Chapter 96: One Step Essence 【Sixth Update】

Sun Hongdian was slightly surprised, but didn’t dwell on it. Once he released his grip, he turned to the crowd below and announced, “Everyone, this is the new Apprentice Master at the Academy—Master Li Hao, son of the Li Clan!”

Ripple!

As soon as the name Li Hao rang out, the previously bewildered, curious, and skeptical students erupted into a wave of murmurs.

For days now, the entire city had buzzed with talk of this name.

In teahouses, taverns, even brothels and inns—everywhere, people whispered about him.

In the grand arena of the world’s martial giants, perhaps he was merely a pebble dropped into still water—just enough to stir a ripple, not yet spreading far.

But here in Qingzhou City? He was already a household name.

Fourteen years old. Fifteenth Stage. Millennium’s First Wonder Talent!

A living legend—standing right before them?

Their eyes widened. They stared at Li Hao as if he were a rare treasure, a myth made flesh.

Li Hao felt a slight pang of awkwardness, but he’d expected this. He simply adjusted, forcing a calm smile.

“From now on, Master Li Hao will be teaching you,” Sun Hongdian declared loudly. “This is your one chance each year to learn from him. Treasure it. No noise. No disruption!”

Eyes gleamed across the hall. A legend—actually teaching them?

What wisdom could he share? His cultivation insights?

Though few truly believed he’d teach anything meaningful, they were all eager to see how he spoke, how he carried himself.

“Master Li, the class is in your hands,” Sun Hongdian said with a grin, turning to Li Hao before stepping back, waving once and disappearing into the corridor.

Li Hao nodded with a soft smile. Only when the man was gone did he turn to the gathering.

“Since you all already know me,” he said, “I won’t waste time introducing myself.” He glanced around. “What would you like to learn? Sword techniques? Fist arts? Movement styles?”

“Are you really going to teach swordplay?” Song Yueyao’s eyes sparkled. Most of them were sword practitioners.

Li Hao understood. Sword Saint and Blade Master—like literature and math—were the core disciplines. Over eighty percent of martial cultivators specialized in one or the other.

And the most famous combat scriptures in history were always sword manuals.

“If you want to learn, I’ll teach,” Li Hao said with a light chuckle.

“Will you teach the Pavilion of Listening to Rain style?” A bold young man asked, eyes alight with anticipation.

They were all aristocratic heirs—well-off families, here to complete their training before either carving a name in the martial world or inheriting their family’s legacy.

With a Divine Travel Realm cultivation, they were strong enough to suppress many threats. Among peers, they were formidable.

“I’m sorry,” Li Hao smiled. “The Li Clan’s secret manual isn’t shared.”

He paused, then added, “But whatever sword style your White Palace Master cultivates—yes, I can teach that.”

“You haven’t even learned it yet,” someone scoffed. “How can you teach it?”

The comment carried a hint of disbelief. Li Hao’s reputation took a slight hit.

“Now’s as good a time as any to start,” Li Hao replied calmly. “Who has a sword manual? Lend it to me.”

The request stunned the crowd.

Then came murmurs of annoyance.

This kid thinks he’s something?

He’s treating this lecture like a joke!

Their hopes, so high a moment ago, now felt hollow.

Song Yueyao frowned. She’d begun to admire him—now, his arrogance grated on her.

“Master Li,” one student offered kindly, “we’re really serious about learning.”

“Then let’s begin,” Li Hao said. “Got a manual?”

Seeing him remain so indifferent, the rest of the students lost interest.

Just point at a manual and call it teaching?

The attitude was insulting, regardless of skill.

Song Yueyao’s disappointment was clear. A genius—yes. But arrogance? Also undeniable.

The students exchanged glances, but no one spoke.

Not teaching? Fine. What’s the big deal?

So what if he’s the Young Master of the Divine General Mansion?

Of course, they didn’t say it aloud.

Li Hao’s status was too powerful. No one dared challenge him directly—especially not when they could get kicked out or worse.

Li Hao scanned the hall. He saw their expressions, and sighed inwardly.

Then his gaze settled on Song Yueyao.

“Song,” he said, “you have a sword manual, don’t you? Let me see it.”

Song Yueyao stiffened. Being called out made her uneasy—especially with so many eyes on her. She frowned.

“I didn’t bring it,” she said. “I’ve nearly perfected this style.”

“Then find me another one,” Li Hao said.

She froze. A quiet huff escaped her lips. She was about to ask her close friend Lin Feifei for help when—

“Master Li!” a voice rang out.

A youth dashed forward, handing Li Hao a scroll with a nervous grin. “I’ve got one! Ma Jing, sir!”

He beamed, clearly trying to curry favor.

Li Hao nodded.

As Ma Jing returned to his seat, a soft sigh rippled through the crowd—disgust, clearly visible.

But Ma Jing didn’t care.

This was his chance. He wasn’t about to miss it.

“Wait a moment,” Li Hao said, flipping open the manual.

Then he began reading—page after page.

The characters, the diagrams—they flowed into his mind effortlessly. With his Sword Dao insight, he grasped the essence instantly.

By the halfway point, he could already predict the next movements.

This was a Superior-Level sword manual—Yin-Yang Reversal Sword.

> [Basic Level Mastered. Acquire?]

> Acquired.

The command formed in his mind.

Instantly, a flood of knowledge surged into his consciousness.

But at his current cultivation level, it was nothing. He closed his eyes for a breath—then opened them.

