Chapter 30: The Two Sages and Little Squirrel

Action speaks louder than words.

Li Hao asked Zhao Bo to prepare color pigments, brushes, ink, and paper—everything needed for painting. Once the daily fishing session with the old master ended, he formally requested permission to return to his Mountain and River Courtyard to rest.

Li Moxiu didn’t object. His philosophy toward Li Hao’s cultivation was simple: hands-off.

Though Li Hao displayed astonishing talent in Body Cultivation, Li Moxiu never forced him to train relentlessly. If Li Hao came seeking guidance, he’d teach with full attention. If not, he’d simply take the boy on leisurely hikes and wild fishing trips—no pressure, no discipline.

……

In the Mountain and River Courtyard, the vast courtyard lay quiet under the afternoon sun.

Li Hao had two small stools brought in—one tall, one short—and positioned himself like a student of fine arts, setting up a wooden board and beginning to paint.

Zhao Bo tried to reason with him, pleading, warning, but Li Hao paid no heed. To him, this young master was clearly wasting time on frivolous pursuits. Helpless, Zhao Bo could only hand the matter over to Li Fu.

Li Hao, however, had already prepared his countermeasure. In front of Li Fu, he revealed the second layer of his Dragon Body.

Li Fu froze. His eyes widened in disbelief. He rubbed them, convinced he’d seen a trick of light. He demanded Li Hao repeat the display. Only after seeing it twice did he finally believe it.

The burly man’s eyes welled up with tears.

He assumed it was due to the second uncle’s careful guidance and training—only a month had passed, and Li Hao had already mastered the second level of the Body Cultivation Secret. Grateful to the second uncle, he was also overwhelmed by astonishment at Li Hao’s innate talent.

Such talent? Even surpassing someone who’d spent three months mastering Wild Ox Strength. This was truly top-tier, first-class potential in Body Cultivation.

Seeing Li Fu’s ecstatic reaction, Li Hao quietly breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad he hadn’t shown off the third layer—Hundred-Drake Body—right in front of him. Not everyone had the old master’s depth of vision or mental fortitude.

As a compromise, Li Hao promised to diligently train under the second uncle—but on one condition: Li Fu couldn’t interfere with anything else he did.

Li Fu was both thrilled and troubled. With such a rare talent, he wanted Li Hao to spend every waking moment training, to catch up with the geniuses of Ninth-Rank Combat Body. But Li Hao’s nature was too carefree, too indifferent to routine. The man was utterly at a loss.

After endless back-and-forth, Li Fu finally gave in.

And so, Li Hao painted freely in the courtyard.

As brush met paper, a glowing text appeared before him:

【Painting Dao: 0th Level (1/100)】

Success.

Li Hao smiled knowingly and began to paint with abandon.

Thanks to his Go Art and Fishing Dao experience, he guessed that the better his painting, the more experience he’d gain. So he didn’t paint casually. He painted carefully, deliberately.

But then—his past came back to haunt him.

He’d spent decades in the world of business, immersed in commerce. He didn’t know the first thing about painting.

Well… he did know a little about women who painted.

For his first attempt, he chose a life drawing. He picked the most beautiful maid in the courtyard, had her stand before the board, and confidently began.

First, a circle. Then a vertical line. A slash, a stroke—then another slash, another stroke.

Hmm. Missing the hair.

Finished!

【Painting Dao Experience +1】

Damn. Painting is harder than I thought.

Li Hao chuckled bitterly to himself.

Zhao Bo, sneaking a glance at the canvas, frowned. “Young Master… what exactly is this supposed to be?”

“You don’t recognize it? It’s a person!” Li Hao snapped, flustered.

“This… doesn’t look like a person at all,” Zhao Bo stammered.

Li Hao huffed. “You’re missing the deeper meaning. That circle? It’s not a head—it represents smoothness. That vertical line? Not the body—it symbolizes how one must be flexible to stand tall. Zhao Bo, you really need to learn to think less literally and more deeply. Don’t be so blunt!”

“…So that messy swirl on top isn’t hair?”

“Not just hair. It is hair. And it isn’t. It’s both. It’s idealism.”

“Idealism?”

Li Hao shrugged. “Ideals grow on the head. Makes perfect sense. And this thick, wild hair? That’s what most people dream of. Also perfectly reasonable.”

Zhao Bo stared blankly.

Li Hao, having invented the entire philosophy on the spot, resumed painting.

To Zhao Bo and Li Fu’s growing disbelief, he painted dozens of portraits—each nearly identical. The beautiful maid stood motionless in the background, her presence utterly pointless.

Clearly, this young master had no real talent for painting. Worse than his Chess Skill, which at least had some logic.

