Chapter 98: Once Vowed to Be First in the World

The news came from another Black Hall Master, who had sensed the commotion and used his Spirit Soul to investigate.

“Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Song Yufeng’s face turned ashen. His eyes widened in sudden alarm. “Where’s Yueyao? Did she go too?”

At that moment, a voice rang out from outside the Tancheng Palace. Song Yueyao stepped in just then.

Song Yufeng looked up, and his heart—previously clenched in dread—finally settled back into his chest. He exhaled sharply. “Why are you here? Tell me—did Li Hao take all those others to the Entertainment House?”

Though the mention of the “Entertainment House” felt slightly improper when speaking to his granddaughter, Song Yufeng had no time for such delicacy.

Song Yueyao’s expression darkened with quiet anger. “Yes.”

“This boy… how dare he!” Song Yufeng roared.

Song Yueyao blinked, surprised by her grandfather’s fury. “Grandfather, actually… it’s not entirely his fault.”

“What?” Song Yufeng shot her a sharp glance.

She sighed, reluctant but compelled to explain.

When she finished, Song Yufeng’s eyes bulged wider than ever. Even the nearby Black Hall Master stared, dumbfounded.

“You’re telling me… Li Hao just read a Sword Manual once… and then performed a True State-level Sword Art in front of everyone?”

“Impossible! Absolutely impossible!”

Even as he said it, Song Yufeng and the Black Hall Master couldn’t help but believe. After all, dozens of people in the White Hall had witnessed it firsthand.

Yet this was beyond belief.

Song Yufeng’s first thought was that the Sword Manual must have been leaked—Li Hao had been secretly cultivating all along, and today he’d finally revealed his hidden talent.

But then came the second thought: even if the boy had trained in secret, this was too absurd!

He was only fourteen. Had he started cultivating from infancy?

Already at the Fifteen Li Stage—a record-breaking cultivation level across the Nineteen Provinces—now he’d mastered a Superior-Level Sword Art at the True State level?

Wait.

Song Yufeng suddenly felt a chill. Something was off.

Li Hao didn’t just know one True State Sword Art.

And his own Sword Manual… maybe it wasn’t leaked at all.

After all, the Li Clan’s Pavilion of Listening to Rain housed countless sword techniques. There were countless Superior-Level Arts. Even if they’d secretly collected the Yin-Yang Reversal Sword, why would they teach it to Li Hao?

The Li Clan possessed Ultimate Grade Sword Techniques!

With limited time and energy, wouldn’t they naturally prioritize teaching Li Hao the best techniques? Why waste time on a mere Superior-Level Art?

The realization struck him like a blade. His heart clenched.

There was only one explanation.

Li Hao had truly read the manual once… and mastered it.

And not just mastered it—had reached the True State.

From what Song Yueyao said, there had been a process: the first display had been at the Perfect Level, then directly leaping to True State—skipping Supreme Perfection entirely.

Damn it… he still couldn’t accept it.

Even a Sword Saint reborn wouldn’t achieve this so effortlessly…

Song Yufeng stared blankly at the entrance of the Tancheng Palace, his mind reeling.

What kind of child had the Li Clan produced?

After a long silence, he finally snapped back to reality. He thought of the Entertainment House incident and let out a bitter chuckle.

“This boy really has nerve. Doesn’t even know his own age.”

Song Yueyao’s expression flickered.

Then Song Yufeng snapped his fingers. “Wait—did they go there without wearing their Academy Uniforms?”

It was too late to stop them now.

Besides, Li Hao’s teaching session had been so effective—its impact surpassed a year of grueling training for the students. A little break was justified.

But they couldn’t embarrass the Tancheng Palace.

“No, they didn’t,” the Black Hall Master replied.

Song Yufeng relaxed, smiling. “Well… at least the boy still has some sense.”

…

As they descended the mountain, Li Hao encountered Prince Jiang Hanxing, who had been reciting poetry.

Upon learning Li Hao was heading to the Entertainment House, the prince was stunned—then immediately hopped on the opportunity, eager to witness it firsthand.

Li Hao didn’t object. He let the prince tag along.

Yunyan Pavilion—Qingzhou City’s premier Entertainment House.

This wasn’t a place where money alone bought entertainment. It was the gathering spot for aristocratic scholars, poets, and literati.

Regular Poetry Gatherings were held here, and only those who won the top prize could meet the Pavilion’s most famous star—Hong Waner, a woman whose fame spread across the entire province.

When Li Hao and his group arrived, a Poetry Gathering was in full swing.

Entry required silver. The event revolved around reciting poems and exchanging verses with music.

But the White Hall disciples were martial cultivators—trained from childhood in combat arts. They could recite famous poems by Confucian scholars, but composing their own? Impossible.

Fortunately, Li Hao had prepared.

Since he’d promised to fulfill their wish, he wouldn’t let them leave disappointed.

“Come on, everyone—each of you, one poem. Memorize it.” Li Hao called them together.

