Chapter 45: Turning the Tables

Both men thought of the same thing at the same time, their eyes meeting briefly before their expressions subtly hardened.

As instructors at the academy, how could they possibly set a precedent by helping a student cheat?

No, no—no matter who you are, even if you’re the Young Master of Divine General’s Residence, it still won’t work. And don’t even get me started on gifts—what kind of nonsense is that? Even if you did offer one, it still wouldn’t matter. You’re not even a prince.

While the two elders scrambled mentally for a polite way to refuse the young man’s request, Li Hao had already answered Shen Yunqing’s question:

“The Combat Scripture on the Stele? I’ve already mastered it.”

“Honestly, it’s only natural you’d find it difficult,” he continued, “you just need to keep studying it slowly—”

Shen Yunqing’s words trailed off mid-sentence, his face freezing in shock as he stared at Li Hao.

“What?” he blurted. “You said… what?”

“I said,” Li Hao repeated patiently, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice—was the old man going deaf? “The Combat Scripture inscribed on the Stele? I’ve already mastered it.”

“Mastered?”

Across from him, the Gray-Robed Elder Zhao Zongyuan blinked, his eyes widening. Mastered—did that mean beginner level?

“Which one did you choose?” Shen Yunqing snapped back to attention, scrutinizing Li Hao with sharp, suspicious eyes. The boy was clearly bluffing. “Cleaving Wind Fist or Nine-Star Three-Tier Step?”

“Cleaving Wind Fist,” Li Hao replied after a pause, realizing even he had to admit the claim sounded a bit astonishing. Without hesitation, he threw a punch.

The air trembled slightly, a low, resonant hum rippling through the fist’s path—like a blade of wind slicing through the atmosphere, sharp enough to cut.

The two elders’ gazes locked onto the move, recognition flashing in their eyes.

That was one of the core techniques of Cleaving Wind Fist—Wind Chime Slash.

This wasn’t just beginner-level proficiency. This was skillful. Possibly even perfection.

Could it be…?

They exchanged a glance, their eyes darkening with quiet alarm.

The Pavilion of Listening to Rain under the Li Clan was said to house countless martial scriptures. Could Cleaving Wind Fist really be among them?

But the three Combat Scriptures on the Stele had been acquired by the Tan Palace Academy six years ago—rotated every cycle. No record of them ever appearing outside the academy’s walls.

In the intricate web of alliances and rivalries among great clans, the Second Elder’s mind raced with speculation. Yet he quickly suppressed them, refraining from pressing Li Hao.

They simply couldn’t conceive that Li Hao had mastered the entire form in mere moments.

In that short time, even reading it thoroughly would only grant a basic understanding—let alone reaching the level of skillful or perfection.

“Well then,” Shen Yunqing said, recovering, “you’ve already passed the test. But we don’t administer trials. Go speak with that man over there.”

He gestured toward the center of the plaza, where a middle-aged man stood with hands clasped behind his back, calm and composed. Before him, four youths were practicing Combat Scripture—awkward, stiff movements, clearly still green.

“I’ll go later,” Li Hao said calmly, his eyes lingering on the Go board between the two elders. He scanned it twice and immediately saw the situation.

“This game’s nearly lost,” he said.

“Huh?” The Second Elder raised an eyebrow. Shen Yunqing arched his brows.

“You’re just a child—do you even know how to play Go?”

“Just a little,” Li Hao replied humbly.

“Oh?” Zhao Zongyuan smirked, glancing at Shen Yunqing with playful mockery. “Then tell us—who’s going to win?”

Shen Yunqing shot him a sour look, muttering under his breath.

“If they keep playing like that,” Li Hao said, pointing at Shen Yunqing, “he’ll lose.”

Shen Yunqing’s face flushed, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. But he couldn’t deny the boy had insight. He cleared his throat.

“I was just coming to meet you—my mind wasn’t on the game. Didn’t play properly.”

“Hah! If it weren’t for the young one here,” Zhao Zongyuan grumbled, “I’d kick you in the backside.” He rolled his eyes.

Then, turning to Li Hao, he said, “So you’re saying this game still has a chance of winning?”

“Yes,” Li Hao nodded, his voice suddenly firm, no longer casual. “If they change their approach, he can win.”

“Oh?” Zhao Zongyuan had been teasing, but now his smile faded. His tone turned serious. “Then tell me—how does he win?”

Shen Yunqing, startled, stared at Li Hao.

Knowing the outcome was possible was one thing—but seeing a winning path? That was impossible. Even he couldn’t find a way out.

“Place a stone here,” Li Hao said, pointing to a spot on the board.

Zhao Zongyuan glanced at it, then smirked. “What if I place here?” He pointed to a neighboring point.

“Here.” Li Hao pointed again.

“What about here?”

“Here.”

