Chapter 93: Li Hao's Demand

【Bonus Chapter for 'Lonely Star Soul' Alliance Leader】

The True Dragon Selection would take place in two months.

Li Tiangang relayed the news to He Jianlan, and swiftly announced it throughout the entire Li Family estate.

In an instant, the courtyards stirred with commotion.

Yet, this was no surprise. Ever since Li Wushuang had returned from her journey down the mountain, they’d known the goal was clear—vying for the True Dragon.

But now, an unexpected contender had emerged: Li Hao from the Mountain and River Courtyard. Previously, the competition had seemed destined to be between the Water Splendor Courtyard’s elite. Now, Li Hao had stepped forward, igniting a storm.

"Hmph. Liu Yuerong must’ve lost her mind," scoffed Xiao Yujing in the Linglong Courtyard.

She had no biological children of her own—only her adopted son, Li Yuanzhao. Though Li Yuanzhao possessed an Eighth-Rank Combat Body, his talent was merely solid, not exceptional. To even stand a chance at the True Dragon, one needed a Ninth-Rank Combat Body—just the bare minimum for a top-tier prodigy.

But now, Li Hao had burst onto the scene, shocking the entire realm. And since Li Yuanzhao and Li Hao were close friends, the latter’s rise could benefit the former.

Still, Xiao Yujing didn’t care much for such matters.

Inside the Water Splendor Courtyard, Liu Yuerong, though prepared, clenched her teeth in fury.

She summoned the elderly housekeeper, ordering her to draft a letter. With no other choice, she must turn to Li Qianfeng’s master—the one who stood on par with the true masters of the Qian Dao Palace.

Perhaps that Buddha-level figure could find a way.

After all, her own child was already at the Fifteenth Li Stage—just three years older than Li Hao.

...

...

Mount Wu Liang.

Fantine Pure Land Realm, within the Wuliang Spirit Realm.

Mount Wu Liang’s rules were strict and unyielding, every aspect of life—clothing, food, lodging—determined by one’s Buddha Rank. Diamond Saints dwelled in the Diamond Heart Hall, where they meditated on the Master’s Heart and cultivated toward Arhathood. Arhats resided in the Buddha Hall, receiving offerings and reverence.

And the spiritual realm—highest of all—was where the Universe Buddha himself practiced and dwelled.

The air shimmered with ethereal mist, a realm beyond the mortal world, a paradise untouched by time.

“Om Amitabha,” murmured a Bodhisattva, bowing before the Buddha. In his hand was a letter, which he silently passed through the air toward the figure above.

The Universe Buddha sat draped in saffron robes, his body aglow with radiant light. Behind him, a blazing Buddha Wheel spun, emitting a boundless, compassionate radiance.

His form was colossal—ten or more zhang tall—shaped by a secret cultivation technique of unimaginable power. In contrast, the Bodhisattva at his side, though at the Four Foundations Realm, appeared no larger than a human. He looked like an ant beneath the giant, forced to gaze upward in awe.

The letter floated before the Universe Buddha. He did not reach out to take it. Instead, it hovered before his eyes for just a moment—then dissolved into ash, consumed by his omniscient gaze.

“I have long known this news,” the Universe Buddha spoke softly. “Liu’s clan grows too impatient. Let her calm herself. Natural talent isn’t determined solely by cultivation realm. It also depends on depth of cultivation, foundation, and inner strength. The Qiankun Diamond Saint has studied the finest combat scriptures of our sect, and with the Li Clan’s ancestral techniques, he stands among the top five in his peer group.”

“When he returns, I shall grant him a Buddha Vow—ensuring he remains invincible in his realm.”

The Bodhisattva exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Buddha.”

The Universe Buddha continued, “For the past hundred years, strife has raged ceaselessly. The Fortune of Emperor Yu has waned. Now, to intervene in the Divine General’s Residence’s True Dragon contest is a reluctant necessity. As the Age of Turmoil approaches, it is time for us to descend from our sanctuaries. The salvation of all beings is upon us.”

“Amitabha,” the Bodhisattva whispered, his face filled with devotion.

...

...

As news spread that the Li Family’s True Dragon was soon to be determined, factions across the land began their quiet maneuvers.

“The True Dragon Selection hinges on two main factors,” Li Tiangang said, standing before Li Hao in the Mountain and River Courtyard. He looked at his son—his heart both eased and burdened.

“First, natural talent. Second, mental character.”

“Merit and connections matter too—but they’re mere flourishes. Secondary considerations.”

Li Hao nodded. His Second Uncle had already explained this.

The Divine General’s Residence was a supreme clan. It wasn’t just about strength. Natural talent was vital—but not enough. A prodigy with poor mental character would never last.

Impatience, arrogance, obsession—these flaws, when paired with exceptional talent, were like handing a madman the wheel of a family ship. It would only speed toward ruin.

Steadfastness, humility, diplomatic grace, composure under pressure—these were the qualities of true leadership.

In short, one must possess both outstanding talent and noble character. Only then could one be worthy of leading a great family.

Connections and merit? Just bonuses. And even those stemmed from mental character. How could someone lacking in social finesse build strong alliances?

A man who speaks ill of others, who alienates everyone, no matter how powerful, would only bring disaster if placed in charge of an entire clan.

The Li Family’s True Dragon selection wasn’t as rigorous as the Imperial Clan’s choice of heir—but it was still meticulous. Unlike small families, where an illegitimate branch might suddenly rise through chance, toppling the elders in a single stroke, such a rise rarely lasted.

More often than not, the upstart would soar high, then abandon the family entirely—leaving behind only wreckage.

That was why great families endured: the clan head bore the weight of the entire family, guiding it forward. That was the true test of mental character.

