Chapter 79: Great Demon King

Tan Palace Academy could attract geniuses from the Nineteen Provinces not only because of the exceptional teaching abilities of its masters—but also due to this legendary art. It was the academy’s Palace’s Treasured Treasure, rarely shared with outsiders. Yet, should one claim victory in the Tancheng Palace White Hall Championship, they would be granted the right to study it.

“If one could pick up this Sword technique along the way, that would be a fine bonus,” Li Hao said with a smile.

He truly had come for this art—though not, as others might assume, as his primary goal. After all, if he’d truly needed it urgently, he could’ve easily asked Old Feng to secretly copy it for him.

Hearing Li Hao’s words, Huang Lichai’s lips curled upward, his face revealing a look of “I knew it.” He thought to himself: This kid’s good at pretending. Nearly fooled me.

Song Yufeng and the others exchanged glances, their expressions softening with understanding.

Once Li Hao left the hall, Song Yufeng turned to the others and asked, “Since he’s here for the Taiji Qiankun Sword, what are your thoughts?”

“The Li Clan keeps their word,” Shen Yunqing murmured, stroking his beard with a smile. “Back then, the Third Young Master of the Li Family took our transcribed copy of the sword manual, swearing never to share it with another soul. And he kept his promise.”

“Indeed,” a senior elder nodded. “No wonder this young man came to us.”

Though the Third Young Master of the Li Family had once stormed the mountain in a fury, inciting the entire academy, time had passed. The man had long since died on the battlefield beyond the frontier. By now, even the memory of his arrogance had faded.

And it was said that on his final day, he had used the Taiji Qiankun Sword to pierce through the heads of seventeen Demon Kings in one stroke—sending shockwaves through the underworld. That moment had been the sword’s most dazzling display in history, a feat that brought honor to Tan Palace Academy.

“But he’s just started his studies,” someone said, turning to Song Yufeng. “Can we really hand over the manual so easily?”

Song Yufeng felt a subtle shift in his heart, but said nothing.

“What’s the alternative?” Zhao Zongyuan scoffed. “He’s already at the Fifteen Li Stage. Even in the White Hall, he’d be a dominant force—crushing all rivals with one hand. Should we old men step in?”

“The rules still stand,” said another elder. “All disciples must complete three years in the inner palace before accessing such treasures. Otherwise, any True Dragon from a Divine General’s Residence could just walk in and take what they want.”

“That’s true,” Shen Yunqing frowned. “But keeping him here for three years with nothing meaningful to teach him? It would waste such a genius’s time.”

He had shared a game of chess, a drink, even a barbecue with Li Hao—whose meat skewers had been outstanding. He couldn’t help but feel a soft spot for the boy.

“The palace regulations are clear,” said a Mala Elder, his expression stern. “We can’t make exceptions for the Li Clan.”

Huang Lichai spoke up: “We’ve already broken precedent once. Remember, we teach geniuses—those who are meant to shatter norms. If we bind them with rigid rules, that’s the real failure.”

“But if we set this example,” Song Yufeng mused, “then every other Divine General’s Residence genius will come knocking. It’ll become common.”

After a moment of silence, he proposed, “Let’s give him a choice: either serve as a teacher at Tan Palace for one year, or become our Black and White Hall’s Apprentice Master. That way, the sword manual isn’t handed out freely.”

The suggestion fell like a stone into still water. Everyone fell silent, exchanging glances.

Old fox indeed… the Palace Master always finds a way…

By the Thousand-Reach Cliff of Tancheng Palace, beside a deep, jade-green pool.

As Li Hao descended the mountain path, he paused at the sight of the shimmering waters. The scene stirred something deep within him. Without hesitation, he returned to the student dorms, fetched paper and brush, and came back to the pool’s edge.

He set up his Painting Board and began to sketch.

The Character Panel’s Experience Level-Up system was surprisingly human-like. The amount of Painting Dao Experience gained depended on the depth of意境 (artistic conception) or the cultivator’s realm reflected in the artwork. Copying a Great Demon would yield significant gains. High-realm portraits worked the same.

But after repeated renditions, the experience would gradually decline—so variety was key.

Still, Li Hao suspected that to truly enter the Spirit stage of Painting Dao, one must abandon the pursuit of experience entirely, pushing the depiction of a subject beyond the ordinary, through countless repetitions—hundreds, thousands, even ten thousand times—before there was even a chance of capturing Spiritual Essence.

Right now, his Painting Path was only at the fifth stage. He hadn’t yet reached the peak of the sixth. First, he’d raise it to full.

With a swift splash of ink, he drew the jagged, towering cliffs. Then, with fluid strokes, the outline of the pool emerged. A landscape stood fully formed on the paper.

He painted three times in succession. Experience flared:

+183, +145, +92…

Deep beneath the pool, a massive shadow lay coiled upon the stone floor.

Suddenly, its eyes snapped open. A chill sensation—like being watched—rippled through its being. It was an intrusion, a disturbance to its long slumber.

