Chapter 53: The Radiance Behind the Splendor

The earth trembled faintly around him.

Li Hao froze, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings—distant, broken peaks, the Crimson Sky itself, all gradually fading into mist.

Complete the Realm?

The Meh River Battle Realm was vanishing?

Li Hao stood stunned. Everything had happened too fast—too sudden—for him to react.

The ground beneath him cracked and sank, the small grass hut trembling violently, on the verge of collapse. With a swift step, Li Hao vanished in a blur, reappearing instantly in the central stage of the village.

He pulled out the Golden Paper and swiftly placed it into the eerie shrine.

A sudden burst of brilliant golden light erupted from within. A Waterlight Barrier flared into existence, enveloping him in a shimmering dome.

Standing safe within the barrier, Li Hao watched in silence as the village outside tore apart—like the world itself was being ripped apart. The land split open, structures crumbled, and everything dissolved into swirling chaos before vanishing entirely.

He was back in that narrow, ancient cave.

The old, humble shrine dimmed, its golden glow fading. It looked ordinary now—just a weathered stone structure, two crumbling, rotting statues with half-smiling lips.

The Golden Paper shot back like a thread of light, returning to Li Hao’s palm. A warm sensation pulsed through his hand—like a faint thread of Spirit Soul Qi now coiled within him.

He could feel it.

With a mere thought, the golden thread floated in his palm, reshaping itself into the familiar form of the Golden Paper.

Three lines of text glowed upon it:

Name: Chong Er

Merit Points: 100 (Rank 99 in the Great Yu Dynasty)

Achievement: Complete the Realm — Fengshan Meh River

...

So this is Merit Points? Li Hao studied the paper closely. He’d heard Second Uncle and Old Feng speak of the Meh River Battle Realms—five-tiered, vastly different in scale. What he’d just experienced was clearly the lowest level: a Fragmentary Memory-Level Mehé.

Destroying a Meh River Battle Realm granted Merit Points.

But if one Completed the Realm—erasing the Meh River permanently—the reward was exponentially greater—hundreds of times more than a simple destruction.

That meant:

If he’d only killed the black-robed scholar and razed the village, he’d have gained just a single point.

Unless it was a residual spirit-level remnant.

Above that were Yinsha-Level Mehé.

Then Mingyu-Level.

And the most dangerous—Second Uncle had never dared speak of them openly—Youdu-Level Mehé.

The worst of all?

The true Meh River.

Even Second Uncle and Old Feng refused to name it.

To enter it was to die—even Hao Sheng-Level cultivators like them would be obliterated.

Youdu-Level Mehé was marked as Restricted.

Mingyu-Level? Only Celestial Human Sect Masters dared step into those realms.

The Meh River had existed for millennia.

Though the Li Clan’s duty wasn’t to suppress it, they did possess fragmented records.

Destroying a Yinsha-Level Mehé yielded about 10 Merit Points.

A Mingyu-Level? Around 100.

But Completing the Realm of a Mingyu-Level Mehé?

That brought in 10,000 points.

As for what Merit Points were for—no one knew.

Even the Heavenly Zhao Divine General’s Residence, which had guarded the Meh River for generations, had failed to uncover their purpose.

Rumors, however, abounded.

Some said they could be exchanged for a divine rebirth after death.

Others claimed they could accumulate merit, offsetting karmic sins.

But rumors ended where real power began.

If even the two elders admitted they couldn’t fathom their use, then the truth was plain: no one had figured it out.

For now, the only practical function of Merit Points was as a crude ranking system—a way to roughly estimate how many strong cultivators still existed within Emperor Yu’s domain.

Important: "Currently alive."

If a person with Merit Points died, their points vanished. They were erased from the list.

To elite factions, this made Merit Points a chilling tool—one that could detect a man’s death at a glance.

Second Elder must be on the list too, Li Hao mused.

Where does he rank?

As if in response, the Golden Paper shimmered—its text shifting, unfolding into a full Merit Ranking List.

The first name leapt into view:

Wang Zhendong

Merit Points: 9,372

Second: Wang Tianchong

Merit Points: 7,328

Third? Again, the surname Wang.

