Chapter 88: And So What?

As Li Fu’s words settled, the courtyard seemed to fall into a hush, as if time itself had paused.

Zhao Bo slowly widened his weathered eyes, staring at Li Fu in disbelief, then swiftly turned to look at Li Hao.

Young Master Hao… is he truly at the Fifteenth Li Stage?!

Li Tiangang and Yu Xuan beside him were both stunned, their faces etched with shock. Seeing Li Fu so visibly moved, Li Tiangang knew his stern-minded brother would never exaggerate—this news was too monumental to be false. Yet, it stirred within him a wave of overwhelming joy and disbelief.

“Is it true? Hao didn’t even achieve Foundation Establishment, let alone Blood Melting—how could this be?” Li Tiangang couldn’t help but tremble with excitement.

Li Fu nodded vigorously, his voice thick with joy. “It’s real! Absolutely real! I don’t know how it happened—only Hao himself knows. Probably Second Uncle secretly helped him.”

Second Uncle…

Li Tiangang’s heart jolted.

Second Uncle was a Four Foundations Realm cultivator—a realm so rare, so powerful, that it granted one unparalleled ability: Defying Heaven to Alter Fate.

With that power, even a born wretch, a beggar, could be transformed into a prodigy of legendary stature—someone destined for greatness, a dragon among men.

Families blessed with such a cultivator could rise again even after generations of decline. But the power had a limit: it could only be used once, for a single person.

As that truth struck him, Li Tiangang felt tears welling in his eyes. His son… what virtue did he possess that he deserved such love and favor from Second Uncle?

“Good… good… excellent!” Li Tiangang repeated three times, his voice trembling at first, then regaining control. He took a deep breath of Qi, his gaze softening as he looked upon the young man before him.

“This is a momentous joy. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Li Hao looked at his father’s excited expression, but inside, there was little stir. Only a faint flicker of emotion stirred within him.

“I wanted to tell you yesterday,” he said quietly, “but you told me to rest early.”

Li Tiangang suddenly remembered their conversation from the night before—when he’d dismissed Li Hao’s talk about painting and poetry as trivial, then sent him to bed. His face flushed with embarrassment.

“Well… forget the past,” Li Tiangang smiled, though his voice still carried a hint of urgency. “When did you reach the Fifteenth Li Stage? And why didn’t you write to me all these years? Did Second Uncle forbid it?”

Li Hao raised an eyebrow. “If I’d told you, what would you have done? Come back?”

Li Tiangang froze for a moment. He met the boy’s dark, calm eyes—and for a split second, it felt as if a knife had pierced his chest.

But then, a spark of anger flared.

“At least your mother and I would have been happy for you. We’d have helped you find a master to train you properly!”

Li Hao’s lips curled slightly. “A master? Isn’t Second Uncle enough? Is my current cultivation level not satisfactory?”

Li Tiangang fell silent, speechless.

Indeed, Second Uncle was a Four Foundations Realm cultivator—far more than a mere master. But the Li Clan tradition wasn’t just about cultivation. It was about accumulating connections—the kind passed down through generations.

Each master, each mentor, each alliance built over time became a priceless legacy. These bonds might not matter in ordinary times, but in critical moments—when the clan faced ruin, when enemies rose—those connections could be the difference between survival and extinction.

“You’re being naive,” Li Tiangang shook his head, sighing. “You’re still too young to understand.”

You’re the one who’s naive, Li Hao thought, but he said nothing.

Li Fu, watching the two, suddenly sensed something off—the distance between father and son, the subtle rift in their bond.

“You’re only fourteen,” Li Tiangang continued, his voice filled with pride. “Reaching the Fifteenth Li Stage at such a young age is extraordinary. Even your Ninth Uncle didn’t achieve this so early!”

He smiled warmly at Li Hao. “Now that I’ve returned, there’s no reason to keep this hidden. Zhao Bo, go tell your aunt immediately. Announce it throughout the manor. I will declare to the entire world—Xing Wuhou’s son is a prodigy of the century!”

“I will make the world know: my son’s natural talent is unmatched in a thousand years!”