A ripple of divine awareness surged outward. It detected a boy on the bank.

Where did this brat come from? It grunted disdainfully, then rose from the stone in one fluid motion, darting toward the surface.

Plash! Plash!

Water erupted in a violent spray.

Li Hao, mid-drawing for the fourth time, was startled by the sudden rupture of the pool. A creature burst forth—emerging in a cascade of water—a magnificent Azure Blue Qilin, its form shimmering like liquid sky.

Water Qilin?

Li Hao stared, wide-eyed, frozen in disbelief.

One human. One beast. Staring at each other.

“Who allowed you here?” the Water Qilin snapped, shaking droplets from its head. Its voice was delicate, like clear spring water. “Get out—now!”

Li Hao had heard tales: the academy’s founding Palace Master had once tamed a Great Demon Qilin to guard Tancheng Palace. And now, it stood before him.

They said this was a Four Foundations Realm Great Demon King.

Li Hao’s eyes sparkled with excitement—bright, starlit, utterly captivated.

“Senior!” Li Hao bowed deeply. “May I paint your portrait?”

If he could capture this creature, his Painting Dao Experience would skyrocket. He’d already drained Second Uncle, Old Feng, and Fifth Elder—each had gifted him immense experience. Now, this was his next target.

“…?”

The Water Qilin tilted its head, a massive question mark forming in its mind.

Is this academy student mad? Did he lose his mind from training too hard?

“What nonsense are you spouting?” The Water Qilin’s eyes flashed with irritation. A wave of icy qi rippled from it—so cold the surrounding water seemed on the verge of freezing.

“Leave, or I’ll eat you.”

Li Hao knew it was bluffing. The Water Qilin couldn’t harm a disciple of Tancheng Palace—unless the offense was extreme.

Still, the sheer divine aura it exuded sent a shiver down his spine. Even Second Uncle had never radiated such power in his presence.

Swallowing hard, he pressed on: “I’m from the Li Clan, senior. If you eat me, I’m afraid the taste won’t be… very good.”

“Li Clan?” The Water Qilin’s icy gaze faltered slightly. That taste? It wasn’t just bad—it might even strip its own scales.

“Hmph,” it sneered. “Even if I don’t eat you, I’ll give you a few bruises. But the Li Clan won’t dare do anything about it.”

It wasn’t truly planning to harm him. After all, if the old Li Clan elders came demanding justice, it would be hard to justify: Your son disturbed my dream—I punished him.

It was a senior. It should have dignity.

In human terms, one must have magnanimity.

With that thought, it stirred the water, preparing to sweep Li Hao away.

But just then, Li Hao shouted:

“Don’t move!”

“Senior, please—don’t move!”

His voice trembled with urgency. “Just hold still—just for a moment. I’ll be done in an instant!”

“…?”

The Water Qilin’s vast, pure-blue eyes blinked in confusion.

In that instant, Li Hao had already raised his brush. With fierce concentration, he began to paint.

The scene was breathtaking.

The Water Qilin stood in the emerald pool, its body wreathed in surging waves, the sheer cliff towering behind it—a true sovereign of the waters.

“You…?”

The Water Qilin’s voice wavered, a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

What is this strange creature doing?

Seeing the beast had truly frozen in place, Li Hao’s gaze sharpened. His entire being focused on the paper. His brush moved like wind and water—light, heavy, swift, slow—layer upon layer, each stroke precise.

Half a stick of incense later, just as he neared completion, the Water Qilin grew impatient.

“Hey,” it growled, summoning a surge of water. “What are you playing at?”

But Li Hao had already finished the last swirling ripple of the pool’s edge. With a final stroke, he drew the last blade of green grass by the shore.

The painting was complete.

【Painting Path Experience +1986】

Li Hao’s heart leapt. This single piece was worth more than a hundred of his usual works.

“Thank you, senior!” He snapped back to reality, bowing deeply to the irate Water Qilin.

This wasn’t just about experience. It was also gratitude—for the beast’s patience, allowing him to complete such a masterpiece.

His Painting Dao had entered his heart. The joy of creating the artwork now rivaled the thrill of gaining experience.

“Finished?” The Water Qilin raised an eyebrow. It knew a few things about human customs. Coldly, it ordered, “Show me.”

Li Hao nodded, turning the board.

Instantly, a breathtaking masterpiece unfolded before the Water Qilin’s eyes.

The cliff, sharp as a sword. The pool, deep and silent. And the Azure Blue Qilin—standing proud, radiating power, waves churning around it like a living storm.

Its eyes slowly widened.

That… is me?

Could I… really be that beautiful?

With a sudden flash, the Water Qilin vanished from the pool.

In a blink, it stepped onto the bank—its body shrinking, transforming. In the space of a breath, it became a woman in a flowing Azure Blue silk skirt.

Her hair was ocean-blue, her face flawless—pale as jade. A single ink tear mark traced her left eye. Bare feet, white as snow, floated gently above the ground as she stepped toward the painting.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end