Chapter 92: The True Dragon Contest [Second Update]

“Hao’er,”

Seeing Li Hao, Li Tiangang’s face broke into a warm smile. “Come. Follow me to the Ancestral Hall to pay respects to the Ancestral Spirits.”

“Alright,” Li Hao replied, nodding.

After leaving the Mountain and River Courtyard, the two ascended into the sky through mastery of flight, one ahead of the other, making their way toward the innermost depths of the Divine General’s Residence.

Before the ancestral hall nestled on the hillside, Li Tiangang in his white robes and Li Hao soared down together, landing gracefully on the open plaza outside the hall. Then, they walked side by side toward the grand, imposing structure—the ancestral shrine that bore witness to the Li Clan’s thousand-year glory.

“Fifth Elder!”

Li Hao spotted Fifth Elder Li Qingzheng standing beside the hall’s entrance and called out immediately.

Hearing the voice, Li Tiangang—whose expression had been solemn—flickered with slight unease. His brows furrowed. He glanced at Li Hao, who had already darted ahead, racing toward the ancestral hall to greet his uncle.

“Ah, it’s Hao’er,”

Li Qingzheng turned, his eyes lighting up with genuine delight. “What brings you here? Didn’t expect to see you.”

Then his gaze shifted behind Li Hao, taking in the towering figure of Li Tiangang.

“Hmm. The Heavenly Pole has returned as well.”

“You’re in trouble, Fifth Elder,” Li Hao glanced at the Go board before him, grinning. “Black’s about to lose again.”

Li Qingzheng bared his teeth slightly. “Don’t go spouting nonsense. The game’s not over yet.”

At that moment, Li Tiangang approached. His expression was solemn and respectful, and he bowed slightly.

“Fifth Uncle, how have you been lately? Is your body well?”

Li Qingzheng didn’t bother with Li Hao’s cheeky commentary anymore. He looked up at Li Tiangang and chuckled.

“More than a decade has passed. You’ve grown quite sturdy, haven’t you? And why the beard? How was Yanbei? Hard, I suppose?”

“Fine,” Li Tiangang replied with a smile. “Just a bit of dust and wind—something I’ve gotten used to. In the frontier, we’re always on the move. No time to clean up, so I just let it grow.”

Li Hao glanced up at him. Indeed, compared to the hazy memory of his father as a tall, handsome youth, the man before him now bore the weathered look of a middle-aged man with a beard—his once-youthful frame now tempered by years of war.

A strange sensation stirred within Li Hao. He realized with quiet surprise that he hadn’t truly cared for his father as much as he should have.

“You’ve grown up, that’s for sure,” Li Qingzheng said with a warm chuckle, his eyes soft with nostalgia. “No longer the mischievous boy you used to be.”

The young man had matured. And so had they.

Though their realm allowed them long lifespans, human life was different from that of the Demon Clan. Demons lived like creatures in hibernation—fighting only to hunt, to fill their bellies.

But humans? Most lived for one thing: human ties.

Love, sorrow, loyalty, desire—these emotions fueled their passions, drove them to war, to justice, to fame. And with every battle, wounds piled upon old wounds. Some never healed.

And so, even with longevity, their lives shortened.

To live long? It was simple—stay within the realm, enjoy wealth and comfort, avoid weapons, live like a living Buddha. Then one could enjoy centuries, even millennia, in peace.

But to remain unshaken in the heart of this endless vortex of intrigue and power for hundreds of years? That was no easy feat.

Take a neighbor you’ve known for years, who shares vegetables and eggs with you. One day, he’s wronged by some villain. If you can’t look away, you’ll be dragged in.

If you do look away, your conscience may suffer.

Centuries of such trials—what a burden.

“After all, he’s a father now,” Li Tiangang said with a faint smile, his eyes holding a flicker of memory. But it vanished quickly, buried beneath layers of composure.

Time had worn down even the softest heart, grinding it into something hard and guarded.

“Fifth Uncle,” Li Tiangang resumed, turning serious. “I’ve brought Hao’er to pay respects to the Ancestral Spirits. And I’ve come to seek their guidance on this generation’s True Dragon succession.”

Li Qingzheng nodded, already anticipating the reason for his visit. His gaze softened as it fell upon Li Hao.

