Chapter 4: The Three Six Nine Ranks

On a bright, sunlit day, the Military Strongman dispatched by the Divine General’s Residence arrived at the Mountain and River Courtyard to oversee Li Hao’s Foundation Establishment.

He was a short, wiry middle-aged man with dark skin, yet dressed in a flowing blue robe—so delicate it almost looked feminine. His name was Lin Haixia. Li Hao later came to call him Uncle Lin.

Accompanying him was a little girl, roughly the same age as Li Hao—only two months younger.

She was the orphaned daughter of a fallen comrade from the Yanbei Battlefield, a man who had once served alongside Xing Wuhou. Before his death, he entrusted his young daughter to Xing Wuhou’s care, and the two men sealed a Childhood Engagement—a fated marriage from heaven.

Li Hao was utterly speechless.

Seriously? You go off to war and die, fine. But you don’t even ask me if I’m okay with this?

Angry as he was, he didn’t take his frustration out on the little girl.

And so, from that day on, the vast Mountain and River Courtyard—once silent and empty—now held one more small figure.

Her name was Bian Ruxue.

She was a porcelain doll come to life—dainty and soft, her skin like fresh pink lotus petals.

In her new home, she was timid and withdrawn, asking the same question every day:

“Where is my father? Where has he gone?”

No one dared answer.

Some kind-hearted maids would quietly weep in the corners whenever they heard her voice.

The little girl stopped eating. Her cheeks hollowed. Her body grew thin.

Seeing the household servants, all of them utterly incapable of comforting a child, Li Hao felt a surge of anger.

Damn it… I must’ve been too good at cultivating the right image. These people never learned a thing.

So he stepped in himself.

Half-threatening, half-coaxing, he told her:

“Your father is hiding somewhere. If you’re good, if you eat well, he’ll come out.”

Tears welled in her wide, innocent eyes.

“Am I not good, Snow? Why does Father hide from me? Where is he?”

Where?

Li Hao looked at her—so small, so heartbreakingly fragile—and his resolve cracked.

He sighed, then said the most cliché thing he could think of, pointing to the sky:

“He’s up there. On one of those stars.”

From that night on, every evening, a small figure stood beneath the stars, gazing upward.

The Milky Way shimmered like silver dust, casting a soft glow over her lonely silhouette.

Meanwhile, inside the house, another small boy lay sprawled over a go board, quietly commanding the servants:

“Fan her. Keep the mosquitoes away. Don’t let her get bitten.”

Two weeks passed.

Lin Haixia had prepared the Foundation Establishment Elixir for both Li Hao and Bian Ruxue.

They were to undergo Foundation Establishment on the same day.

Foundation Establishment—the very foundation of the Martial Path.

It was a process that forged the body for cultivation.

Through daily immersion in a bath of precious elixir—crafted from countless rare herbs and rare materials—it reshaped the child’s flesh and bone into a martial vessel fit for the path.

The Divine General’s Residence was one of Emperor Yu’s top-tier families, blessed with endless wealth and resources. Since Li Hao’s Foundation Establishment began, priceless Potion Materials, Rare Treasures, and Exquisite Artifacts had poured into the Mountain and River Courtyard like snowfall—never-ending.

The Foundation Establishment Elixir came in three tiers:

Ordinary, Rare, and Supreme.

Li Hao’s was the Supreme Elixir—crafted with a Thousand-Year Treasure Herb as the core, blended with countless other rare ingredients. It could nurture a Seventh-Rank Combat Body.

Once on the cultivation path, such a body could break through the first realm in just two to three years.

But the Martial Path was a furnace of gold—this top-tier Elixir consumed one portion daily for half a year to a year. Only a family like the Divine General’s Residence could afford it without hesitation.

In the courtyard, two massive Elixir Tubs stood side by side.

Li Hao and Bian Ruxue each soaked within them.

But on Bian Ruxue’s side, a curtain shielded the tub, and a Female Attendant—someone with cultivation, a personal guard of the mansion—watched over her.

On Li Hao’s side, Lin Haixia himself stood vigil.

Now, the Dark Purple Elixir—symbol of prestige—surged through Li Hao’s body. The liquid reached up to his chin, burying him beneath its depths, leaving only his nose exposed for breath.

The smell was unbearable—like swallowing a bitter lotus. It burned through his nose, keeping his spirit sharp and alert.

Li Hao turned to Lin Haixia.

“Can I drink it?”

Lin Haixia shook his head.

“Better not.”

The elixir was too potent for a child’s stomach. Drinking it would destroy their organs.

Besides—this was for external use only.

Just as Li Hao focused, breath held, a sudden message flashed before his eyes:

> [Detection of unknown substance… analyzing… ]

> [Analysis failed. Automatic isolation initiated.]

Li Hao: ???

What the hell was that?!

No way… could it really be what I think?

His mind reeled.

At the tub’s side, Lin Haixia’s calm expression had grown tense. His brow furrowed deeper, forming a deep W as time passed.

Li Hao noticed the shift. His heart dropped.

“Uncle Lin… is something wrong?”

Lin Haixia wasn’t surprised by the boy’s perceptiveness. He’d noticed from the start that this Young Master was unusually sharp—like a child of five, but with the mind of a grown man.

