Chapter 87: Fury and Revelation

Crimson Blood Horse!

Li Tiangang sat稳如磐石 atop Jiao Shi, his eyes locking onto the youth at the heart of the Imperial Road, far in the distance.

The moment he recognized the warhorse beneath the boy’s seat, and then saw the boy’s face—strikingly handsome, clear-eyed, with features that carved themselves into the very core of his memory—he felt a jolt run through his soul.

That face… it was her.

The faint contours of the woman he had once loved, etched into his heart over a lifetime, now mirrored in the boy before him.

Li Tiangang’s heart thudded.

Li Hao, too, stared intently at the broad-shouldered, composed man.

Faint echoes from his past surged forward—fifteen years of fragmented memories suddenly sharpened into clarity. The rough, calloused hand that had once ruffled his hair, back when he was just a child… that was him.

Fourteen years apart. And yet, in a single glance, recognition flashed between them—unmistakable, immediate.

Whoosh!

Li Tiangang leapt from Jiao Shi’s back with a sudden burst of motion, landing gracefully before the Crimson Blood Horse.

The boy dismounted in an instant, not a second wasted. There was no reason to ride a warhorse when speaking to one’s father.

“Hao’er?” Li Tiangang’s voice trembled.

Li Hao felt the raw emotion beneath those words—the care, the longing, the love. The last traces of hesitation vanished like mist in sunlight.

Perhaps this was what bloodline meant—this invisible thread, binding two souls across time and silence.

“Father,” Li Hao said, voice slightly rough, tinged with awkwardness. But he knew—this man, before him, was his true father.

Li Tiangang pulled him into a crushing embrace.

Fourteen years. His son—grown so tall, so strong.

The weight of his joy was overwhelming.

The broad arms, the solid chest, the familiar scent of battle and iron—Li Hao felt it all. A deep, unshakable sense of safety. For the first time in his life, his heart felt settled.

His hands gently wrapped around Li Tiangang’s waist—then froze.

His eyes darted around.

“Where’s Mother?”

The words were barely out when the man holding him stiffened—just slightly, but unmistakably.

Li Hao’s blood ran cold.

Li Tiangang slowly released him. His dark, fathomless eyes, usually so calm, now shimmered with faint red veins and sorrow.

“She… she’s gone.”

Gone?

Li Hao’s mind froze.

The woman from his memories—the warm, gentle eyes that had watched over him… gone?

Like a beautiful painting torn apart in darkness.

Li Hao turned, scanning the triumphant procession behind him—the cheering crowds, the flares of admiration, the songs of praise for Xing Wuhou’s return, for Li Clan’s glory.

All of it faded into silence.

Among the wounded, the heroes, the survivors—there was no trace of her.

No familiar embrace.

Li Hao’s face darkened. “How could this be? She was with you always. You fought together—through fire and storm!”

Li Tiangang’s lips parted, but no sound came.

Li Hao stared at him, voice rising. “When did she leave? Why has Madam Da never mentioned it?”

“Months ago,” Li Tiangang said quietly. “I… kept it secret. I didn’t let it spread.”

He saw the storm in his son’s eyes and laid a broad hand on his shoulder.

“Come. Let’s go home. We’ll talk there.”

Li Hao’s joy, just moments ago so bright, now dimmed to ash.

The people still cheered. The city still sang.

But only Li Hao—riding now with his father on Jiao Shi—knew the truth.

Today, he had lost his mother.

...

Back at the Divine General’s Residence.

He Jianlan, Liu Yuerong, and the other Ladies had gathered in the Mountain and River Courtyard, waiting with eager anticipation. Li Xuanli had been pacing by the gate, restless, until Li Tiangang finally appeared—then, like a wave of relief, his Brothers’ faces lit up with smiles.

They embraced deeply.

Then Li Xuanli, with a burst of affection, punched Li Tiangang’s armored chest—hard—before ruffling Li Hao’s hair with a grin.

“Where’s the little sister?” he asked, glancing around.

Li Tiangang’s expression flickered. He shook his head.

“Later. Back at the house.”

