Chapter 12: The News of Death

Lin Haixia ultimately left.

But unlike the earlier sorrow and emptiness, he now carried an exhilarated, almost jumping-with-joy heart, nearly running out of the Divine General’s Mansion.

He wanted to deliver this monumental good news to the commander on the border as quickly as possible.

If they knew their child possessed a sword Dao talent rare even after a thousand years, they would surely be astonished and deeply moved!

That sword strike—Lin Haixia understood it, but not completely.

He recognized the technique: the most famed sword art in the Li family’s collection—the Sea Without Shore, Tidal Sword Art!

Yet compared to even the perfect versions he had seen before, it was no less impressive, even carrying a unique quality.

He racked his brain, and in the end could only think of two words:

Roundness.

More flawless than perfection!

Lin Haixia knew that beyond technical perfection lay a deeper realm, called Ultimate Refinement.

Even those who had immersed themselves in a single technique for decades rarely reached it.

Besides relentless practice, it demanded supreme talent.

Yet this astonishing sword strike had manifested in Li Hao’s hands.

A six-year-old child.

Even the most brilliant prodigies found it extraordinarily difficult to master a technique with finesse at age six.

Moreover, Lin Haixia had never seen Li Hao practice swordplay.

But he had no doubt Li Hao had been practicing in secret.

Yet whether poor or rich, every day had only twelve hours.

Before time, all were equal—and when he observed Li Hao, most of the day was spent playing chess, wandering, loafing, daydreaming, eating, and drinking.

He had never seen him touch a sword, not even once.

Even if he trained secretly in secret, how much time could he possibly have squeezed out? He asked Li Hao: Why do you practice swordplay in secret?

And why hide such an astonishing talent?

But Li Hao only smiled and shook his head, saying nothing.

Lin Haixia thought of many things—romantic tales of imperial feuds and aristocratic rivalries he’d heard fragments of—and a quiet suspicion formed in his heart.

Looking at Li Hao’s quiet, smiling face, Lin Haixia felt his nose sting; he understood that if that man on the border returned, this child would never be so utterly unprotected.

He was meant to shine brilliantly, yet now he could only hide and bide his time.

Had this child not sensed my sincerity, he likely would never have let me see this hidden truth… Lin Haixia thought of this, deeply moved and comforted.

That sword strike didn’t just reveal Li Hao’s sword Dao talent; combined with his everyday speech and demeanor, it made Lin Haixia truly realize just how brilliant this child was!

…

Lin Haixia left in such haste that he didn’t even greet Bian Ruxue as he passed the front courtyard.

With Lin Haixia’s departure, the courtyard returned to its usual tranquility.

But now that he was six, Li Hao needed to rise early each day to pay morning respects to Lady He at the Changchun Courtyard—it was etiquette.

The purpose of etiquette was to instill from childhood the virtues of respecting teachers, honoring elders, and remembering kindness.

As Li Hao’s childhood fiancée, Bian Ruxue was already half of the Li family and naturally accompanied him to pay morning respects.

During these visits, they would inevitably encounter children from other courtyards—but only four or five.

All roughly Li Hao’s age.

Like the second son and youngest daughter of the Fifth Lady.

The orphaned son of the Sixth Lady.

The one son and one daughter of the Eighth Lady.

The rest of the children, like Li Qianfeng and Li Wushuang, possessed extraordinary talent and had been taken in by renowned masters.

Or they were older, having enlisted in the army to pursue glory.

Even Lady He’s own son and daughter were already in their twenties, serving as junior generals in the military; they returned only occasionally when there was no war.

But as Li family members, they had long since internalized military discipline, upholding strict order and leading by example—so Lady He rarely saw her children all year.

After paying morning respects, Lady He He Jianlan invited Li Hao and Bian Ruxue to stay for her prepared nutritious breakfast. Sitting at the table, Li Hao chatted briefly with this dignified, elegant lady, before the two small figures swayed back to their own courtyard, one behind the other.

Li Hao, as usual, stared blankly, thinking of chess.

Bian Ruxue practiced swordplay in the courtyard.

The high-grade sword art Lin Haixia had taught her before leaving was enough to keep her occupied for years.

They had assumed this harmonious, tranquil time would simply continue to slip away.

Until several days later, a shocking message suddenly reached the Divine General’s Mansion.

Lin Haixia had returned.

A soldier clad in heavy armor, broad-shouldered and with cold, piercing eyes, brought Lin Haixia back.

But only one hand.

When Li Hao heard the news from Zhao Bo, he froze.

The go stone in his hand fell to the ground, yet he, who normally saw nothing but go stones, didn’t even glance at it.

He didn’t even bother putting on his boots—he ran barefoot out, sprinting to the Changchun Courtyard.

The maid at the gate tried to announce him, but Li Hao had already burst inside.

Then he saw it: in the main hall of the Changchun Courtyard, where he had always paid morning respects, a soldier knelt on one knee. Li Hao’s heart trembled; he passed the soldier and saw before him on the floor a red cloth, upon which lay a hand.