But then again—what did they expect? This was just another wasted martial path diversion. They weren’t going to dig too deep.

Li Hao painted fast. Paper scraps piled up on the ground. Soon, his experience points reached 100—gained one by one.

Li Hao groaned inwardly.

【Painting Dao Level Up to First Level】

【Art Skill Points +1】

A surge of insight flooded his mind. He closed his eyes, absorbed the new understanding, and instantly realized how crude and amateurish his earlier work had been.

He picked up the brush again. This time, the strokes flowed like water—natural, fluid, charged with spirit.

Before long, a graceful, elegant figure emerged on paper—poised, lifelike, breathtaking.

Li Fu and Zhao Bo, idly scanning the courtyard, caught a glimpse.

Their eyes widened. They froze.

Moments later, Li Hao dipped his brush into red pigment and gently outlined the lips. Then, with vibrant color pigments, he added subtle shades.

Suddenly, a lifelike, radiant figure stood proudly on the canvas.

【Painting Dao Experience +13】

Li Hao’s eyes lit up. It works! The more precise and detailed the painting, the more experience I gain.

At last—he could actually paint.

“Young Master… this…?” Zhao Bo stammered, staring at the painting. Just moments ago, the boy had drawn crude stick figures. Now—this?

Could it be he was a prodigy, mastering art in seconds?

Or was the earlier work a deliberate act of deception?

Or… could those stick figures have actually been symbolic, as he claimed?

Zhao Bo felt his worldview shatter.

“Basic skills. No big deal,” Li Hao said casually.

Zhao Bo didn’t understand the phrase—but he was utterly stunned.

Li Hao painted a few more pieces. As his skill grew, he had Li Fu and Zhao Bo stand before the canvas and painted portraits of both.

One captured the gentle wisdom of age—eyes warm, face lined with quiet strength. The other portrayed a man of stern demeanor, eyes slightly averted, a hint of tension in his expression. Both were astonishingly lifelike.

Holding their finished portraits, the two men exchanged glances. Their emotions were complex.

This young master’s talent was unparalleled. Had he been born into a scholarly family, he’d have been cherished like a treasure.

But here—this was the Divine General’s Residence. A warrior’s home. A place where one’s birthright was to defend Emperor Yu.

When the ink dried, both men carefully rolled up their portraits, handling them with reverence.

They would never forget the day—when Li Hao was seven—when he’d painted their portraits.

It was the first time in their lives they’d ever held a portrait of themselves.

……

……

Time passed swiftly. Six months later.

On a quiet shore of the tranquil Blackwater Demon Lake, three figures sat fishing—two elders, one young.

The youngest was Li Hao. The elders were Li Moxiu and his fishing companion—Li Hao’s new acquaintance, the Thief Sage, Feng Bo Ping.

Li Hao had been told the man had chosen the name himself. “Feng Bo Ping” didn’t mean “calm when the wind is still.” It meant after the theft, he remains calm.

Indeed, stories of Feng Bo Ping were legendary.

Countless powerful factions discovered their treasures missing months—or even years—later.

At first, they didn’t even realize anything was gone.

No clues. No suspects. No idea who’d taken it—or when.

He vanished like mist.

He left no trace.

He was famous for being unknown.

The thief who stole in silence, and never returned.

Feng Bo Ping.

On the shore, Li Hao efficiently set up a large pot. He cleaned the freshly caught Fish Spirit, gutted it, and began slicing with swift precision. Meanwhile, he kept glancing at his fishing float.

The rod was anchored to the shore with a rope threaded through a stone. If anything happened, he’d react instantly.

His knife work was flawless—so precise, so natural, it didn’t look like a mere fish prep.

Li Moxiu and Feng Bo Ping watched in silence. They’d long since realized Li Hao possessed extraordinary Sword Dao talent.

When Li Hao first drew his sword, Li Moxiu had mocked Jian Wudao: “You blind fool. You lost the true treasure.”

Feng Bo Ping, meanwhile, had grown fond of the clever, fearless boy who showed no fear of his own mysterious reputation.

He’d once said seriously: “I’ll look far and wide. I’ll find something to open your meridians.”

Soon, snow-white fish flesh hit the pot.

Li Hao tossed in chopped coriander and spicy peppers.

The aroma—spicy, fragrant, hot—filled the air.

The two elders, fishing with invisible lines stretched deep into the lake, didn’t even need floats. Their senses were attuned to the slightest ripple.

“Two minutes,” Li Hao said with a smile. “Three, max.”

Over time, Li Hao had grown comfortable with the old master’s title. He now called him “Second Uncle.” Feng Bo Ping was “Old Feng.”

And in return, the two elders had given Li Hao a nickname they found fitting, vivid, and utterly charming:

Little Squirrel.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end