“You’re a prodigy, Hao’er,” he said warmly. “Your natural talent is unmatched. You’ve surpassed even your ninth brother. In all our clan’s history, you’re the fastest to reach the Fifteenth Li Stage—breaking records.”

“Your brother Junye was the True Dragon of your generation. Tragically, he passed too soon. You took over in his place.”

“But Hao’er… this generation? You’re in a league of your own. You’re far ahead of everyone else. No one even comes close.”

Hearing such praise, Li Tiangang’s face lit up.

Indeed, his son’s talent was nothing short of extraordinary.

And that pride—deep and quiet—welled up within him.

“Go ahead,” Li Qingzheng smiled.

Li Tiangang bowed slightly, then turned and led Li Hao to the prayer cushion before the ancestral hall.

“Li Clan, 107th generation descendant, Li Tiangang, humbly pays respects to our ancestors!”

“Li Clan, 108th generation descendant, Li Hao, humbly pays respects to our ancestors!”

Father and son knelt together, bowing deeply.

At that moment, the ancestral tablets within the hall trembled faintly, glowing with a soft light. Spirits began to rise from them—ethereal, shimmering figures.

Li Hao lifted his head after the bow. He hadn’t paid close attention last time, but now, he noticed: though many ancestors were honored with radiant heroic souls, several tablets remained dim, their spirits absent.

One of them, nearest to him, bore a familiar name:

Li Clan, 107th generation descendant, Li Junye — Spirit Tablet

To the left: Rank Title — Marquis of National Protection

To the right: Military Position — Supreme General of the Heavenly Mandate

This was Ninth Uncle’s tablet. Yet no spirit appeared.

Other ancestors followed the same pattern—rank titles and military posts flanking their names. A few had merit inscriptions. Only a rare few bore only a title, no military service, with a eulogy poem written on the other side.

For ordinary families, ancestral tablets were far simpler—just a single tablet inscribed with “Ancestral Tablets of All Generations,” lumping all ancestors together in one.

Because most commoners were scattered by war and hardship. Genealogies were lost over time. They had no choice.

Only true clan families preserved complete lineages, meticulously recording each generation.

Only they could claim such distinction.

“Heavenly Pole,” a light chuckle came from nearby, “heard you’ve been fighting spirit beasts in Yanbei. How many have you slain?”

Li Tiangang looked up. It was Third Uncle Li Xuanyin.

His heroic soul still bore the vigor of youth—barely thirty, handsome, radiant as jade.

Li Tiangang’s eyes flickered with emotion.

In his youth, Third Uncle had favored him above all.

But fate had taken him too soon.

The elder generation had been six brothers. Three had fallen in battle. Only Second Uncle, Fifth Uncle, and the long-absent Fourth Uncle remained.

His father and Sixth Uncle were both gone.

And their heroic souls—still trapped in the Mehe River, unable to return.

For a hundred years, demon disasters had ravaged the border. The garrisons had suffered heavy losses. Rescue was impossible.

Even if they could spare the strength, it would be futile.

The Mehe River was a Youdu-level rift. To free the souls, the entire realm would need to be completed.

Even a Four Foundations Realm cultivator would find that nearly impossible.

Only a united effort of several top-tier masters might stand a chance.

“Nephew greets Third Uncle,” Li Tiangang said, bowing formally.

“Almost all demons crossing Yan Province have been wiped out,” Li Tiangang replied. “Cleaned up.”

“Excellent!” Li Xuanyin laughed heartily. He despised demons more than anything—his beloved had died at their hands.

Their blood had soaked his soul.

“Where’s Qingqing? Why didn’t you bring her?” Li Xuanyin asked.

Li Tiangang’s expression darkened slightly. “She’s gone.”

Gone…

Li Xuanyin paused, about to press further—then noticed Li Hao beside him. He stopped, his spirit energy flaring as he sent a mental transmission:

“Did she… leave?”

Li Tiangang’s face remained calm. “Yes.”

Li Xuanyin’s expression softened with regret. He’d liked Qingqing—she was strong-willed, noble, and of high status. Back then, he’d been the first to speak in favor.

“Rascal grandson, you’ve got no end to your small talk. Aren’t you here for business?”

A sharp voice boomed from above.

Li Xuanyin flinched, cringing. He turned to see his own father—Grandfather—hovering in spirit form.

