Chapter 101: Playing the First Move Across the World

Li Hao carried food and drink as he retraced his steps.

As he passed through the bustling district, lanterns had already lit up along the streets.

The streets were crowded with pedestrians; retainers led tall horses, and the wheels of the carriages behind them rolled steadily, appearing utterly ordinary.

Even the horse handlers were at the Soul Continuation realm—truly lively…

Li Hao smiled faintly.

With the Li family’s selection of the True Dragon approaching, Qingzhou City had already become a cauldron of hidden currents.

In recent days, he had seen many figures dressed in attire from other provinces streaming into the city.

While dining at taverns, he overheard constant discussions on the matter, even rumors that a high-ranking official of the third rank had come to Qingzhou to cheer on his nephew…

According to Li Hao’s knowledge, his mother seemed to have no clan relatives.

His stepmother said his mother was born into a minor family, which was later wiped out by demons; he met his father, Li Tiangang, who came to their aid, and the two eventually met, falling into a happy union.

These figures rushing to Qingzhou clearly came from the second wife, who still refused to give up…

That suits me fine.

Li Hao smiled lightly, unconcerned, silently counting the days, eagerly anticipating that day’s arrival.

Passing by a lively bridge embankment, Li Hao noticed people playing go and drifted over to watch for a moment.

It was already late to return home, so there was no rush.

“Don’t push!”

“You’re just a kid—why are you shoving?”

Those with time to watch or play go were mostly middle-aged or elderly; besides Li Hao, only two young men in their early thirties were present.

When he finally squeezed to the front of the board, he saw the game had reached the middle stage—and the outcome was already decided.

Li Hao glanced quickly and knew the white stones were going to lose.

Though the white stones had formed a coiling dragon, their head and tail were trapped with no escape.

Unless the white stones had the audacity to spiral and bite off a limb of the black stones, they had little chance of winning.

But to be cornered and crushed step by step like this, they had clearly lost their nerve and could never muster such boldness.

Li Hao shook his head slightly and glanced at the player holding the black stones.

The opponent was an elderly man with a ruddy complexion and white hair and beard, now smiling gently as he swayed his folding fan, stirring a breeze of twilight.

He waited calmly for his opponent to surrender.

“I lose.”

The white stones were returned to the box; the old man before Li Hao slumped in defeat.

“Ah, what a pity.”

“Tsk tsk, if only he’d played there earlier, there might’ve been hope.”

“Nonsense, it was clearly here that he should’ve played…”

“I still feel we could’ve kept playing—why surrender so soon?”

The onlookers, who had been frowning in silence, now began murmuring—some lamented the loss, others criticized the earlier missteps, and some simply didn’t understand, thinking the surrender came far too hastily.

Skill in go varies; perception differs accordingly.

But the board was set; the game was over.

As they debated, a carriage and horses suddenly crossed the bridge.

Seeing the crowd gathered by the bridge, the lead coachman bellowed: “Get out of the way! All of you! Why are you blocking the road?”

His arrogant tone angered many, but when they saw the dragon-blood warhorses, their faces paled and they hastily scattered, afraid to obstruct.

Quickly, the crowd parted, and the carriage rolled forward.

The carriage spotted the go board and snapped: “Get lost, get lost!”

Those who had moved aside whispered among themselves: the coachman, having bowed and scraped for his master for so long, now abused his power—utterly unreasonable.

Though furious, they were outmatched; those around the board all stepped back, unwilling to remain there.

Even though,

they were in the right.

In an instant, only Li Hao and the old black-stone player remained.

And behind the old man, two young men in their thirties.

The old black-stone player still gently swayed his fan, his gaze fixed on the willows stirred by the evening breeze—as if the noise had never reached his ears.

Behind him, the two young men’s eyes flickered with cold killing intent; one turned his head and stared coldly at the approaching coachman.

“What are you looking at?” the coachman roared, sensing the remaining few carried an air of distinction, perhaps with some background—but even so, he remained utterly uncivil.