But now wasn’t the time.

Without a word, he swiftly lifted the curtain to check on Bian Ruxue.

He returned moments later, his face grim.

“Uncle Lin?”

Lin Haixia reached into the edge of the tub, testing the liquid’s temperature, his eyes flickering with confusion, then something darker—pity.

He stared at the child beneath the purple glow, opened his mouth… then closed it again.

“Uncle Lin… what is it?” Li Hao pressed.

Lin Haixia gave him a glance—surprised, but not unkind.

“Even if you’re young, you’re sharper than most. But you still don’t understand what’s happening.”

He exhaled.

“Martial Dao talent… can only be clearly seen at age five, during Bone Quantification. But it begins to show during Foundation Establishment.”

“The faster the elixir is absorbed, the higher the cultivation potential. And Young Master… your absorption rate is far too slow.”

He looked at Li Hao in the tub—his eyes filled with disbelief, then sorrow.

After a pause, he muttered:

“Maybe it’s just an anomaly. Perhaps I made a mistake in brewing. I’ll check again tomorrow.”

Li Hao’s blood ran cold.

So it was real. The message wasn’t a glitch.

It wasn’t that the elixir was absorbed slowly—it was being blocked. Completely.

No way it’s absorbing anything. And yet… it still shows up as “absorbed” in the system?

Li Hao’s inner monologue was silent, but furious.

Is this Character Panel really sticking to game logic?

For months, he’d been experimenting with the system.

There was no combat system in the game.

Which meant… he was effectively barred from the Martial Path.

No experience gain from training. No progression through martial arts.

Only art—painting, music, poetry—gave experience.

He could train hard, sure. But it was like running in place.

Whereas art? One moment of inspiration, and the EXP bar shot up. Skill points unlocked. Techniques formed naturally.

A single day of artistic creation could surpass decades of brute effort.

And now… all this wealth—this priceless elixir, these rare treasures—was being wasted.

Even a mediocre cultivator could be forged from this.

But why did the poison work before?

Or… did it?

Maybe it did work—but he’d just passed out, and missed the prompt.

Perhaps… only when his Divine Blood awakens will he know.

But the woman had said: awakening Divine Blood was possible, but not guaranteed.

Fine.

If I’m not hurt, then it’s your fault. And this debt? It’s not going to be forgotten.

“Don’t lose hope,” Lin Haixia said, trying to comfort him. “Tomorrow, I’ll try again. If it still fails, I’ll inform the Marquis—he’ll find a way.”

Li Hao waved a hand.

“No need.”

He began to climb out of the tub.

If the system wouldn’t accept the elixir, soaking longer was pointless.

“Stay in,” Lin Haixia snapped. “Try again. One more hour.”

Li Hao shook his head.

“It won’t work.”

“Be obedient!” Lin Haixia’s voice hardened.

Li Hao stared at him, then sighed.

“I’ll check on the little girl first.”

He pulled back the curtain.

And there it was—Bian Ruxue’s tub.

The same Foundation Elixir, poured at the same time.

But now, the purple liquid had turned nearly transparent. Only faint wisps of pale violet smoke drifted through the water.

“Haoge?” Bian Ruxue blinked up at him, her face blank with confusion.

She was too young to hide her feelings.

Li Hao turned to Lin Haixia.

“Uncle Lin… how would you rate her talent?”

Lin Haixia, still lost in his own gloom, let out a dry chuckle.

“She’s absorbing it incredibly fast—far better than average.”

He looked at the tub, his voice tinged with awe.

“If her Blood Melting at age four goes smoothly, and with the Divine General’s Residence’s resources, her Combat Body could leap to Eighth-Rank… maybe even Ninth-Rank by the time she reaches Bone Quantification at five. She’d be among the true prodigies.”

“Ninth-Rank?” Li Hao frowned.

Lin Haixia, despite the boy’s age, patiently explained.

“Foundation Establishment, Blood Melting, and Bone Quantification—these three stages are collectively known as the Three Six Nine Ranks.”

“Foundation Elixir comes in three tiers. Blood Melting has six levels. And Bone Quantification Potential is divided into nine ranks.”

“Ranks One to Three: common potential. Below average.

Four to Six: elite, top-tier. Middle rank.

Seven: genius.

Eight: famed across a province.

Ninth: the pinnacle. A true miracle of cultivation. Such bodies break through realms like drinking water. Most can reach the Fourth or Fifth Realm with ease.”

“Higher realms? Beyond talent, you need insight, perseverance, fortune… and a little bit of luck.”

Li Hao turned back to the tub.

Bian Ruxue, small and pale, floated in the fading purple light.

So this little girl… is going to become a world-famous genius?

A mental image flashed—Bian Ruxue, nose running, standing tall among the greats, radiating power.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

Lin Haixia watched him, his expression heavy with sorrow.

Child… so clever, so sharp. But still only three years old.

He didn’t understand.

The chance of a Foundation Elixir failing was nearly zero.

Which meant…

This boy… may be a Martial Path waste. A body incapable of cultivation.

In a family like the Li’s—especially as the heir—this was unthinkable.

To be unable to cultivate…

It was worse than death.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end