Chapter 99: Master's Heart

Time passed swiftly.

Since returning from the Entertainment House, Li Hao had been confined within the family estate by Li Tiangang, forbidden from wandering freely. The two had exchanged words over it—father and son—before finally reaching a compromise: Li Hao would stay within the courtyard, but in return, he would not be interfered with in anything he chose to do. Li Tiangang agreed.

No longer painting every day, Li Hao spent his time mostly at the Pavilion of Listening to Rain—except when he went to play chess with Fifth Elder. There, amid the gentle patter of rain on the eaves, he immersed himself in the countless Combat Scriptures stored within.

The library was vast beyond measure. Simply reading through all the texts would take a lifetime of nonstop study—let alone attempting to master them. Originally, Li Hao had focused on advanced cultivation techniques, skipping the fundamentals. But now, he began at the very bottom, starting from the most basic principles.

With his Sixth Level of Physical Dao cultivation, he should have been able to break through into the Human-Heaven Stage. Yet, he remained stuck. He decided to first seek the truth of the Master’s Heart—before advancing further.

But as easy as it sounded, the path was far from simple.

What was a Master? One who could found a sect, forge their own path. No one could teach a Master how to be a Master. Not even the Three Immortals could guide them. Though their realms were higher, they could only share their own cultivation experiences—not the exact steps to follow.

Similarly, once one reached the Heavenly Human Master Stage, every step forward must be walked alone. Without Scripture to guide, without a teacher to instruct—only drawing from examples, deep contemplation, and realization could lead the way.

“My own path of martial cultivation…”

Li Hao sat in the Pavilion of Listening to Rain, cradling a book titled Detailed Explanation of Basic Martial Arts. His eyes flickered with thought.

He had once asked Second Uncle how one could achieve Contemplation and Realization of the Master’s Heart. The answer came in three forms:

First, the trials of the worldly realm—enduring purification through life’s hardships, seeking one’s martial heart through suffering.

Second, walking the edge of life and death. Facing ultimate terror, a sudden flash of enlightenment could ignite, propelling one forward in an instant.

Third, the most gradual path—relying on personal insight. Start from the most basic martial techniques, where the essence isn’t obscured by complexity.

Why begin at the foundation? Because the higher the cultivation text, the more mystical and intricate its techniques became. In the process, the true Essential Origin—the core of martial truth—was easily lost in the dazzling spectacle of flashy forms.

It was like a stone.

Left on the ground, it’s trampled by thousands, scorned and ignored. But placed on a table, especially in a Buddha Hall, it becomes revered—worshipped by countless devotees. Yet, at heart, it remains just a stone.

Now, Li Hao turned the pages of General Principles of Martial Arts, a compilation of basic techniques: swords, spears, staffs, fists, movement styles—simple, raw, and unadorned.

He flipped through them aimlessly, not forcing any revelation. It was like passing time, a quiet pastime.

A month passed.

In that time, Li Hao read countless books—not just martial arts, but strange tales, legends of odd beings, and biographies of past Masters. Their paths were wildly different. Some cultivated underhanded styles, using tricks and poison, eye-gouging, sand-dropping—every move designed to be as treacherous as possible. Yet they refined these vile techniques into a coherent, deadly sequence—a complete Combat Scripture—and founded their own sects.

Others embraced brute force—head-on, relentless, no tricks, just raw power and courage.

Still others specialized in agility, lightness, and grace—movement styles that danced like wind through reeds.

For Li Hao, creating his own techniques wasn’t hard. With six levels of insight into Sword Dao and Fist Path, he could effortlessly devise new styles, even blend two together.

But technique was form. The heart was not yet shaped.

Most cultivators entered the Master realm by first establishing their heart, then refining their techniques accordingly. Li Hao was doing the opposite.

“Where is my heart?”

He murmured to himself.

Too many Combat Scriptures had filled his mind—so many that now, his thoughts felt dizzy, scattered. His spirit unsettled. Dazzled by the flowers, he could not see the path.

---

That day, Li Hao arrived at the Pavilion of Listening to Rain as usual.

But barely had he sat down when he was summoned back to the Mountain and River Courtyard—something had come up.

When he returned, he found the main hall bustling with presence. Besides Father Li Tiangang, seated calmly at the opposite end of the table, was a young girl.

She faced the front, back turned to the door. Dressed in dark purple robes, she radiated a mysterious aura—like a fragrant, rare orchid blooming in the night.

Even from behind, her posture exuded youthful vitality.

As they spoke, Li Tiangang’s face broke into a rare, warm smile. His gaze was gentle, almost tender.

Li Hao paused at the doorway, remembering the etiquette he’d been forced to learn this month. Instead of barging in, he stood still and called out.

Li Tiangang turned, and so did the girl.

Eyebrows like distant mountains. Eyes bright as clear mountain streams. A nose like jade, teeth like pearls. Her small face glowed faintly, skin as white as alabaster.

Li Hao froze for a moment—then widened his eyes.

“Xue’er?”

“Hao Gege.”

The girl recognized him instantly. Memories flooded back. She smiled brightly, her voice clear and sweet.

Li Hao’s heart leapt. He stepped forward, staring at her in disbelief. The little girl who used to tag along behind him—now a young lady.

Eight years had passed. The once-crying child had grown into a beauty so delicate, so perfectly sculpted, it seemed as if she’d been molded by hand.

“You’ve grown so much,” he blurted, a foolish, heartfelt remark.

She was Bian Ruxue.

She rose from her chair with elegant grace, smiling. “Hao Gege, you’ve grown too.”

“Of course.” Li Hao grinned. “Why didn’t you say you were coming back? Have you eaten? Let me tell you—I’ve become a master chef. In a few months, I’ll have you fat as a pig!”