In Great Yu, who could rival his master’s influence?

“If you don’t want your families ruined, get far away. Do you know who’s sitting behind me?”

One of the young men suddenly stepped forward, appearing before the coachman as if teleporting, and slapped him hard.

The coachman’s head snapped sideways—his neck snapped, and he died instantly.

Those previously driven away gasped in shock.

Some secretly rejoiced: evil met its due, justice served.

Others thought: though the coachman was cruel, he didn’t deserve death.

They felt pity for him.

But the young man didn’t even glance at the corpse; he lifted the carriage curtain and stepped inside.

Inside, a plump, richly dressed old man sat upright, startled by the sudden intrusion.

There were women inside too—they screamed, wanting to shout, but the young man’s icy gaze forced them into pale silence, as if opening their mouths would mean immediate strangulation.

“Slap yourself. Kneel. Then leave.”

The young man spoke exactly eight words.

The fat old man trembled with rage: “Do you know who I am? I know the Prince of Yan! I—”

“Perhaps someone stands above your head.”

The young man cut him off coldly: “But above our master’s head, there is no one.”

“Say one more word—you won’t leave alive.”

A chilling aura of killing intent filled the carriage; the women trembled, too terrified even to cry.

The old man’s face turned purple with humiliation; even with immense power, he was now alone against the world—when a common man rages, blood splashes five paces; princes and generals are no different.

He could only grit his teeth, slapped his own face, then knelt, swallowing his shame.

Seeing this, the young man stepped back from the carriage and casually slapped the dragon-blood warhorse’s rump.

The horse, normally fierce and untrainable, reared in fright and galloped wildly, causing passersby to scream.

But with no rider, it soon veered toward the river, charging blindly into the water—dragging the carriage along with it.

A loud splash drew the attention of many from afar.

The young man, as if nothing had happened, quietly returned to the old black-stone player’s side, his expression calm—as if he had never moved.

The old black-stone player seemed slightly dispirited, his gaze returning from the river. He sighed: “What a pity for this river of autumn water.”

He rose to leave.

But as his eyes swept past, he noticed a boy standing still, picking up the white stones from the box.

Throughout, Li Hao had not once glanced at the arrogant coachman or the carriage.

In Qingzhou City, he owed no one his deference.

Unless, of course, inside that mansion.

Now, he picked up the white stones—one, two, three…

He played as if for his own amusement, placing the stones one by one in a single spot, forming lines and shaping a pattern.

The pattern became a dragon’s claw, tearing a bloody gap through the black stones’ formation.

He did not intend to continue the game—the outcome was already decided; this was not his match.

He simply could not bear to witness such suffocating injustice today.

So he added one stroke.

The old black-stone player raised an eyebrow, glanced at the board—and suddenly froze.

The two young men behind him, dressed in plain clothes, changed expression; the one who had struck the coachman moved to confront Li Hao, but the old man blocked him with his open fan.

“Young friend, do you understand go?”

The old man smiled.

“A little.”

Li Hao finished placing the stones and felt somewhat relieved.

“Your placement is exquisite—and full of youthful spirit. Excellent!” the old man praised.

“Youth has its own wildness.”

Li Hao said coolly: “Forgive me, old sir.”

The old black-stone player murmured Li Hao’s words softly, then smiled broadly: “Since you understand go, why not sit and play a game with me?”

Li Hao looked at the board, thought for a moment: “Alright.”

All the onlookers had left; beneath the weeping willows, only the four of them remained.

Li Hao placed the snacks and toys he’d been carrying onto the grass beside him and sat down.

The old black-stone player glanced at them, smiled inwardly—after all, he was still just a boy.

But as Li Hao carried away his belongings, revealing his brocade robe and fine attire, his gaze fell upon the jade pendant swinging at Li Hao’s waist.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

The two youths behind him also noticed the boy seemed to have some background—his earlier conduct was far from ordinary—and they, too, caught sight of the Dragon Blood Jade at his waist, their pupils contracting.