Fourth, fifth…

Li Hao scanned down.

Of the top ten? Six were Wangs.

Of the top thirty? Fifteen.

His expression darkened.

A wave of unease settled in his chest.

The Wang family was tasked with suppressing the Meh River.

But at what cost?

Each name on that list—each glittering number—wasn’t just data.

It was blood.

It was countless battles.

It was near-death escapes, sacrifices, and silence in the dark.

No different from Frontier Spirit Beast hunts.

The Li Clan, guarding the border, had lost six of their nine sons in the last generation.

Utterly devastating.

Now, it seemed the Heavenly Zhao Residence wasn’t spared either.

How many Wangs had died before?

How many names had once been on this list—only to vanish without a trace?

And yet—

The dynasty still stood.

Peaceful. Prosperous.

Villagers strolled, girls sailed on flower boats, youths rode horses beyond the city walls, vendors shouted through the streets, laughter ringing in the air.

A life of carefree ease.

A thousand homes lit with warmth.

But how many nameless heroes had died in silence, their bones buried deep in the dark, holding this peace in their hands?

“This… peace,” Li Hao whispered, “is not free.”

A deep reverence stirred in his heart.

He continued reading.

But Second Uncle’s name was not there.

Perhaps he used a false identity.

Then—there it was.

Bu Liuxing.

Rank 35.

Merit Points: 3,201.

Li Hao froze.

He was certain.

Only one man could have such a name and such a score—the Thief Sage.

Wind Elder, solitary, yet with such a high score?

Li Hao’s eyes narrowed.

The man had few allies.

Second Uncle was his only real connection.

So every point—every one—was earned through his own blood and blade.

Alone. Against the Meh River.

Yet the world scorned him.

A thief. A pariah.

Hated by every faction.

Why would he risk his life for something no one valued?

No answer mattered.

Perhaps the question itself was the answer.

Li Hao fell silent.

A fleeting memory surfaced—Old Feng, the one who’d joked with him while fishing, smiling, careless.

They’d shared a moment.

But he’d never truly known him.

After a pause, he kept reading.

Then—another name.

Jian Wudao.

He was listed by his real name.

Like the Wangs.

Most others used aliases.

Even the Thief Sage’s Bu Liuxing—no one would use that surname openly.

Sword Saint…

Li Hao narrowed his eyes.

His rank: 76.

Merit Points: 738.

That meant he’d destroyed at least seven Mingyu-Level Mehé, or Completed the Realm of seven Fragmentary Memory-Level ones.

Yet Li Hao already knew:

Merit Ranking didn’t reflect true strength.

The Thief Sage and Sword Saint were both Four Foundations Realm cultivators.

But their points differed by nearly fivefold.

Many powerful cultivators didn’t even participate.

Why would they?

The Meh River suppression brought no tangible reward—only a meager imperial bounty.

And the Merit Points?

Useless. Unknown.

The world is full of greed.

No profit, no movement.

This was why the Meh River Bureau was perpetually understaffed.

Why the situation was so tense.

And why Li Hao’s completion of a single Fragmentary Memory-Level Mehé had landed him in the Emperor Yu top 100.

He exhaled softly, folding the Golden Paper away.

Then—his senses twitched.

Someone was approaching.

Li Hao snapped back to awareness.

He turned.

The shrine before him was sinking—slowly, silently—into the earth.

It was dissolving.

This shrine was tied to the Fengshan Meh River.

Now that the river was gone, so too would the shrine vanish.

Wait—

A cold realization struck him.

Could this really be the very same Meh River… the one meant for the Newcomer Trial a year from now?

If so—

Then the trial… had just been erased.

Did I just destroy the exam papers for all the incoming candidates?

Li Hao groaned inwardly.

He’d only wanted to teach that scholar how to draw.

He’d never meant to Complete the Realm!

Time to go.

With a flicker, Li Hao vanished in an instant—leaving nothing behind.

As he fled, across the world, countless eyes snapped open.

Dozens of powerful cultivators, scattered across distant realms, suddenly stirred—alarmed.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end