“Father,” Li Xuanyin stammered, “Heavenly Pole’s here, and so is his son. Give me a little face, will you?”

“Don’t you dare,” the Grandfather snapped. “We’ve just awakened—each awakening drains spirit energy. You’re not going to waste it like this. You want to drain the ancestors too? I’ll kick your ass!”

“Father…” Li Xuanyin slumped, looking utterly sheepish.

Li Hao stared, wide-eyed.

Just moments ago, Third Uncle had been the picture of dignity and charm. Now he was being scolded like a child.

Oh, right—son, not grandson.

But this Great-Grandfather had a real temper.

“Who’s yelling?” another voice cut in.

A white-haired phantom elder, the Great-Great Grandfather, hovered above. “You’re the one with the loud mouth. I’ve been awake for less than a breath. You’re already exhausting me.”

Li Xuanyin’s father flinched, then turned to glare at his son.

Li Xuanyin turned pale, forcing a nervous smile at Li Tiangang. He dared not speak.

Li Hao nearly burst out laughing.

More than a hundred generations of ancestors gathered—what a spectacle!

The Li Clan had risen under the Former Emperor, built a thousand-year aristocratic lineage.

But “a thousand years” was just a starting point. The clan was over three thousand years old—among the oldest of the Five Divine Generals’ fiefs.

The Great Yu Dynasty had lasted over three and a half centuries.

Now, it was nearing its twilight.

It was a pity that awakening the ancestral spirits drained so much spirit energy.

If only I could bring out a Mahjong set one day…

Li Hao thought, grinning at the image.

Imagine the chaos—

“Rascal grandson, you dare cheat your own grandfather?”

“Perfect hand? You even self-draw from the ancestor’s tiles? I’ll beat you to pulp!”

“Pong me? Help! Who’s this little rascal’s father? Come settle this!”

The thought made Li Hao’s lips twitch.

“Enough,” a voice rang out from above.

An ancestral spirit spoke.

Li Tiangang bowed respectfully. “Heavenly Pole has come today to seek the ancestors’ judgment on the True Dragon succession.”

“Begin,” said one ancestral spirit. “Tell us of this generation.”

Li Tiangang nodded, then recounted what he’d learned from his sister-in-law over the past few days.

“So there are few candidates with potential,” one spirit mused. “But your son—his talent is beyond extraordinary. Stronger than any of us at our prime. One of him could replace several.”

“No real doubt here,” another added. “No need to drag this out. He’s already in cultivation.”

“But we can’t just hand it to him,” said a third. “We must test his character. Others must respect the choice. The selection process remains—only we’ll move it up. Two months from now. Gives everyone time to prepare.”

After a brief, swift discussion, the decision was made.

Li Tiangang bowed again, deeply.

Li Hao followed suit, imitating his father.

As they turned to leave, a voice echoed from several generations back:

“Boy… watch your son closely. Don’t let him become the next Junye.”

Li Tiangang nodded swiftly.

The other ancestral spirits gradually faded, their light dimming into stillness.

“Let’s go,” Li Tiangang said, gesturing for Li Hao to follow.

Li Hao looked back at Fifth Elder.

“Can I stay here a little longer? Just to play Go with Fifth Elder?”

Li Tiangang paused, frowning. “Fifth Elder has no time for games. The True Dragon contest is in two months. You’ve still much to prepare. Even if your talent is unmatched, you can’t afford to lag in other areas. Or else people will whisper behind your back.”

Li Qingzheng chuckled. “Hao’er’s talent? No one dares argue. Heavenly Pole, don’t overthink it. But I won’t keep him. You’ve just returned. Spend time together.”

Li Tiangang nodded, bowing once more in farewell.

Li Hao sighed, then waved to Fifth Elder.

“Well then, Fifth Elder, I’ll come back next time.”

“Go on, go on,” Li Qingzheng laughed, waving him off.

The two figures slowly moved away, leaving the ancestral hall in silence.

Inside, only the endless rows of quiet tablets remained.

And before Li Qingzheng, a lone Go board—empty save for one white stone.

After a long pause, his gaze returned to the board.

He reached out, picked up a white stone, and placed it deliberately.

“Your turn.”

Moments later, he reached into the black stone box, picked up a piece, and placed it down with quiet contemplation.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end