His words rang with such fervor, as if he’d finally exhaled a long-held burden. His face was radiant with joy.

Zhao Bo trembled with emotion, his lips quivering.

Years of watching Li Hao grow—so mature, so obedient, so brilliant—had only made him ache deeper. He’d often wept silently, cursing fate for denying the boy the one gift he truly deserved: cultivation talent.

And now, that final flaw was gone.

Young Master Hao—genius in talent, genius in spirit!

Tears streamed down Zhao Bo’s face as he nodded fiercely. “I’ll go at once!”

“Zhao Bo,” Li Hao called out, stopping him.

“First, have someone bring out all my paintings from the woodshed.”

Zhao Bo blinked. “Yes, sir!”

Li Tiangang snapped back to reality, but his brow furrowed. He remembered what had just happened—and his expression darkened.

“Hao,” he said, voice sharp, “you have such a staggering natural talent. Are you really going to waste it on these nonsense arts? If you’d trained under Second Uncle all these years, focused solely on cultivation, you might have already reached Master level!”

How do you know I haven’t trained? Li Hao looked at him, but he understood—no one could comprehend the truth of his inner world. He didn’t bother to explain.

Instead, he asked, “If I did as you wish—devoted myself completely to cultivation—what then?”

Li Tiangang didn’t hesitate. “The world would be stunned. People might not believe it. But the Divine General’s Residences across the realm would know. My Li Clan has produced a prodigy of the millennium!”

Li Hao stared at him. “And if I am the prodigy of the millennium… so what?”

Li Tiangang froze. Something in the boy’s tone felt… wrong.

“What do you mean, so what? What are you trying to say? Do you even know how many prodigies Emperor Yu has? How many generations of talent have risen?”

“Nineteen Provinces. Hundreds of cities in each province. Ten thousand villages. Hundred million subjects.”

“Even among the prodigies, the number is beyond counting. Thousands rise each year—like fish crossing a river. The truly elite are few, but even a single province can produce dozens. Only those who enter the Heaven and Earth Ranking List truly gain recognition.”

“And your current talent? It’s barely enough to enter that list. Your Ninth Uncle reached the Three Immortalities at nineteen—already a once-in-a-thousand-years marvel. If you reach Master level at fourteen, you’d still be the greatest prodigy of the age.”

Cultivation grew harder with each stage. Even Li Junye, who reached Master at seventeen, had once been a legend. But compared to a man who achieved Three Immortalities at nineteen? His fame paled.

Prodigies’ momentum could fade. Most Ninth-Rank Combat Body cultivators reached the Divine Travel Realm by fifteen, but not all became Heavenly Human Masters by twenty. Some didn’t even reach Master until thirty.

And the leap to Three Immortalities? That gap was vast.

Li Hao knew all this. He looked at his father, then turned away.

There was no point in arguing.

He turned to Zhao Bo. “Thank you, Zhao Bo.”

“Not at all,” Zhao Bo said quickly.

But Li Tiangang’s face darkened. Li Hao’s indifference stung—like a slap.

In Yanbei, his word was law. His command was absolute—like a bullet fired into the earth.

“No!” Li Tiangang barked, stopping Zhao Bo. Then he turned to Li Hao. “From now on, you’ll never touch those absurd arts again. And I don’t care what level you’re at, what realm you’ve reached—even if you surpass your Ninth Uncle—you will apologize to Yu Xuan!”

Yu Xuan flinched beside him. “Lord, please—Hao is young. I don’t mind.”

“It’s not acceptable!” Li Tiangang roared, his eyes flashing like a predator’s. He glared at Zhao Bo, then at Li Fu, then back at his son—his cold, piercing gaze.

“Because you’ve spoiled him! That’s why he’s so reckless!”

“Cultivation level doesn’t matter. We don’t lack prodigies!”

“Disrespecting elders—no matter how great your talent—will lead to nothing but ruin!”

Zhao Bo and Li Fu were stunned. They’d never seen the Lord this furious.