Li Xuanli froze. His smile faltered. He noticed then—Li Hao hadn’t even flinched when he’d touched his head. The boy stood still, silent, like a statue.

The joy in his eyes vanished.

He nodded slowly, falling in step with them.

Inside the courtyard, the celebration was loud, vibrant—but it dimmed instantly when news spread: Seventh Lady Ji Qingqing hadn’t returned.

Li Tiangang said only two words: She’s gone.

The air turned icy.

The Ladies exchanged glances—eyes heavy with sorrow. They’d lost too many before. This pain was familiar.

One by one, they approached, offering comfort to father and son.

Only He Jianlan stood apart, watching from afar, exhaling a quiet breath.

The day before, she’d been humiliated by Li Hao—left bruised and angry. Yet now, seeing the lonely boy standing beside his father, silent and still, her heart ached. The bitterness melted. The urge to gloat vanished.

She, too, was Li Clan. Blood ran deep. No matter how much she’d wanted to punish him, she’d never truly meant him harm.

The celebration died down. Meals were served, but the conversation was soft, careful. They spoke of Yanbei—of war, of hardship, of years spent on the frontier.

Though official reports had reached home, details were sparse. Now, finally, the long silence could be broken.

As the sun set, the Ladies left one by one.

Li Xuanli lingered, wanting to stay, to comfort the youngest.

But his wife pulled him away.

Gao Qingqing saw her husband’s longing. She frowned. Quietly, she pulled him aside.

“Can you really fix this with a few kind words?” she whispered. “They haven’t seen each other in fourteen years. You’re just in the way.”

Li Xuanli blinked. Then, slowly, it dawned on him.

He squeezed his wife’s hand. Good heavens… I’m blessed to have such a woman.

He bowed to Li Tiangang, then left with his family.

The courtyard was empty now—only Li Tiangang, his Yanbei attendants, Li Hao, and Zhao Bo remained.

During dinner, Li Hao learned much from the elders’ talk.

Ordinary wars lasted a few years. Rarely more than a decade. But this one had dragged on for fifteen, even sixteen years—because the Demon Clan’s Sacred Palace sought to tear Yanbei apart, using it as a gateway to challenge Emperor Yu’s dominion.

From their words, Li Hao realized: even in an age of peace, war never truly ends.

Emperor Yu’s reign was golden—but gold could tarnish. The frontier would always be guarded. There would always be invaders—some few, some many.

But this war… it wasn’t just a threat. It was a resurgence.

The ancient power that Emperor Yu had forged—his conquests, his dominion over Spirit Beasts—was fading. After thousands of years, the old shadows were stirring.

Emperor Yu was like an aging lion, its strength still great, but its time slipping.

How many more centuries could its shadow last?

Li Hao wanted to ask about his mother’s death.

But as soon as he began, Li Tiangang’s face darkened. He shook his head.

“Hao’er… I failed her. From now on, it’s just you and me.”

Li Hao fell silent.

He realized—his pain wasn’t the only one.

She had followed Li Tiangang across the night, through storms and fire. That loyalty had been real. He’d heard stories—of their love, of their laughter, of how they’d once danced in the courtyard under moonlight.

He had known her for less than a hundred days.

But Li Tiangang had lived with her for years. Their bond was deeper than blood could measure.

After a pause, Li Hao asked, voice quiet: “Did you avenge her?”

Li Tiangang’s body tensed. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Yes.”

Li Hao exhaled.

Father and son stared at each other—no words, only silence.

The resentment he’d carried for years? Gone.

Now, he had nothing left to say.

Perhaps, some things were always meant to remain unspoken.

Then, Li Tiangang spoke, voice soft.

“Hao’er… I was not there for you. You must have suffered.”

Li Hao smiled faintly. “Not at all. Zhao Bo was with me. Second Uncle taught me fishing. Fifth Elder played chess with me. Madam Da was kind. Ninth Lady sent me sweet treats from the palace sometimes…”

He recounted the small joys of his life—the quiet days, the simple comforts.

But Li Tiangang, at first, smiled.

Then his brow creased.