All absorbed.

He glanced at his Character Panel:

Yin-Yang Reversal Sword (True State) · Yin-Yang Reversal

Yin-Yang Reversal was the essence of the sword art.

For most combat scriptures, once he understood the Dao, he could grasp their core essence.

Like the essence of Snowfall Sword Art—Avalanche.

“Come in,” Li Hao said, turning toward the door.

He hadn’t forgotten the student standing there, punished for misbehavior.

The youth had been listening from outside, ears pricked, eyes peering through the crack.

Now, hearing Li Hao call him—surprise washed over him.

He hadn’t expected to be remembered.

A warm flutter stirred in his chest.

As for learning swordplay? He didn’t care. He’d never liked martial arts.

Just born into a martial general family—forced to train, nothing more.

“Thank you, Master Li,” he said. “Zhou Zheng.”

Li Hao nodded. “Back to your seat.”

Once Zhou Zheng returned, Li Hao spoke.

“I’ll demonstrate the Perfect Level of Yin-Yang Reversal Sword. Observe closely.”

What?

The students who had already lost interest—some even considering leaving—froze.

Then, a few stifled laughs.

One demonstration? And he’s already teaching Perfect Level?

That was Superior-Level sword art.

Even a prodigy needed months—maybe years—to master it.

Now, they watched Li Hao with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

Let’s see how this “legend” handles it.

Song Yueyao’s brow furrowed.

She hadn’t expected this kind of arrogance.

But then she remembered—back in Cangyu City, they’d barely exchanged words. Just a passing glance.

She sighed inwardly, turning away.

Worthless. Just a show-off.

On stage, Li Hao didn’t wait. He reached out and summoned a sword from the weapon stand.

With a flick of his Control-Objects Power, the sword flew into his hand.

Even those who’d sneered before now blinked. Their smirks faltered.

That kind of control…

No matter how reckless the young master seemed, his cultivation was undeniable.

Li Hao held the blade casually, as if it were a brush.

He tossed the manual back to Ma Jing with a flick of his wrist—then began to move.

Yin-Yang Reversal Sword.

Each motion split into one real, one illusory—real within illusion, illusion within reality.

The transitions were seamless, the attacks unpredictable, the form complex beyond measure.

Even more intricate than Snowfall Sword Art.

Yet as Li Hao swung, his body moved like jade—fluid, graceful.

The sword’s path cut the air like a rainbow.

A flawless fusion of illusion and truth—the peak of Yin-Yang division—unfolded before their eyes.

The hall fell silent.

Even the scoffers froze.

Their grins vanished.

They stared—dumbfounded—at the dazzling dance of blades, a thousand swords dancing in one motion.

Then—silence.

Utter stillness.

Song Yueyao felt something strange. Her breath caught.

She turned—toward the stage—only to see the swordplay blossom like a peacock’s tail.

That’s…

Yin-Yang Reversal Sword.

She was stunned.

Like struck by lightning, she stood motionless.

She’d cultivated this style for years—nearly perfected it.

Yet she could never, ever replicate what she saw now.

What was real? What was illusion?

Or—were both real? Both illusion?

She couldn’t tell.

The world blurred.

When the final stroke ended, silence lingered.

Li Hao sheathed the sword.

He looked at the students.

After a pause, he broke the stillness.

“Did you learn it?”

…

…

No one answered.

They blinked, dazed.

Learned it?

You just watched it once—and ask if we learned?

We want to learn!

But—how? We can’t even remember the sequence!

“Um… Master Li… did you… really just learn this sword?” a voice finally trembled.

The question hit like thunder.

The students snapped awake.

They stared at Li Hao—eyes wide, mouths agape.

You just read the manual once… and mastered Perfect Level?

And not just Perfect—one step into it?!

Song Yueyao froze. Her lips parted. Her throat tightened.

She couldn’t speak.

Li Hao sighed.

“Our family collects many combat scriptures, yes. But the ones here at Tan Palace Academy? They’re not for sharing. We wouldn’t steal them—especially not from our peers.”

Even if we did… I wouldn’t tell you, he added silently.

The students exchanged glances.

It made sense.

Every sect had its secrets.

Stealing another’s combat scripture was a grave offense—guaranteed to bring wrath, and ostracism from the entire martial world.

“So… you didn’t steal it?” someone asked, confused.

“Then… you really learned it just now? From one look?”

“Stop overthinking it,” Li Hao said. “Recall what you saw. How much did you grasp? When you’ve absorbed it, I’ll demonstrate again—slower this time.”

The students snapped to attention.

Immediately, they began mentally replaying the scene.

The hall fell silent once more.

Li Hao, with nothing to do, turned and carried the painting board from outside into the hall.

Then, he set it up before them.

He picked up a brush.

And began painting.

What to draw?

He smiled.

Why not paint them all?

A whole hall of Divine Travel Realm cultivators—true, their realms were modest.

But a group this large? That could bring a significant experience boost.

The strange sight drew curious glances.

But no one asked.

They were too busy trying to reconstruct the swordplay in their minds.

After a few moments, Li Hao finished.

He glanced at the clock.

Half an hour had passed.

The absorption was nearly complete.

Those they couldn’t remember? Likely already forgotten.

He cleared his throat.

“I’ll demonstrate again. Watch closely.”

The students’ spirits surged.

Their eyes snapped to Li Hao—locked in place.

He picked up the sword.

And without delay—began to move.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end