Chapter 3: Waste Divine Blood

When consciousness flickered back, a sudden torrent of information surged into Li Hao’s mind.

Li Hao clutched his head, a wave of overwhelming sensation swelling inside—his skull felt like it might split open. His face twisted in pain.

"Haoyu, what’s wrong?" Liu Yuerong, sensing something amiss, jumped up in alarm, her voice laced with concern.

Li Hao gritted his teeth, jaw clenched tight. As the chaotic storm in his mind slowly settled, he realized something had changed—his mind now brimmed with knowledge about sword techniques. It was as if he’d spent years training in swordsmanship, day after day, relentless and intense.

Damn… this headache… just like when I leveled up Go Art…

He rubbed his temples, breathing heavily. He was still too young—his brain hadn’t fully developed. The sheer volume of information from both Go Art and Sword Dao had been a brutal assault on his fragile mind.

Silently, he focused on calming himself.

"Did he catch a cold from the snow?" Liu Yuerong gently brushed her fingers across Li Hao’s forehead, but found no fever. Her expression flickered with confusion.

By now, Li Hao had fully recovered. He looked up at his second mother’s puzzled gaze, then pointed weakly at his mouth, his voice still soft and childish.

"I… bit my tongue."

Liu Yuerong blinked. Then she exhaled in relief, rolling her eyes with a sigh. The moment passed.

Li Hao let her off the hook, turning his attention inward—secretly checking his Character Panel.

---

[Name: Li Hao]

[Age: 1 year]

[Cultivation Level: Ordinary]

[Sword Dao: 1st Level]

[Skill: Sea Without Shore Tides (Perfect) [Restricted]]

[Mastered Art: Go Art]

[Go Art Level: 1st (82/500)]

[Go Manuscript Collection: 0]

[Art Skill Points: 0]

Li Hao stared, stunned. The Art Skill Points were gone—but Sword Dao had actually progressed from Uninitiated to 1st Level! And the skill below, Sea Without Shore Tides, had leapfrogged from Uninitiated to Perfect!

He remembered the military instructor who taught Li Qianfeng once saying:

All techniques exist in three stages—

Uninitiated, where one can perform the form flawlessly.

Skilled, where one masters flexibility, adapts instinctively, and applies the technique fluidly—no rigid repetition, no mechanical response.

And Perfect, where the technique becomes an extension of the body—so natural that even reversed execution leaves no trace of flaw. Only if the technique itself has a defect would a gap appear.

He’d also heard whispers of a higher realm beyond Perfect—where one could rectify the flaws of a technique, amplifying its power beyond imagination.

Now, after just one level-up in Sword Dao, Li Hao had achieved Perfect in the first level of Sea Without Shore Tides—a feat that would normally take a decade of relentless training.

Li Qianfeng, the so-called Sword Dao prodigy, had only practiced Sea Without Shore for half a year and was still at Uninitiated in the first tide. He was already considered extraordinary.

So… what did that make Li Hao?

A monster?

Still, he kept his expression neutral. He glanced back toward the courtyard.

The children were still practicing sword forms—but to Li Hao’s trained eyes, their movements were clumsy, stiff, amateurish. A single well-placed strike from a real swordsman would send their wooden blades flying.

"Excellent," rumbled the broad-shouldered man, clearly pleased with Li Qianfeng’s performance. "Sturdy constitution, sharp mind. In two more years, he’ll reach the Skilled stage in the first level. Remember, he’s still a child—his brain isn’t fully developed. This progress is already remarkable."

Time passed.

Li Hao watched, quietly munching on the snacks Liu Yuerong kept feeding him. Drowsiness crept in, and boredom followed.

He yawned, then leaned into her arms, letting his eyes drift shut.

A faint flicker of memory flashed before his closed eyelids—but he was already asleep.

Liu Yuerong, feeling the soft rhythm of his breathing, lowered her head. A flicker of something complex passed through her eyes—something unreadable, deep and quiet.

But when she looked back toward the snow-covered training ground, where her son practiced sword forms, that inner shadow vanished. Her expression softened into calm.

She stood, cradling Li Hao in her arms, and left the small pavilion, returning to her private chamber in the back courtyard. With delicate care, she laid him gently onto her bed, tucking the quilt around him.

Her movements were tender—so natural, so maternal, as if she were his true mother.

Li Hao stirred slightly in his sleep, aware of the warmth of being placed down. The soft, comforting heat against his chest was the Dragon Blood Jade Pendant Emperor Yu had bestowed upon him—always worn close to his body. It was why he could stand in the snow without feeling cold.

Just as he was about to turn over and sink back into sleep, a low voice echoed from outside the room.

"Are you sure you gave that child the thing?"

A stranger’s voice.

"By now, I have no choice," came Liu Yuerong’s reply—cold, distant, devoid of affection. Like she was speaking to a servant.

"You saw it yourself. My son is relentless. A true prodigy of the century. Mount Wu Liang has already taken notice. When Qianfeng turns six, they’ll take him up the mountain to begin cultivation. When he awakens his Divine Blood, inheriting his father’s legacy… he’ll become a name known across the world."

"I must secure his future."