Li Fu, shocked, opened his mouth to defend Li Hao. He knew the boy’s nature—he’d never meant harm. And Yu Xuan? He’d known him for years. What had Li Hao done to deserve such punishment?

But in the military, Li Tiangang didn’t tolerate excuses. Nepotism was his greatest enemy.

“Silence!” Li Tiangang snapped at him.

For a moment, Li Fu realized—he wasn’t speaking to a brother, but to the invincible Xing Wuhou, the one who stood above ten thousand warriors.

Zhao Bo tried to speak, but the cold look in Li Tiangang’s eyes silenced him. He could only watch, worried, as Li Hao walked away.

Li Hao stood in silence, facing the stern gaze of the middle-aged man—his father’s eyes like a storm gathering.

He wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t.

Was this the moment he’d waited for, alone in the courtyard for fourteen years, gazing at the stars?

Why, then, did he feel no joy?

Yesterday, everything had been warm. Today, it was all cold.

Li Hao took a deep breath. He wasn’t a child. He suppressed the ache in his chest, met his father’s eyes, and said, “I did wrong to shout at him. He did nothing wrong—he only followed your order.”

Yu Xuan blinked, surprised. He hadn’t expected such honesty.

Li Tiangang’s anger, barely hidden, flared again—eyes blazing like a tiger’s.

“So you’re blaming me? Are you going to tell your father to leave?”

The words nearly made Li Tiangang laugh. This boy is beyond control.

Li Hao’s fists clenched slightly—but then relaxed. He turned his head, his gaze drifting to a weed growing beside the courtyard stairs.

And in that moment, he felt something.

He and that weed… were so much alike.

He breathed in deeply, then slowly exhaled.

A faint, self-mocking smile touched his lips.

“Have you ever seen my paintings?” he asked softly. “You haven’t, have you? You said Mother was gone… but I can’t even remember her face clearly. So I painted her while I still could.”

His voice was clear, light—but it struck like a blade.

Li Tiangang froze. His entire body trembled.

The paintings… the figure in them… is Qingqing?

He’d never opened those tattered scrolls. But now, the thought shattered him.

“By the time I finished painting… I’d already forgotten her face,” Li Hao continued, his eyes fixed on the weed swaying in the wind. “I only remember her eyes.”

He paused, as if lost in memory.

“So I painted only her ghost—a faint echo. I meant to give her a proper portrait when she returned… but she never came back.”

Silence fell.

Li Tiangang’s breath grew heavier. His hand, hidden in his sleeve, clenched so tightly it trembled.

Then, slowly, Li Hao returned to the present.

He turned to his father, smiled faintly.

“You said a Master must not be disrespected. Yes… but I wonder—what about my mother? Can she be disrespected too?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge.

Like a knife through the heart, the words silenced Li Tiangang. His steady frame shuddered.

Yu Xuan looked down, his expression pained. He understood now—why the boy had been so furious.

Li Fu and Zhao Bo’s eyes were wet. They looked at Li Tiangang, hearts aching.

Li Hao said nothing more. He turned and walked away.

“Those paintings… you can do whatever you want with them,” he said, his back to them.

Li Tiangang couldn’t hold back.

“Stop!” he roared.

But Li Hao didn’t stop.

He walked on.

Li Tiangang stood frozen—this was the first time his word had been defied.

And the one who defied him… was his own son.

If it were anyone else, he would have broken their legs without hesitation.

But Li Hao’s words had trapped his rage in his throat—burning, choking, then slowly fading.

His face was grim.

“Master,” Zhao Bo stammered, trying to intervene.

Li Tiangang raised a hand, silencing him. He took a long, slow breath.

“Bring out all the paintings,” he said coldly. “Clear a clean room. Arrange them properly. If a single one is damaged—military punishment for everyone.”

Zhao Bo blinked, then nodded, relief washing over him.

Li Tiangang turned to Li Fu. “Go tell your aunt. Inform her of Hao’s achievement. I will host a family banquet. I will make the entire world know!”

Li Fu, seeing the shift in his lord’s mood, exhaled silently. He bowed deeply. “I’ll go at once.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end