Zhou Zheng, a poetry enthusiast, was stunned. He’d secretly prepared two poems himself—but this prodigy martial artist had his own poems?

After all, in a Poetry Gathering, originality was everything. Copying others’ work was a social disgrace.

Jiang Hanxing, who had already seen Li Hao’s poetic talent, joined in—though he was both amazed and slightly disappointed. One poem each? What could be impressive about that?

But then his eyes widened.

Li Hao never cared to show off. He didn’t act like a typical time-traveling plagiarist, dragging out one poem at a time to impress.

Instead, he pulled out entire collections—as if he were handing down a legacy.

The entire Poetry Gathering erupted.

As Li Hao’s world’s greatest masterpieces echoed through the halls of Yunyan Pavilion, the atmosphere shifted—from lively chatter to roaring excitement, then to breathless silence.

“Look—黄河之水天上来, 奔流到海不复返…” Zhou Zheng whispered, frozen in awe, feeling the overwhelming, majestic qi surge through him.

“No one supports my lofty ambition—so I’ll climb the snow-covered peaks myself!” Jiang Hanxing’s eyes blazed. He clenched his fists, as if those lines were his own soul speaking.

“The sea has no end—sky is its bank; the mountain reaches its peak—then I am the peak!” Ma Jing, whose own poetic talent was lacking, felt tears well in his eyes. Though he couldn’t write, he could feel.

These lines weren’t just poetry—they described the young man standing before them.

Of all the prodigies in the world, only this one had climbed to the summit… and now stood atop the mountain, becoming the new peak.

“Born first among men, only I am equal to Heaven in age…”

“One sword, a thousand miles of war—once I stood against a million soldiers…”

Each poem—bold, fierce, unapologetic—rang through the hall.

The disciples recited them with trembling voices, their hearts pounding.

For martial cultivators, these poems weren’t just words—they struck straight at the soul.

“In drunkenness, I light the lamp to examine my sword; in dreams, I hear the bugle call from the camps…”

Zhou Zheng, son of a martial general, leapt to his feet, trembling from head to toe.

“A great roc rises in one day with the wind—rising straight to the nine heavens!”

That bold, soaring verse lifted the spirits of countless souls. It rekindled the fire in those who had long felt lost, defeated, and stuck in the mud.

One by one, the White Hall disciples took the stage. Their poems shook the Entertainment House.

On the upper balcony, a stunning young woman in her early twenties—Hong Waner, the Pavilion’s most celebrated star—stood transfixed, listening.

Each poem—whether fierce and passionate or wild and free—sent waves of emotion crashing through her.

The Great Yu Dynasty was built on martial might. The people valued strength. Thus, poetry here was mostly war-themed, not lustful or vulgar.

Even the few romantic or sensual verses were kept for common Entertainment Houses—never allowed in the elite Yunyan Pavilion.

Hong Waner had deep knowledge of poetry. She could tell the difference between good and bad.

The poems being recited here? Even the scholars from the Hanlin Pavilion would struggle to write such works. Only a handful of truly immortal verses could match them.

She also noticed something strange: every young man who took the stage had first approached a single boy—whispering to him, then stepping forward.

That gesture—so intimate, so secretive—could not help but spark imagination.

Time flew.

As the Poetry Gathering ended, the entire Pavilion was in a daze.

The Red Dust Women were flushed with emotion. The scholars were intoxicated.

Someone let slip the truth—all the poems were written by Li Hao.

Then someone recognized him.

“Li Hao!”

The name rang out.

The Pavilion exploded.

The legend of the prodigy, paired with these dazzling, razor-sharp poems—felt like the verses had materialized before their eyes.

In the fervor, no one cared that the Tancheng Palace disciples were using Li Hao’s poems.

In fact, they were honored—the girls flocked to them, delighted to be near someone who had earned Li Hao’s favor. Even without their own poems, they were showered with affection and invitations.

The Pavilion’s manager rushed to Li Hao, bowing deeply.

Seeing the famous young master of the Li Clan was calm and kind, the man relaxed—and immediately summoned Hong Waner to accompany him.

The other disciples were each escorted by different beauties to enjoy music and art.

The manager, careful and respectful, asked Li Hao if he’d allow two of his poems to be kept at the Pavilion—“to anchor the soul of the place.”

Li Hao didn’t mind. He let the man choose.

Soon, two lines were hung outside the Pavilion’s gate:

> Remember when, as a youth, you vowed to seize the clouds—

> You once promised to be the First-Class in the world.

The manager was disappointed the poem wasn’t complete.

But she never imagined… that these two lines would one day make the Yunyan Pavilion’s fame spread across the Nineteen Provinces.

At that moment, Li Hao was already seated in Hong Waner’s private chamber, sipping wine.

“Young Master… tonight, I’m yours. Whatever you want, I’ll do it,” Hong Waner purred, her eyes lingering on the first young man in Qingzhou City.

Since Li Hao revealed his cultivation level, no one in Qingzhou’s youth could compare.

