with high悟性 (understanding), it might take five or eight years. With low悟性, thirty or forty years might not be enough.”

He shook his head. “So valuable, yet ultimately… unattainable for now.”

“Ah?” Li Hao leaned forward, intrigued. He sat cross-legged, listening.

“The Abyss Meridian is also known as the Taiyin Meridian. Besides the standard Meridian Opening, there are said to be 108 hidden meridians in the human body,” Li Moxiu explained. “Our family’s strongest, the Dragon River Divine Meridian, can open 54. The Imperial Clan’s Dong Huang Scripture can open 62—the peak of Meridian Opening Techniques.”

“But 108? We’re still far from that. Whether such a number truly exists remains just a legend.”

“Beyond those 108, there are two great meridians—the Taiyin Meridian and the Tai Yang Meridian. Opening either grants special powers to your Combat Scripture—more devastating attacks, greater dominance. And they can hold far more Qi, circulating it through the body tenfold.”

He glanced at Li Hao.

“If you can complete one circuit in the normal way, you could achieve a thousand circuits in the Taiyin Meridian. That’s ten times the power. You could accumulate and store a hundred circuits’ worth of Qi—amplified.”

“And a thousand circuits isn’t just about quantity. It’s a qualitative leap in explosive force. In battle, the difference would be life or death. Those who can open these two meridians? They’re geniuses among geniuses. The absolute pinnacle. Once in a century.”

Li Hao finally understood.

So besides the Taiyin Meridian, there was also the Tai Yang Meridian. Two special meridians—equal to gaining twenty more meridians.

Think about it: the Imperial Clan’s strongest technique only opened 64 meridians. If he could open both special ones, he’d be 33% stronger than even the royal family’s best.

Even if he trained in the Dragon River Divine Meridian, he could surpass the Emperor’s own power.

“Opening these two is extremely difficult,” Li Moxiu said, looking at Li Hao. “It requires fate, talent, and deep悟性. External help won’t speed it up.”

“In our Second Generation, only three people opened one special meridian. And only your Ninth Uncle—both.”

He sighed again.

Li Hao stared, stunned.

He thought it was incredibly rare. Yet three Second Generation members? And one of them had two?

“Xiao Jiu was born with the Tai Yang Meridian. The Taiyin Meridian he unlocked himself. Even I, back then, only had one. Just like your father.”

Li Moxiu shook his head.

Li Hao fell silent. That Ninth Uncle was truly the ultimate flop.

“Enough of this,” Li Moxiu said, waving a hand. “Stick to your path. You’re gifted, but your Meridians are blocked by birth. That makes cultivation harder than others. If you can’t circulate Qi properly, the Circulation Realm might be your ceiling. So don’t wander. Master the Thousand Dragon Sacred Body. Reach the fourth stage, and you’ll have a chance to break into the Continuation of Soul Realm.”

“Then you’ll be a true martial practitioner—someone who can stand on their own. Not someone who gets killed in an instant.”

Li Hao nodded.

Seeing how obedient Li Hao was, Li Moxiu felt a rare warmth. “When you have time, study the Dragon River Divine Meridian on your own. If you’re stuck, come ask me. Your father and the others learned it that way—some teachers, but not much. Your grandfather had a bad temper, never taught personally. We hired Military Instructors. Often, by the time they’d finished explaining, your father had already mastered it. Xiao Jiu even went further—understood the deeper meaning. Heh…”

A smile tugged at the old man’s lips, recalling those days.

Li Hao sighed inwardly.

The Li family had too many prodigies. Even he, the so-called “flop,” felt almost ordinary.

Of course, he wasn’t using his full potential yet. If he did, he could go further. But life wasn’t just about cultivation.

There was more—living, breathing, experiencing.

After all, what was the point of living twice if you only trained?

…

…

In the days that followed, Li Hao spent mornings fishing with Li Moxiu, then retreated to the library in the afternoon, poring over Circulating Qi Combat Scriptures and Meridian Opening Secret Manuals.

Half a month passed.

He successfully acquired all three top-tier Secret Manuals into his Character Panel.

Li Hao felt he’d done well—Basic Level acquisition required insight, and he’d achieved it in five days per book. Not bad for a Li family member.

He’d heard ordinary Main Line heirs took half a month just to reach Basic Level.

Still, with two lifetimes of experience, he didn’t boast. He just considered it normal.

But these three Combat Scriptures weren’t Body Cultivation Techniques. So his three-stage Body Dao insight remained unchanged.

Instead, a new Great Dao Attribute appeared in his Panel:

[Yi Dao: Not Yet Begun]

Li Hao guessed these manuals were standard martial arts scriptures—suitable for ordinary cultivators. Yi Dao likely represented a conventional cultivation path. The name was odd, but he didn’t dwell on it. More attributes, more power—why not?

Yet another reminder: Art Skill Points were still too scarce.

“Besides fishing and chess… maybe it’s time to try painting. And cooking…”

These were arts listed in the game—sure to grant Art Skill Points.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end