Chapter 43: Jia Yi Bing Ding

Was it snowing?

No.

Yet, before everyone’s eyes, it seemed as though snow had suddenly begun to fall.

That snow appeared only within the space surrounding Li Hao — precisely three feet in front of his sword. Each flake carried an icy chill, born not from the sky, but from the shimmering reflection of his blade, as if the very air had crystallized into a storm of frost. The technique was known as Snowfall — and its current manifestation was at the True State level.

Before Li Hao stood a towering youth, his pupils contracting sharply, frozen in place. In his vision, an endless blizzard raged — wild, furious, overwhelming — yet it was held in the grip of that young man’s hand, as though he wielded the power of the heavens themselves.

The biting cold did not reach him. Only one lone snowflake, delicate and light, drifted out from the heart of the storm, brushing past his cheek with a whisper-soft touch.

Cool.

The youth instinctively reached up to touch his face. A sharp sting flared — but no blood. His expression locked in disbelief. His body remained rigid, sword still clutched in his hand, a warrior forged in steel and courage… yet his arm trembled uncontrollably, utterly paralyzed, unable to act.

Then, in the blink of an eye — the illusion shattered.

The phantom snow vanished as if it had never been.

Li Hao casually tossed his sword back onto the weapon stand. It slid smoothly into its sheath with a sharp, resonant clink, like ice cracking beneath a winter’s wind. The sound snapped the youth back to reality. His body jolted. The crowd around them stirred, as though waking from a shared dream.

Had it been real?

The silence that followed was eerie.

Then Li Hao’s voice cut through the stillness, light and playful:

“So… can I consider this pass?”

The towering youth blinked, stunned. His tongue tangled in his mouth. “Y-you… win.”

No clash. No exchange. He hadn’t even drawn his sword. Not even a spark of courage remained. He had lost utterly — not in battle, but in spirit.

The other Tan Palace Academy trainees stared at Li Hao in sheer awe. They had thought Li Yuanzhao’s performance earlier was unmatched. But this… this was something else entirely.

What kind of sword art was this?

It had to be Supreme Grade — perhaps even at the Perfect Realm level!

No wonder they were stunned. Though Snowfall Sword Art was only classified as Upper-Grade, its power at the True State level surpassed even the most refined Perfect-Realm techniques of the Supreme Grade.

“Amazing precision!”

“Good heavens — I saw snow fall!”

“I saw it too! It was unreal!”

“Only the Divine General’s Residence could master such a technique… Did he really reach the Perfect Realm? How long must one train to achieve that?!”

They were all shaken. The legends of the Divine General’s Residence were now no longer just stories — they had lived before their eyes.

Si Xiaolan stood motionless, eyes fixed on Li Hao. With a skill like that, there was no doubt he had earned his place through sheer ability — no need for favors. He could have passed the first two trials on his own merit.

This was the peer generation of the Divine General family? Was it truly possible… that every single one was a prodigy?

“Hao Ge!”

Beside him, Li Yuanzhao burst into excitement. He had seen Li Hao’s swordplay before, but this was beyond anything he’d imagined. His own understanding of martial arts far surpassed that of the average noble-born youth. He recognized the technique — it was the very same Snowfall Sword Art once wielded by Sister Xue’er.

But Li Hao’s mastery… it was clearly beyond even Sister Xue’er’s peak. If anything, it surpassed the Perfect Realm.

Li Hao smiled at Yuanzhao, silent. A faint warmth stirred in his chest — a fleeting memory of the little girl in the courtyard, the one he had once guided through the motions of the sword. The image brought a soft smile to his lips, but he quickly stilled his thoughts.

He turned to the broad-shouldered youth before him.

“So… what’s next?”

“Ah? Oh! Right — go straight ahead. The Master is waiting there.”

The youth stammered, his eyes betraying a deep, unspoken reverence.

The starting point of noble houses — truly beyond the reach of common men.

Li Hao nodded, then led Li Yuanzhao past the youth, walking slowly along the winding stone path, their steps unhurried.

Behind them, the crowd watched the two figures fade into the distance — only then did they fully return to themselves.

Then one voice broke the silence:

“Why did they receive invitations? Could it be… their strength was so great they didn’t even need to be tested?”

The words hung in the air.

Others snapped into realization. The initial resentment — born from envy of the Divine General’s Residence’s prestige — melted away.

Si Xiaolan’s expression flickered. She bit her lip. She had misjudged them.

The Tan Palace Academy, standing for centuries, was no place for pretense or base ambition. It would never stoop to curry favor with powerful aristocrats through deceit.

…

…

Deep within the academy’s mountain grounds, a vast Stone Stele Plaza stretched wide. Dozens of young cultivators gathered, eyes fixed on the inscriptions carved into the stone monuments — ancient combat scriptures etched in time.

At the edge of the plaza, two old men sat beneath a willow tree, engaged in a solemn game of Go.

“Ah!”

Suddenly, the plump, contemplative elder snapped upright, slapping his thigh. “I nearly forgot! There are still two invitations unclaimed!”