“So… you unblocked your meridians… but you didn’t cultivate?”

Li Hao blinked. “I did. Just… not much to tell.”

Li Tiangang studied him. A sigh escaped him.

“It’s late. You should rest.”

Li Hao noticed the weariness in his father’s eyes—long days of travel, battles, return. He stood.

“Alright.”

He turned to leave.

But as he did, Li Tiangang called out: “Zhao Bo.”

The old steward appeared.

“Where’s Li Fu?”

“Li Fu is in Cangyu City. Young Master joined Tan Palace Academy. He was sent on a mission there. I was protecting him secretly—got injured, and am recovering. He sent word—he’s on his way back.”

Li Tiangang’s expression tightened. “Injured? Did someone attack Hao’er?”

“No. He just told me to watch over the Young Master. Said he had ‘big news’ when he returned.”

“Big news?” Li Tiangang frowned. “Even injured, he still has news?”

He thought for a moment. Cangyu City was in Qi Prefecture—close, but not too close. A swift horse could reach it in two days.

“Zhao Bo,” Li Tiangang said, gesturing to a cushion. “Tell me about Hao’er. These past years.”

Zhao Bo hesitated. “Sir… why not ask the Young Master directly? You haven’t seen him in fourteen years. You must have so many things to say.”

Li Tiangang shook his head. “He speaks casually. His manners… a little loose. I suspect he’s been poorly guided. I need to hear it from you.”

Zhao Bo hesitated.

“Sir… Young Master is not… bad. He’s kind-hearted. Never cruel to servants. Polite to elders. Never caused trouble. Only… once, years ago, he tried to cook something strange in the kitchen…”

“Focus on cultivation,” Li Tiangang cut in.

Zhao Bo paused. “Well… he hasn’t made any real progress…”

“None?” Li Tiangang’s voice sharpened.

“Not exactly… but…”

“Not exactly?” Li Tiangang’s face darkened. “So he’s nothing? After finally unblocking his meridians? Even if he’s behind—he has my Immortal Bloodline! He should outpace his peers! With the Combat Scripture from the Pavilion of Listening to Rain, with ancestral aid in Soul Succession—he could reach the Qian Rank! He’d have a chance to survive!”

He glared at Zhao Bo. “And yet he’s wasting his life?!”

Zhao Bo flinched. “He tries, sir…”

“Trying to play?” Li Tiangang’s gaze narrowed—cold, sharp, a warrior’s eyes still sharp from battle.

Zhao Bo shuddered.

“You’ve all spoiled him,” Li Tiangang said. “He’s arrogant. He doesn’t know his place.”

Zhao Bo stood up, bowing deeply. “Sir… it’s my fault. I failed you.”

Li Tiangang paused.

Then, quietly: “It’s not your fault. It’s… because he’s been overprotected.”

Zhao Bo lowered his head, silent.

Li Tiangang waved a hand. “You may go. Rest.”

Zhao Bo bowed again, then left.

...

The next day.

Li Hao slept late.

His father had returned—there was no reason to rush to Tan Palace Academy. He’d just be drawing in the Cold Pool or playing Go with Old Shen.

Maybe it was the dreams. Last night, he’d seen her—those eyes, soft, holding him, whispering lullabies.

Then—suddenly—a horde of Spirit Beasts swarmed.

“Young Master!”

A voice.

Li Hao jolted awake.

A young man stood by his bed.

Li Hao recognized him—the soldier who had returned with his father. Thin, sharp-eyed, about twenty-eight.

“You’re early,” Li Hao muttered.

“Sir,” the man said calmly. “Lord Father sent me. You’re to train in the front courtyard.”

His name was Yu Xuan.

Li Hao sighed. His peace was over.

He glared at the intruder. “No one enters my room without permission.”

Yu Xuan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Li Hao sat up, called for Qingzhi to bring clean clothes.

As she dressed him, the young man stood still—expressionless.

But Li Hao took his time—slow, careless, letting the maid do everything.

“You’re late,” Yu Xuan said.

Li Hao snapped. “Fine.”

He dressed himself in a few swift motions.

They left the room.

