Chapter 36: The Rules of the Ancestral Spirits

“Joking around with you is fine, but I wouldn’t dare joke with the Ancestors,” Li Moxiu said coolly.

The elder with long eyebrows frowned slightly. Indeed, he thought, his second brother might seem careless in daily life, but within the Ancestral Hall, he had always been the model of propriety.

“Is the child really so young? Is he already nine?” the elder asked.

“Eight,” Li Moxiu replied.

“Eight?!” The elder blinked, his eyes flickering with surprise. “You’re saying he’s already perfected the Heavenly Circuit at eight?”

“Yes,” Li Moxiu said flatly, then walked to the floor cushion before the golden statue and knelt.

“Hao’er, come here.”

After three respectful bows, he remained kneeling and spoke softly.

Li Hao immediately stepped forward and stood beside him.

“Kneel down and pay your respects to the ancestors.”

Li Hao did as instructed, kneeling on the floor cushion and bowing three times before each Ancestral Tablet.

Li Moxiu raised his head and spoke gently: “Descendant Li Moxiu, on this day, brings a younger generation to listen to the teachings of our forebears. May the Ancestral Spirits bestow their inheritance!”

As he spoke, the many Ancestral Tablets above seemed to tremble faintly.

Li Hao, having finished his bows, looked up—and saw shimmering Phantom Images rising before each tablet, seated in midair. Some wore scholarly white robes, others were clad in heavy armor, and some had only half their bodies intact, wrapped in a single war banner.

Clearly, these were the ancestors of the Li family.

“Hmm, another promising talent,” one voice murmured.

“Perfect Circulation at such a young age—only eight, barely past childhood. Compared to that boy from twenty years ago, this one’s even sharper.”

“Who would’ve thought the Qi fortune of our family, which has been dormant for nearly a century, would surge so suddenly. We must warn the young ones not to grow arrogant—this child will serve as a lesson.”

The Phantom Images—spirits of the ancestors—whispered among themselves, each offering their thoughts.

When Li Hao entered the Ancestral Hall, he had concealed his Ten Thousand Aspects Attribute. Though he didn’t know whether these Ancestral Spirits’ Heroic Souls could pierce the concealment of the Ten Thousand Phenomena, it was best not to risk drawing unnecessary attention.

“This potential is strong. I’ll stay out of it. You all decide.”

“This kind of potential—only the Ancestral Spirits and you elders can bestow it.”

After a while, most of the Phantom Images gradually faded, returning to their respective tablets. Only four remained, floating before the tablets, silently observing Li Hao without a word.

“I—” One of them, a phantom wielding a spear, began to speak—

Suddenly, the Golden Body Deity Statue at the center of the hall flared with light, as if resurrected.

The other Phantom Images turned their gazes toward it, then bowed their heads slightly.

And from all the surrounding tablets, a unified, soft voice echoed: “Honor to the Ancestral Spirits.”

Before the statue stood a tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man, his Phantom Image unusually solid—more real than the others. His face was identical to that of the golden statue.

“If you can uphold my Heart Oath, you shall inherit my legacy,” the man said, his voice calm and steady, devoid of emotion.

Li Hao could feel the slight tremble in the elder beside him—clearly moved. He also recognized this spirit. This was Li Tianyuan, the First Ancestral Spirit of the Li family.

“Honor to the Ancestral Spirits!” Li Moxiu bowed deeply.

Li Hao followed instantly, mimicking the gesture.

“I once marched with Emperor Da Yu across the eight borders of Eastern Hua, subduing countless Spirit Beasts and tribes. Before the Emperor, I swore two sacred Heart Oaths—one that secured the glory of the Li family for a thousand years.”

The Heroic Soul of Li Tianyuan spoke slowly: “The first oath: All members of the Li family shall vow to protect one another, to live and die as one.”

“The second oath: To stand steadfast in defense of the Great Yu Dynasty, bound to Emperor Yu in life and death.”

“Can you do this?”

He fixed his gaze upon Li Hao below.

Li Hao paused, stunned. Protect the Li family? Did that mean everyone—even distant branches of the clan? And what exactly did “protect” mean? Was he forbidden from harming them?

The hall fell silent. Every eye, every spirit, seemed to focus on the child, awaiting his reply.

After a long silence, Li Hao finally spoke, “Ancestral Spirits… forgive me, but I do not fully understand.”

“Speak,” said the Heroic Soul of Li Tianyuan, calm.

“Does ‘protect the Li family’ mean all members—especially the branches of the main bloodline?”

“Only the Main Line Family Bloodline,” Li Tianyuan answered. “Since it is protection, you must not harm them. Even if you cut off their limbs but leave them with a thread of Qi, it still counts as protection.”

The oath was strict.

Li Hao hesitated. “Then… if there is a traitor within the Main Line, or someone plots against me?”

“Such a disgrace may be handed over to those who have not entered the Ancestral Hall and received Soul Inheritance.”

“But if such a person attacks me—surprises me—what then? Am I to simply run?” Li Hao asked.

“The one who inherits my soul, within the same realm and excluding the Emperor, shall be unmatched,” Li Tianyuan said coldly. “To flee is easy. If you face someone above your realm, you need only escape—there is no need to risk retaliation.”