“Is that so?” Li Hao replied, unfazed. “Then peel some melon seeds for me.”

Hong Waner paused, stunned. Then she smiled, gliding over with practiced grace. She carefully peeled a seed and placed it at his lips.

Li Hao clapped his hands. As he enjoyed the snack, he reached for another drink.

…

Meanwhile, the news reached the Divine General’s Residence.

“What?!” Li Tiangang’s eyes shot open. He slammed the table so hard, the priceless piece of furniture shattered instantly.

“Rascal! How dare he!”

Furious, his face flushed red. The old suspicion returned—his son was utterly undisciplined, doing anything reckless.

Li Fu jumped in fright. “Lord—when I checked with Tancheng Palace, it seems… Young Master…”

“Never mind the reason! Find him—now!” Li Tiangang roared.

Every second wasted was another blow to the Li Clan’s honor.

Li Fu bolted out without hesitation.

Inside Yunyan Pavilion, Hong Waner’s fingers ached from peeling seeds—finally, she delivered the full meal to the young Li Clan heir.

She was both furious and humiliated.

She, a beauty adored by countless heroes, had drawn men from across the land just to glimpse her face.

And yet, this boy—this prodigy—had barely glanced at her. Instead, he’d made her do menial labor.

Her admiration for Li Hao—once strong—had vanished.

She’d even hoped to use this chance to form a bond, to one day marry into the Divine General’s Residence—even as a concubine, it would mean endless luxury.

Now, all was lost.

From that night on, no more melon seeds were ever served in the Pavilion’s upper chambers.

On the other side…

As Li Hao stepped out of the Pavilion, he ran into Fu Bo.

Seeing the old man rushing toward him, visibly nervous, Li Hao raised an eyebrow.

“Young Master! Thank the heavens—you didn’t… do anything inside, did you?” Li Fu quickly checked Li Hao’s clothes.

Li Hao couldn’t help but sigh. “Fu Bo, how old do you think I am? I’ve got a fiancée. I came here to cheer up the others. They’ve been training too hard—this was their release.”

Li Fu relaxed instantly. He trusted Li Hao, even if he worried. “Yes, Young Master. Please come back with me. The Lord is furious.”

Furious? Li Hao frowned.

He followed Li Fu back.

The disciples were no longer children. They could find their own way home.

Soon, Li Hao returned to the Mountain and River Courtyard.

Inside the courtyard, Li Tiangang sat in the main hall like a warlord, his new table now bearing only a teacup and a rattan whip.

Li Hao and Li Fu entered.

Li Fu paled. “Lord—Young Master is back. There’s a reason behind this…”

“Is there? I’d love to hear it,” Li Tiangang said coldly, his voice laced with storm.

But then he remembered the Scroll Paintings incident. He paused, voice low.

Li Hao frowned slightly.

Li Fu hurriedly explained everything.

“Ridiculous! If someone wished for you to give them a fief, would you really hand it over?” Li Tiangang’s anger flared.

Li Hao replied calmly: “It was for motivation. And it came with limits—within my means.”

“Even a city wouldn’t be too much for you… once you become a True Dragon,” Li Tiangang said, staring intently.

Li Hao met his gaze. After a long silence, he exhaled.

“‘Within my means’ is a broad term. I believe the judgment lies with me. If the request is unreasonable, I won’t agree.”

Li Tiangang raised an eyebrow. “At least you know to leave room. But have you considered the consequences of going to the Entertainment House today?”

Li Hao said, “Second Uncle once told me you all went there when you were young. Why can’t I?”

“Can you compare yourself to us?” Li Tiangang snapped inwardly—why did Second Uncle tell this child such things?

Before he could scold him further, he caught the cold glint in Li Hao’s eyes.

He froze.

His expression shifted. After a long silence, he sighed.

“Hao’er… times have changed. I’ve just learned the Universe Buddha has recalled your cousin. This moment… he’s likely preparing to face you in the True Dragon Contest.”

He continued: “They know your strength. They’ll go all out. You can’t afford a single mistake.”

Li Hao remained silent, then nodded. “I understand.”

Li Tiangang stared at him, wanting to say more—but held back.

“Until then… stay put. I promised you freedom, and I’ll keep that. But for now, just… be careful.”

Be careful.

Li Hao glanced at him. A quiet sigh escaped his lips.

When had he ever not been careful?

He’d spent years locked in the manor.

Just one trip to an Entertainment House—was that not careful?

He felt a pang of frustration.

Prejudice, once formed, was hard to break—especially from someone so close.

It was almost laughable.

He turned and left.

“This child… when will he ever grow up? Who even is he like?”

Li Tiangang watched him go, exhausted.

He wanted to make amends—but feared Li Hao would go down the wrong path.

“Master… you’ve only just returned. Don’t rush things,” Zhao Bo said, concern etched on his face.

He sensed it—the father and son were on a collision course.

Their natures were too different.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end