Li Hao cracked open one eye, his mind still foggy with sleep.

Who was she talking to?

"Still… we don’t even know what talent he possesses. This move is reckless."

The man sighed.

A silence followed.

Then Liu Yuerong’s voice returned—softer now, colder, laced with bitter amusement.

"Parents love their children—so they plan ahead."

"I didn’t want to do this. But the Li family… fools. Wooden-headed. Utterly blind."

"This child… blame his father. Who else? That Xing Wuhou was a prodigy. I know—because he entered the Three Immortalities Realm by the age of twenty-three."

Li Hao froze.

Three Immortalities? At twenty-three?!

"His ancestors were founding generals of Emperor Yu. A bloodline of power. The father inherits the will of the ancestors—just as Xing Wuhou did."

"Last generation… aside from Qianfeng’s father, Xing Wuhou was a prodigy. And the third, sixth, and ninth sons—especially the ninth. He was terrifying. Fortunately, he died young—no heirs."

"The third’s wife is watching over him, but she’s a woman. She’ll marry eventually—no lasting threat. The sixth also entered the Three Immortalities early… but only after marriage."

Liu Yuerong spoke coldly: "The only one who could rival Qianfeng is this child. That’s why Emperor Yu bestowed his blessing upon him—so even if he turns out to be ordinary in martial talent, if he awakens Divine Blood, he can still stand among the greatest geniuses."

Another pause.

The man exhaled slowly. "Lady, if you’ve made your decision, I won’t interfere."

"Relax," she said. "The potion came from Mount Wu Liang. Once consumed, it vanishes without a trace. No way to trace it back. No pain. I even coated it with sugar—sweet, so it won’t taste strange. He’s too young to remember it. No lasting impression. After all, children eat too many sweets anyway."

"Even if, in the future, he fails to awaken Divine Blood—no one can prove it was us. Everyone here has the possibility. And besides… not all bloodlines awaken at 100%. Maybe he simply isn’t meant to."

She let out a dry laugh. "Thanks to the Yanbei War chaos, Ji Qingqing and Xing Wuhou were deeply in love. They charged into battle together—giving us this chance. Otherwise, once he grows a few more years, they’ll return. The residence would be guarded by secret martial generals. Then it’d be impossible to act."

No reply came from outside.

Only a soft sigh.

Moments later, their footsteps faded into the distance.

Inside the room, Li Hao was wide awake—mind reeling, heart pounding.

She… was going to harm me?

All those tender moments, the constant care, the gentle touches—were they all a lie?

He refused to believe it. But the evidence was undeniable.

He didn’t understand what Divine Blood was—but he understood this: his second mother, wanting to secure his future, had decided he was a threat. So she chose to destroy him.

Li Hao’s face darkened. His small fists clenched.

The kindness he’d once trusted—those warm smiles, the soft voices—had all been illusions.

Who else is real?

He’d only been here a year and a half. Yet every day, the ladies of the household had taken turns caring for him. He’d grown attached—had begun to feel warmth in his heart.

And now… it all shattered like glass.

So this was the inner struggle of an ancient noble family?

He gently touched his chest. Aside from the faint warmth from the Jade Pendant, there was nothing else.

The warmth… came from the pendant. Not from within.

His mother had once said he carried his father’s power.

But now… it was gone.

Li Hao clenched his small fist in silence.

This debt… I’ll repay it one day. With blood.

---

---

Spring passes, autumn returns.

In the blink of an eye, Li Hao turned three.

Now, most of his days were spent in the Mountain and River Courtyard. He carefully scrutinized the food sent by the ladies of the household—sometimes refusing outright, pretending to dislike it, acting like a spoiled child.

Slowly, the servants realized: the young master was extremely picky about food and drink.

At three years old, in the Divine General’s Residence, this was a critical age.

In ordinary families, children began cultivation at seven or eight, sometimes even in their teens. By then, their constitution was often already set—no matter how talented, they might never reach greatness, delayed by family circumstances.

But the Divine General’s Residence was a martial lineage—its cultivation methods strict, its standards unyielding. All children began laying their foundation from infancy.

Foundation established at three.

Blood melting at four.

Bone quantification at five.

By six, formal cultivation began—no time wasted.

On the path of cultivation, ten thousand strive to cross the river. One step ahead, step by step—each advance vital.

Whether a child had cultivation potential could already be tested at Bone Quantification—five years old. If bone development was complete, marrow abundant and solid, cultivation could begin.

But the Residence followed the principle: Haste makes waste. To ensure a smoother future, the rule was: formal cultivation begins at six. One more year of growth, one more year of consolidation.

Even Li Qianfeng, the exceptional prodigy, only began formal training after bone quantification—yet still joined Mount Wu Liang at six.

For now, Li Hao’s daily sword practice was only basic techniques—developing martial sense, not yet truly on the cultivation path.

For those with average potential, or delayed development, even if they couldn’t cultivate at six, they might need several more years—possibly seven, eight, or nine.

But in the Divine General’s Residence, countless famous medicines and rare treasures nourished and enhanced martial talent.

Over the years, the worst case had only been starting cultivation at eight.

It was said he was a premature child—damaged in the womb—hence this.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end