“What if I see them die before me, and I do nothing?” Li Hao pressed.

“You must intervene. Even a traitor must be saved,” Li Tianyuan replied. “But when justice is carried out upon the traitor, you may choose not to be present—then the oath will not be broken, and you will not suffer.”

Li Hao considered this. It was a way, but… still unfair.

A prodigy, yet forced to flee when facing a peer from his own family. And if a fellow clan member is in peril, he must step in—even if they’re a villain?

That seemed unreasonable.

“Don’t say such things,” Li Moxiu muttered, his expression tightening. He leaned close, whispering to Li Hao.

But the Heroic Soul of Li Tianyuan showed no anger. He simply looked at Li Hao, then spoke slowly: “It may not seem fair. But do you know why I impose such burdens on those rare geniuses who qualify for Soul Inheritance in the Ancestral Hall?”

Though the Li family had an Ancestral Hall and countless Ancestral Spirits, not every member was allowed to receive inheritance. The spirits were selective—exacting.

Li Hao shook his head. “I do not know.”

“Because of continuity,” Li Tianyuan said, his voice deep and measured.

“The first oath prevents geniuses from growing arrogant, from disregarding the lives of ordinary clan members—or worse, abandoning the family entirely after gaining power and resources.”

“Such restrictions may seem unjust to a prodigy, but they are merely a small sacrifice. The reward? The eternal continuation of the bloodline.”

Li Hao paused. From the ancestors’ perspective, it made sense.

“And the reason our family has endured for a thousand years, without provoking the Emperor’s suspicion?” Li Tianyuan continued calmly. “It’s because of the second oath.”

“Once, twelve Divine Generals served the Emperor. Today, only five Great Yu Divine General Residences remain. Two of them were founded by descendants of those old comrades—now long extinct. The others have vanished, their names lost to time.”

“These two Heart Oaths—seemingly chains, restrictions—were actually designed to preserve the bloodline.”

“Otherwise, after centuries of glorious war records, endless military prestige, and vast networks of generals and warriors… how could the imperial court ever allow us such power? How could they refrain from using imperial arts to weaken and dismantle us?”

Li Hao was stunned.

From the elder ancestor’s point of view—yes, it was a masterstroke. The benefits far outweighed the cost.

A thousand years of Divine Generals, surviving the test of time—it was not something achieved lightly. The ease of the first-level explanation belied the immense difficulty behind it.

Perhaps the imperial court had known that the Li family’s greatest geniuses would be bound by these two oaths within the Ancestral Hall—thus allowing the Li family to flourish as it did.

“Now that you understand,” Li Tianyuan said, his tone still calm, “do you wish to take the Heart Oath?”

Li Hao hesitated. He couldn’t decide.

The two oaths felt like curses.

Yes, they preserved the family’s glory for a thousand years—but were they not also a tight, unyielding chain?

A lifetime of sacrifice. The six of the nine sons perished in battle. How many others died before their time? And yet, the ordinary clan members—those without genius—lived long, peaceful lives.

In the Li family, the true prodigy… was not blessed. He was burdened.

He had to carry the entire family’s fate.

In that light, perhaps the Martial Temple’s Soul Inheritance would have been better—lighter, easier.

Li Tianyuan seemed to sense Li Hao’s hesitation. A flicker of coldness passed through his eyes, then his form began to fade.

“Such a rare talent, yet his heart is not yet firm. Let him ponder further.”

The other tablets trembled slightly—acknowledging the departure of the Ancestral Spirit—then fell silent.

Li Moxiu stared, stunned. He glanced at Li Hao, then said nothing more before rising and bowing deeply to the Ancestral Tablets. He turned and led Li Hao out of the hall.

Li Hao exhaled, a quiet relief washing over him as he followed.

As they stepped outside, he couldn’t help but glance back—toward the Go board.

He couldn’t help it. With his Chess Heart, just as Jian Wudao had once said, the sword lover sees the sword first among a thousand weapons. That’s the stage of affection. But to truly feel—to be truly drawn in—that’s another matter.

Among ten thousand things, Li Hao could spot the Go board instantly.

“Grandfather,” he said softly, “Black Stone at Row 7, Column 13—it wins.”

With that, he followed the second elder out of the Ancestral Hall.

Outside, a light rain had begun—gentle, endless.

Li Moxiu sighed. Perfect fishing weather—calm water, fish spirits rising to breathe the fresh air. But today, he had no heart for it.

“You’re young. Don’t overthink it. Think on it yourself,” he said, knowing full well Li Hao’s playful nature, his reluctance to be bound.

Children were children. Even if they were prodigies.

Li Hao nodded.

Yet, Li Moxiu had also undergone Soul Inheritance in this very hall. Though he seemed carefree, even reckless, his heart was still tied to the family.

Inside the hall, the long-browed elder withdrew his gaze. He didn’t know Li Hao well, so he didn’t care what the boy thought—after all, he’d return soon enough.

His eyes returned to the Go board. He reached out, fingers brushing the stone—then paused, a soft “Huh?” escaping his lips.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end