As they passed the main hall, Li Hao glanced inside—then froze.

His paintings—stacked, framed, scattered over years—were gone.

“Zhao Bo!” he called.

Zhao Bo arrived in a rush. “Young Master?”

“My paintings! Where are they?”

Li Hao’s voice cracked with anger.

Zhao Bo paled. “Lord Father saw them this morning. He ordered them moved.”

“Moved where?”

“To the woodshed…”

Li Hao’s blood boiled.

The woodshed? He’d have his paintings burned?!

Not just any paintings—some of them held his memories of her. The woman from his dreams. The one he could barely remember.

“Bring them back—now! No one touches them again!”

Zhao Bo had never seen him so furious.

“Sir, please—calm down. I’ll get them!”

But a hand stopped him.

Yu Xuan stood in front, calm, unyielding.

“Sir,” he said, “the order came from Commander-in-Chief. You should go train.”

Li Hao knew—only his father had the authority to touch his things.

But hearing it from him? That cold, obedient voice?

He felt rage build—hot, choking.

“Get out of my way!”

Yu Xuan didn’t move.

“I said—get out!”

A voice cut through the air.

“Who do you want to get out?”

Li Tiangang stood at the doorway, face dark.

Yu Xuan lowered his arm, bowed.

“Father… those paintings—”

“Apologize to Yu Xuan,” Li Tiangang said, cold.

Li Hao stared.

What?

Zhao Bo stepped forward. “Sir, Young Master is just—”

“Silence!”

Li Tiangang’s voice cracked like a whip.

Zhao Bo froze.

The man had already been furious. Seeing the room—paintings scattered, Go boards, fishing rods piled haphazardly against the pillars—had ignited his temper.

This was what his son had been doing?

Not cultivating. Not training.

Playing.

And everyone—his servants, his Brothers—had let him.

He knew Li Hao was his son. The Young Master. No one dared oppose him.

But now? He was back.

And now, he would fix this.

“Apologize,” he repeated. “Now.”

Li Hao stared at him—unfamiliar, alien.

Yesterday… we just met…

Then, a bitter laugh rose in his chest.

Yes. He didn’t know this man.

And this man didn’t know him.

He looked into his father’s eyes.

“Is it because you think I don’t cultivate?” he said. “What if I told you I do? That I’m already at a high realm?”

Li Tiangang didn’t flinch.

“Regardless of your strength,” he said, voice like iron, “Yu Xuan has fought beside me in battle. He’s slain Spirit Beasts. He’s saved lives. He’s a Human-Heaven Stage Master.”

He paused.

“A Master. And you will apologize.”

Li Hao laughed—bitter, hollow.

“A Master cannot be insulted.” What a joke.

But before he could speak—

A blur shot into the courtyard.

“Lord General! Young Master!”

Li Fu burst in, face alight with joy.

He’d ridden from Cangyu City, arriving just outside Qingzhou when he heard travelers at a roadside tea stall whispering: Xing Wuhou has returned.

He’d raced back at full speed.

“Li Fu!” Li Tiangang said, his tone softening slightly—but then tightened. “You’re rushing in like a child. Not like the disciplined man I trained.”

Li Hao glanced at him. No surprise. They’d parted only days ago.

“Years away,” Li Tiangang added, “and you’ve lost your manners?”

Li Fu froze. He bowed.

Then, eyes wide, he looked at Li Hao.

“Lord General… I sent a letter. Did you receive it?”

“Letter?” Li Tiangang frowned. “To Yanbei? When?”

“No… I sent it to Yanbei. I didn’t know you’d already left.”

Li Fu had been recovering. He’d asked about the battle in Cangyu City. Then he’d spoken to City Guardian Yue Shuhong—confirmed it.

When he learned the truth, he’d sent word first to Li Tiangang’s home.

Because the news was too great to delay.

This was the truth—the moment that would change everything.

“Doesn’t matter,” Li Fu grinned, voice trembling with excitement. “You’re back. I’ll tell you myself.”

He looked at Li Hao.

“Young Master… you’re already Fifteen Li Stage!”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end