“Old sir, please.”

Li Hao said.

The black-go elder slowly came to his senses, a smile forming at his lips—he never expected a chance encounter would bring him face-to-face with that child from long ago. With a gentle smile, he began the game.

Soon, the first moves were made; Li Hao took white and played second.

The onlookers who had stepped back now dared not approach again, fearing trouble.

Besides, the two youths behind the black-go elder had just revealed their extraordinary prowess—they were clearly no ordinary family—and none wished to draw closer, lest they inadvertently offend.

More passersby were drawn to the distant crash of overturned carts and horses, many hastily untying ropes to offer aid.

Meanwhile, on Li Hao’s side, the black and white stones were already locked in fierce combat.

After the initial formation ended, layered attacks and counterattacks erupted.

Li Hao’s moves were merciless—every one a killing strike, fiercer and more brutal than ever before.

The black-go elder’s pace slowed increasingly; his once gently swaying fan had been tucked away without notice.

Each move was preceded by furrowed brows and long contemplation before placement.

Yet the boy moved swiftly, precisely, ruthlessly—his assault coiled and rolled forward with overwhelming force.

The black-go elder’s expression grew ever more solemn, his full attention locked on the board.

Behind him, the two youths’ faces changed slightly; they glanced at the boy.

Moments later, the outcome of the game was clear.

The black-go elder’s face darkened—he had never imagined he would lose, let alone so decisively.

He hadn’t lost… in many years.

The two youths behind him bore cold fury in their eyes, staring at the boy.

It seemed that if the black-go elder so much as signaled, they would strike instantly with thunderous force and end the boy’s life.

Li Hao sensed it, glanced up briefly, but paid it no mind.

If they truly moved against him, he was unafraid.

The black-go elder stared at the board for a long while, then slowly said: “One more game.”

Li Hao had already risen, his tone calm: “You’ll lose again.”

The black-go elder hesitated—he had never before heard such dismissive words spoken to him.

But seeing the boy’s lack of malice, he took a deep breath, steadied his anger, and said:

“One more game. If you win again, I’ll give you a small gift.”

“I lack nothing,” Li Hao said.

Yet after speaking, he smiled.

The black-go elder smiled back: “The gift I offer—you’ll surely like it.”

“Not necessarily,” Li Hao replied coolly. “Besides, if I win again, I fear your companions might feel compelled to protect you.”

The two youths’ faces darkened, their gazes turning icy as they fixed on Li Hao.

But the black-go elder merely waved his fan, smiling at Li Hao: “They’re immature—don’t take their behavior to heart. If they’ve offended you, I apologize.”

Hearing this, the two youths’ expressions changed, shock flashing in their eyes.

The master… apologized? Though they could only see his back, beneath his gentle tone, they felt a solemn authority radiating from it—both instantly grew solemn, no longer daring to show any hostility.

Li Hao was surprised, studying the old man’s face—his eyes were sincere, warm, truly genuine.

“Alright.”

Li Hao agreed.

He thought the previous battle had been too brutal—he needn’t vent his anger on this man.

Soon, the second game began.

This time, Li Hao’s moves were far gentler; both sides exchanged blows evenly.

The black-go elder’s tension eased; as he played, he even found leisure to converse: “Tell me, young as you are, why do you immerse yourself in the way of go, rather than join the frontier armies or train hard in martial arts to earn glory?”

“Glory and profit are but dust; wealth and honor, mere clouds.”

Li Hao placed a stone casually: “The ultimate goal of life is simply to eat well and stay warm. I seem to have had good fortune—I was born with food and clothing assured. Why strain further?”

“Hmph, useless!”

One of the youths behind the black-go elder couldn’t help but sneer.

Li Hao glanced up, thought: As a bodyguard, you’re any better?