Bian Ruxue blushed. “You’re still such a joker.”

“Who else would tease you? You used to cry over everything.”

“I’m not a dog,” she shot back, laughing.

Li Hao burst into laughter. Then, more seriously: “How’s training up there? Did anyone give you trouble?”

She shook her head. “Master, Senior Brother, and Senior Sister have all been kind to me. No one bothered me.”

“Good.” He smiled. “How about you? How’ve you been?”

She studied him, her eyes soft. “You’ve done well, I hope?”

Li Hao grinned, stretching his arms. “Of course! Who do you think I am? I’m the one who欺负 others, not the one being欺负. I eat, I drink, I’m happy every day!”

Li Tiangang’s brow twitched slightly. He sighed inwardly.

Bian Ruxue looked at him, then softly said, “Hao Gege, don’t joke.”

Li Tiangang’s expression hardened. “Hao’er, be serious. Xue’er has just returned. You’re not to tease her.”

“Fine, fine.” Li Hao chuckled, hands raised in surrender.

Bian Ruxue turned to Li Tiangang. “Uncle, Hao Gege never欺负 me.”

Li Tiangang smiled. “Xue’er, you’re too soft-hearted. Don’t worry. Now that I’m back, if he ever dares to trouble you, come straight to me. I’ll settle it.”

“Father entrusted you to me long ago. I promised I’d protect you. No one in the Li Clan will ever hurt you.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” She bowed slightly, then turned to Li Hao. But her gaze caught something—his smile had faded.

She didn’t question it. Instead, she said, “Uncle, I’d like to go out with Hao Gege. Just the two of us. We haven’t seen each other in so long.”

“Go ahead,” Li Tiangang said, smiling. “Enjoy yourselves.”

She bowed again, then turned to Li Hao. “Hao Gege, let’s go. It’s been ages. Will you show me around the city?”

Li Hao nodded. Then, remembering his father’s presence, he glanced up. “I’m taking Xue’er out?”

Li Tiangang nodded. “With Xue’er by your side, I’m at ease. Spend these days with her. Enjoy yourselves.”

Li Hao’s lips twitched. Then he reached out and took her hand.

“Come on. I’ll show you Qingzhou City—every delicious snack, every hidden gem. I know them all.”

Her small hand trembled slightly at the touch, as if startled—but quickly relaxed, letting him lead.

As they walked out, Li Tiangang sighed softly. “Hao’er has lived without us these years, but he’s done well. Only… he lacks discipline. Too wild.”

Zhao Bo opened his mouth slightly, then closed it.

Li Tiangang’s expression softened. “But Xue’er is polite, thoughtful. With her by his side, she’ll keep him in check. I can rest easy. That boy finding her… he’s truly blessed with fortune.”

---

Outside the Divine General’s Residence, Li Hao led the girl toward the bustling streets.

“Hao Gege,” she said, still holding his hand, “I just learned Uncle returned not long ago.”

She glanced at him, cheeks faintly pink. “After I left… were you really alone?”

Li Hao smiled. “You’re still so silly. The Mountain and River Courtyard is huge. Hundreds of servants, maids, guards—how could I be alone?”

“But they’re not… real company,” she murmured. “You wouldn’t talk to them about your heart.”

“Then I won’t,” he said with a shrug.

She fell silent.

“Don’t you get lonely?” she asked softly.

“Not really. I’ve gotten used to it.”

He stopped at a sugar painting stall.

“Want some sugar? It’s sweet.”

She shook her head. “Hao Gege, I’m not a child anymore.”

“Fourteen and you’re already grown? Wait till you’re twenty—then you’ll be ancient.”

Seeing she wasn’t interested, he moved on.

He bought her a tiny iron frog from a toy stand—a clever device from the Qianji Sect. Press it once, and it bounced forward again and again.

They wandered the market, chatting. Li Hao asked about her life on the mountain. She asked about his days in the courtyard.

By mealtime, he found a modest inn. They sat down, eating and talking.

Eight years apart. So much to say.

At first, it felt awkward. But gradually, Li Hao began to feel the old warmth—the same ease he’d once known as a child.

“When did you come down?” he asked.

“One month ago.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then why only now?”

“There was an anomaly. A Me River had seeped into the world, destroying an entire village. I went to investigate.”

Li Hao nodded. “And?”

“I tried again and again. I managed to destroy it—but couldn’t complete the realm.”

Li Hao laughed. “Destroying it is already impressive. At least it’s gone for now.”

Bian Ruxue sighed. “I suppose.”

He noticed her side sword—always at her hip.

“How’s your sword training with Sword Saint?”

She hesitated. Then, quietly: “It’s… okay.”

Li Hao smirked. “You’re not happy with it, are you? You look down when you talk about it.”

She shook her head, then set the sword aside. “Hao Gege, don’t ask about sword stuff. I came back and heard you’re about to become the Li Clan’s True Dragon. I’ve heard there’s another contender. Do you think you can win?”

“Do you think I can?”

She looked at him—calm, confident, even playful.

“I believe in you.”

“I believe I can too.” He smiled, and pushed a dish toward her.

“By the way,” she added, “I saw many important figures heading toward Qingzhou. The True Dragon Contest… it’s not just about strength. Connections matter.”

She leaned in. “Hao Gege, should I call Master and the others to support you?”

Li Hao waved it off. “Connections? That’s just a small detail. The Li Clan’s True Dragon isn’t decided by outsiders.”

She thought about it. Then nodded. “Alright. If you need anything, just tell me.”

“Actually…” He paused. “There is one thing.”

“What?”

“I’m full.” He belched softly, then leaned back, relaxed. “You clean up the rest. Don’t waste food.”

Bian Ruxue stared, stunned. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end