Li Tiangang looked at Li Hao. “Your natural talent I have no doubt about. But I’ve neglected your upbringing. Your character has grown careless. If you had applied yourself, your potential would be far greater.”

He paused, studying his son.

He’d said this before. Now, he was repeating it—revisiting old wounds.

Li Hao’s previous reply had been simple: So what?

Now, faced with Li Hao’s impassive expression, he sighed.

“I know we didn’t stay by your side. That was our failure. But Yanbei’s millions depend on us. If I abandoned them, what would Emperor Yu do? And what would become of the common people of Yanzhou? They would drown in blood and fire.”

“You are a son of the General’s Clan. You must understand this.”

“I understand,” Li Hao said, his voice firm. He looked straight into his father’s eyes. “I’ve never blamed you. Never.”

“His words are true,” Li Fu interjected, standing quietly beside the pavilion.

He looked at Li Hao with eyes full of pain and sorrow. To Li Tiangang, he said, “Lord, the Young Master was assassinated. You ordered me to return and protect him. I asked him—did he resent you? He didn’t. He worried about you—whether you were safe in Yanbei.”

“He never blamed you.”

Hearing this, Yu Xuan, who stood like a silent guard nearby, froze.

He stared at the boy—his eyes intense, unwavering. A strange feeling welled up inside him.

He was an orphan. He knew that ache.

Born abandoned, raised in a military camp, he’d been five or six when he first saw other children laughing with their parents. He’d felt envy, resentment, fury. In the dark of night, he’d screamed into the void: Why did you abandon me? Why give life if you wouldn’t care for it?

That anger had faded with time. He’d come to believe his parents must have had their reasons.

And now, here stood this boy—born apart from his commander-in-chief father and noble mother, yet at this age, instead of rage, he understood?

How old was he?

Watching the boy’s slender frame, Yu Xuan felt something deep within him tremble. As if his heart were cracking open.

For the first time, he truly saw this Young Master.

Hearing Li Fu’s words, Li Tiangang was stunned.

He looked into Li Hao’s eyes—so clear, so serious—and knew he wasn’t lying. With Li Fu’s testimony, a wave of unbearable emotion surged through him. His nose stung.

But he never cried. He inhaled deeply, forcing the ache down. Then, remembering Li Hao’s earlier attitude, he asked, “So… do you still harbor any resentment?”

“Yes,” Li Hao replied, still calm, still honest.

All three were taken aback. Just moments ago, they’d believed he was truthful. Now, this contradicted everything.

Li Hao took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering.

“My resentment isn’t that you never came back. It’s that you sent military reports—twenty-four of them, over fourteen years. Nearly two per year.”

“But you sent only seven family letters.”

He wasn’t a child. He knew the truth.

“If I’d been just a naive fourteen-year-old, I might’ve buried these feelings. But I chose to speak. Because only by speaking can there be a chance for change.”

“Every time a military report arrived at Changchun Courtyard, I’d go see it. I’d wait. I hoped a family letter would come with it. Seventeen times, I was disappointed.”

“Madam Da made up seventeen letters to comfort me. She thought I didn’t know. But I knew—just by the tone.”

“I don’t need you to come back, rushing across thousands of miles just to see me. But I don’t understand… why, when you could write a letter, you never included one?”

“Don’t you care how I live? Whether I’ve learned to chew food properly? Whether I’ve been bullied? Whether I’ve been hurt? Whether I’m happy?”

At these words, the long-buried sorrow in Li Hao’s eyes finally broke through.

He carried the bloodline of this man. He had named him father.

Fourteen years apart couldn’t forge deep affection—but it did leave a hollow ache.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Li Fu stood frozen, his body trembling. He’d been by Li Hao’s side for years. He’d seen the Elder Lady’s forced smiles, her strained eyes. He knew she’d fabricated those letters.

But he never thought Li Hao had noticed.

And every time Li Hao returned—grinning, cheerful—was he pretending? To spare her feelings?

The hardened warrior, who’d never wept in battle, now felt tears threatening.

Li Tiangang and Yu Xuan stared at Li Hao, their expressions complex. Li Tiangang had no words. The boy’s honesty had stripped him bare.

He wanted to say the frontier wars were endless, too urgent to spare time for letters.

But… was that excuse enough?

Could he not spare even a few moments to write?

Could he not send a family letter with a military report?

Only one reason came to mind: he had simply forgotten his son.

When had that started?

He couldn’t remember. Maybe after learning Li Hao couldn’t establish foundations or integrate bloodline. Maybe the endless war had drained him, leaving no room for family.

Or… perhaps he’d simply never grown used to having a son. He’d left at birth, and the absence had become habit.

But could he admit that? As a father?

The worst part? He barely remembered the seven letters he had sent. He only recalled them when his wife reminded him.

At that moment, Li Tiangang’s face paled. For the first time, he saw the truth: the man who conquered battlefields was utterly defeated in the role of father.

“Hao’er…” Li Tiangang looked at the boy—so young, yet so clear-eyed. He couldn’t meet his gaze. His voice cracked.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Hearing those words—so raw, so sincere—Li Hao’s cold heart trembled, just slightly.

He sighed inwardly. Sorry doesn’t fix everything.

Some wounds couldn’t be healed.

But he reminded himself: It’s okay. Things take time.

He would accept the apology. But the ache would remain. Perhaps that was life.

Li Fu and Yu Xuan stood silently, hearts aching for the boy’s quiet strength. They grieved not just for him—but for the cost of war, which had not only claimed countless soldiers, but also stolen the childhood of a child far from home.

After a long silence, Li Tiangang regained his composure. He inhaled deeply and said, “I’ve missed fourteen years of your life. I will make it up to you.”

“Whatever you want, I will give it to you.”

Li Hao exhaled. Then, softly, he said:

“I just… want more freedom.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end