The black-go elder looked at Li Hao in surprise—this wasn’t the sort of thing a boy should say; it sounded more like the mindset of an old man who had shed all pretense and endured countless trials.

Yet just moments ago, the boy had spoken with the bold arrogance of youth.

“A youth should bear lofty ambitions, roaming the nineteen realms in a single day.”

The black-go elder said with interest: “Don’t you wish to see the view from the mountain’s peak?”

“What’s there to see? It’s still just the mortal world.”

Li Hao replied offhandedly: “Some men chase the stars and seas—I only want poetry, wine, and a quiet field. Each man has his own path.”

The black-go elder froze, his hand pausing mid-move.

He stared at the boy before him, and deep within his sealed heart, something stirred.

But one of the youths behind him scoffed: “You’ve never even climbed the peak—how dare you speak so boldly about its view?”

Li Hao frowned slightly, glanced at him, then ignored him.

The black-go elder snapped back to himself, his face hardening: “Hua’er, apologize to the young master.”

What? The youth couldn’t believe his ears, staring at the black-go elder in disbelief.

His father… wanted him to apologize? To whom?

Who could bear his apology? Who would dare to accept it?!

“F-Father, I—”

“Hmm?”

The black-go elder turned his head slightly toward him.

His gaze was as calm as frost after a snowfall—yet the youth instantly broke into cold sweat.

His face paled, beads of sweat forming on his brow; he quickly bowed low to Li Hao: “Young master, I spoke rashly—forgive me.”

“Forget it.”

Li Hao waved his hand.

The black-go elder smiled faintly, then resumed playing, continuing their conversation.

From glory and fame to the figures who had stirred the world, he asked the boy: Had he ever aspired to such heights?

The boy asked in return: Were they still alive?

The black-go elder paused, then chuckled softly.

The second game ended.

Li Hao won again.

But this time, his moves were far lighter, with more give-and-take—truly balanced.

Li Hao felt the old man’s go skill was slightly superior to Fifth Master’s, yet still fell short of his own.

“It’s getting late, old sir. May we meet again by chance.”

Li Hao rose, gathered the scattered trinkets and food—worth no more than three or four taels—and waved cheerfully at the old man before turning away.

“I haven’t given you your gift yet.”

The black-go elder said at once.

“No need.”

The boy didn’t turn back, only waved his hand behind him: “I told you—I lack nothing.”

The black-go elder paused, then laughed softly, murmuring:

“No one in this world truly lacks nothing…”

“Hmph, so this is the third-generation Li of Qingzhou? His cultivation is indeed formidable—I can’t fathom his depth—but he’s foolish.”

Watching the boy’s retreating back, the youth who had just apologized sneered, his eyes dark.

Did the boy even realize how great an opportunity he’d just thrown away?

Ridiculous!

Hearing this, the black-go elder glanced at him coolly, said nothing, and instead gazed down the street where the boy had vanished, sighing inwardly: If only this boy were my son… But the thought passed quickly.

He shook his head and smiled: “This boy’s talent exceeds your imagination—he’s only fourteen, yet his go skill is already master-level. Even with innate talent, such mastery demands deep study…”

Fourteen years of studying go to this degree—and reaching the Fifteen Li Realm? That’s terrifying.

The two youths fell silent.

They couldn’t refute it—it was true.

A fourteen-year-old in the Fifteen Li Realm—his talent left even them far behind.

“You’re being modest. His go skill has only been shown on this small board—yours, Master, is played upon the entire world…”

The other youth, more scholarly, smiled gently.

Hearing this, the black-go elder, though aware it was flattery, burst into loud laughter.

The frustration of losing two games in a row now felt much easier to bear.

“Hah! Good!”

“But next time I see this boy, I’ll win back my dignity on the go board!”

He refused to lose.

With that, he swished his sleeves and laughed as he walked off toward the city gate.

“Master, we’ve only just arrived—the best is yet to come. Won’t you go take another look?”

“I’ve seen enough. Very good, very good!”

(End of Chapter)