“Meaning the Divine General’s Residence?” The gray-robed elder looked up, puzzled. “It shouldn’t matter. The children from that family usually breeze through the trials. Even without escort, they’d find their way.”

“But not this time,” the plump elder insisted, rising sharply. “Don’t you remember? That Xing Wuhou’s child — he’s cultivating the Worthless One Path, restricted to body refinement only. Ten years ago, it was all over the news. Now it’s quiet… but that doesn’t mean the danger has passed.”

The gray-robed elder paled. “If he were to fall during the Second Trial… we’d be in deep trouble.”

“Exactly!” the plump elder snapped. “Go — now!”

Without hesitation, the plump elder raised his hand and blew a sharp whistle.

A cascade of wind chimes rang through the air.

From the distant peaks, a massive spirit bird — wingspan seven or eight zhang — darted toward them like a storm. Its arrival drew gazes from all nearby. The bird descended gracefully before the elder.

“I’ve been waiting,” the gray-robed elder said softly.

As the old man watched his friend mount the bird and vanish into the sky, he sighed, his game ruined.

“Should’ve sent five invitations in the first place… why make it complicated with extra attachments?”

He glanced back at the Go board — and froze.

Something was wrong.

His eyes narrowed.

“Damn you, you scoundrel! You’re running away when you’re about to lose!”

…

The plump elder, Shen Yunqing, was no light figure — despite his name. He soared on his spirit bird, racing toward the Second Trial.

His concern was genuine — not just for the boy’s safety, but for the consequences should anything happen.

Please, Old Tang… know what you’re doing. Make sure he makes it across the cliff.

Then, his gaze swept downward — and caught sight of two figures walking along the mountain path.

Clad in fine silks, their auras unmistakably refined, beyond the ordinary. And the crest on their robes — he knew it too well.

The Li Family of the General’s Mansion.

“Huh?” Shen Yunqing blinked, then immediately signaled his spirit bird to descend.

The wind roared overhead. The bird’s three eyes gleamed as it landed a few zhang above the ground.

Li Hao and Li Yuanzhao paused, looking up.

There, seated on the bird’s neck, was a short, stocky old man. He leaned forward, scanning them with sharp eyes — then, spotting something he recognized, he grinned and leapt down with surprising agility.

He waved the spirit bird away, then turned to the two youths with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Ah! You must be the young masters from the Divine General’s Residence. Which wing of the mansion do you hail from? May I know your names?”

Their demeanor was polite — not surprised. After all, their lineage was legendary. Even the most elite nobles treated them with deference.

“This is my brother, Li Hao,” said Li Yuanzhao, his small eyes glinting with sharp awareness beneath a playful, boisterous exterior. “I’m Li Yuanzhao.”

Shen Yunqing’s gaze locked onto Li Hao.

A memory stirred — ancient, long buried.

That child… Emperor Yu himself bestowed the name upon the Li Clan… the one called Hao…

Yes. It was him.

No expression showed on Shen Yunqing’s face. He simply nodded, smiling.

“They didn’t trouble you, did they? Come, I’ll take you to the gathering ahead.”

He assumed they had arrived via invitation — a smooth journey, untouched by trials.

Li Hao and Yuanzhao didn’t know the old man. No conversation flowed between them as they walked side by side.

Li Hao glanced around, taking in the mountain scenery. Not bad, he thought. If I’m to stay here, at least the view is pleasant. Peaceful, even.

Soon, they reached the end of the plaza.

Hundreds of cultivators stood gathered before three towering stone steles.

“What… is this?” Li Yuanzhao whispered, glancing at Shen Yunqing.

Among the crowd, he spotted Li Yun and his sister — already here, standing before the stele with the fewest people around it.

“These are the ones who’ve made it,” Shen Yunqing explained, stroking his beard with a gentle smile. “They’re now officially accepted as disciples of the Tan Palace Academy.”

“But not all disciples are equal,” he continued. “We divide our students into four-tiered academic classes — Class A, B, C, and D — ranked by potential. This prevents weaker students from dragging down stronger ones, and stops the strong from dominating the weak.”

He gestured toward the three steles.

“These record three combat scriptures — Lower-Grade, Middle-Grade, and Upper-Grade. Each has increasing difficulty.”

“Within three days, those who master the Upper-Grade Cultivation Technique beginner level will enter Class A.

Those who grasp the Middle-Grade beginner level qualify for Class B.

Those who achieve the Lower-Grade beginner level in three days will be placed in Class C.

And if, after three days, you haven’t mastered any of them… you’ll be assigned to Class D.”

Shen Yunqing smiled.

“In Class D, the bottom three performers each term must take a Retake Exam. Fail it — and you’ll be forcibly withdrawn from studies.”

Li Yuanzhao nodded, understanding dawning.

Li Hao tilted his head.

“And what if someone refuses to listen? What if they just… don’t care?”

Shen Yunqing’s smile faltered — just slightly.

Refuse to listen?

He stared at Li Hao, then chuckled — but there was no warmth in it.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end