Zhao Zongyuan was about to point to another blocking position—when his expression froze.

His eyes locked onto the board.

No stones had been placed yet, but in his mind, the board was already imprinted. The spots Li Hao had indicated now glowed faintly in his vision.

At first glance, the stones seemed meaningless—nothing special. Yet… there was something subtle.

That broken vein—was it possible to connect it?

Zhao Zongyuan’s expression darkened. His finger withdrew, his face drawn into deep thought.

Beside him, Shen Yunqing had initially seen nothing. But when he noticed his old friend’s sudden shift in demeanor, he paused, then leaned in, studying the board closely.

After a few moments, his eyes lit up.

That’s it!

There was a Snake Mouth Connecting sensation—like a hidden thread pulling the scattered fragments together.

The once-irreversible death position had suddenly found a sliver of life.

“I’ll play here…” Zhao Zongyuan murmured, pointing to another spot, aiming to sever the Dragon Vein completely and end the threat.

But Li Hao, as if anticipating it, raised a hand and pointed again.

“Small Flying Corner. Corner Break Momentum.”

The stone he indicated would form a Flying Knife shape—cutting through the killing path.

Slap!

Shen Yunqing slammed his palm onto his thigh. “Brilliant!” he breathed. “Why didn’t I see that? How could I miss such a move?!”

Zhao Zongyuan’s pupils narrowed. Without restraint, he looked up at Li Hao’s youthful face—his expression dazed.

This boy was barely more than a child.

And yet, his Go skill was so sharp, so calculating…

Could talent in Go really be innate?

“Come on, come on—sit here,” Shen Yunqing said, shuffling aside with a grunt. “Let me see what you can do. Lose all you want—but if you win, I’ll give you a sip of Drunk Wind Brew.”

“Alright,” Li Hao said simply, not bothering with formalities. He’d come here for this very reason.

He settled into the spot. The grass beneath him, once flattened, still held a faint warmth.

Zhao Zongyuan’s brow furrowed. His face grew grave. He stared at Li Hao—no longer wondering how a boy could possess such skill, but instead focusing, centering his mind.

“Then let’s see,” he said quietly.

Li Hao reached into the Go stone box, his index and middle fingers pinching a black stone. He placed it on the board—filling in the first position Li Hao had indicated.

Zhao Zongyuan didn’t speak. He placed his own stone in response.

The real battle had begun.

On the vast plaza, young nobles and wandering martial artists trained relentlessly, sweating through forms and footwork, vying for a single spot in Jia Yi Academy.

But here, in this quiet corner, on a tiny board no bigger than a palm, the struggle was fierce—each stone placed like a blade, each move a calculated strike. Step by step, the chess war unfolded.

After a long silence, an old hand trembled as it reached into the stone box. It fumbled, then dropped the stone.

Zhao Zongyuan’s wrinkled face, streaked with sweat, mirrored the youthful warriors on the field.

The game was decided.

“I… lose,” he said, his voice cracked, dry.

Beside him, Shen Yunqing stared, stunned.

The game—his game—had been lost, a hopeless position. Yet under Li Hao’s guidance, the entire course had been overturned. Every territory lost was reclaimed. Step by step, the relentless attack built, and in the final count, Li Hao secured a half-point victory.

A half-point win.

Small? Perhaps.

But to turn a certain defeat into a miraculous reversal—this was nothing short of miraculous.

“Respectfully, I yield,” Li Hao said, bowing slightly. His expression remained solemn, but after the bow, his posture relaxed.

His Go Art was Fifth Dan—often playing against the Fifth Elder. He’d never faced true outsiders. These two elders, though skilled, were clearly only around Fourth Dan level.

Still, impressive.

After all, the Second Elder was a martial practitioner—yet still found time to master Go to this degree. It spoke volumes about his dedication.

Zhao Zongyuan let out a bitter laugh, staring at Li Hao as if he were a monster.

How could a boy from the Li Clan—still younger than the time I’ve spent playing Go—defeat me so thoroughly?

Could Go truly be a matter of talent?

“Frightening… frightening,” Shen Yunqing muttered, awestruck.

Li Hao smiled. “Just luck. Want to play another?”

Zhao Zongyuan sighed, silent. “You haven’t even tested the Combat Scripture yet. The名额 for Jia Yi Academy is limited. Go secure your spot first.”

“Ah… right,” Li Hao said, snapping back to reality. Though he didn’t care much about the Jia Yi spot, avoiding future trouble was wise.

“Wait for me, elders,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Zhao Zongyuan and Shen Yunqing exchanged a strange look.

What kind of obsession does this boy have? He’s more eager to play Go than to train for Jia Yi Academy!

“Wait for me!” Li Hao called again as he stood, turning to leave.

Then, with a quick dash, he vanished toward the middle-aged man at the center of the plaza.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end