The severed stump was torn, flesh and blood mangled, uneven and jagged.

The green sleeve wrapping—it was the clothing Lin Haixia wore when he left.

This hand, just days ago, had ruffled the little girl’s hair.

Nearby, the soldier was reporting to He Jianlan: “Lieutenant Lin, while en route to Yanbei, was ambushed by demons on the Qizhou highway.”

“The Yanbei front is locked in stalemate; recently, demons have infiltrated cities across Yanbei, attempting to scatter our forces. Similar demon outbreaks have occurred in other provinces as well…”

“Stop.”

He Jianlan interrupted the soldier.

She stared blankly for a moment, watching the barefoot boy rush into the hall—Li Hao.

Then she understood, her eyes filled with quiet sorrow, and she told Xuejian beside her: “Take the arm away.”

“Yes.”

Xuejian nodded gently, then lifted her almond eyes to look at the boy who had rushed in. She knew him well; she knew this arm belonged to the half-teacher who had laid the Foundation Establishment for Li Hao.

But in a military household, she had seen too many partings and deaths—she sighed inwardly, nothing more.

As Xuejian stepped forward, Li Hao took a step ahead and blocked her.

Ignoring her startled expression, Li Hao turned and fixed his gaze on the soldier:

“Which demon killed Uncle Lin?”

The soldier looked up and saw a boy, no taller than his own kneeling height, staring at him with furious anger—his eyes, chillingly cold, utterly unlike a child’s.

From the jade pendant hanging at his waist, the soldier recognized him as a Li family prodigy—though he didn’t know which branch.

He answered honestly: “A fourth-rank thousand-year demon, leading several lesser demons, ambushed Lieutenant Lin and devoured him. By the time the Qizhou garrison commander arrived, only this arm remained.”

Devoured! Li Hao’s mind roared like thunder; his eyes reddened instantly, his blood surged backward, his brain flooded.

He could easily imagine the scene—how cruel, how horrific! Though he had lived in the Divine General’s Mansion and heard many tales of demons, he had never truly seen one. He had known the battlefield was brutal—but for the first time, he felt this shock so directly.

“Did that demon have a name?”

Li Hao asked, voice low.

The soldier replied: “Yes. That demon long dwelled outside Qizhou City, calling himself ‘Tiger Robe Immortal.’”

Li Hao silently engraved the name in his heart, a nameless fury surging within—but he controlled his emotions, asked no more, simply turned, rolled up the red cloth, and wrapped the arm carefully.

Then Li Hao looked up at Lady He on the seat: “Lady He, I’ll take Uncle Lin’s hand back. Forgive my rudeness today.”

Saying this, he picked up the wrapped arm and walked barefoot away.

He Jianlan’s eyes flickered slightly; from Li Hao, she glimpsed something rarely seen before—this child was more mature, more intelligent than she had imagined.

“Xuejian, bring Chengzhi’s boots to Hao’er,” He Jianlan ordered.

Xuejian nodded and went to the side chamber to fetch the boots. As she chased after him outside, the small figure was already gone, vanished from sight.

…

…

Back at Shanhe Courtyard.

Li Hao found a spot, buried the arm, then fetched a wooden tablet, carved “Lin Haixia” upon it, and planted it in the soil.

He ordered Zhao Bo to fence off the area and forbid anyone from entering.

When Zhao Bo learned the buried remains were Lin Haixia’s severed arm, he urgently pleaded: “Young Master, this is the courtyard where the masters live—no bones may be buried here. We have a cemetery for fallen heroes; send Lieutenant Lin there.”

“Set up a memorial tomb for Uncle Lin in the Heroes’ Cemetery.”

Li Hao shook his head slightly, glancing around the courtyard: “This vast Shanhe Courtyard can hold one hand of Uncle Lin.”

“Young Master…”

Zhao Bo wanted to say more, but Li Hao stopped him—he could only fall silent.

“See that Lin’s family receives proper compensation and is treated well,” Li Hao told Zhao Bo.

Zhao Bo replied: “Lieutenant Lin is military; Yanbei should already know the news and will properly care for his family.”

“Yanbei is Yanbei. Here is here,” Li Hao looked at Zhao Bo. “You understand what I mean.”

Zhao Bo paused, then nodded slightly. “I understand.”

The news of Lin Haixia’s death was like a small stone dropped into the lake’s depths, causing only faint ripples within the Divine General’s Mansion.

The other courtyards carried on as usual, but within the Shanhe Courtyard, Li Hao became even more obsessed with chess, neglecting even Bian Ruxue’s sword practice.

He did not tell the little girl about Lin Shu’s fate, to spare her sorrow.

Time flew by.

One day, Li Hao jolted awake from sleep—he had been playing chess with Lin Shu, when suddenly a ferocious tiger burst onto the board, overturning it and pinning Lin Haixia to the ground, biting his throat.

He sat on the bed, gasping for breath.

The little girl beside him woke up, half-asleep, rubbing her eyes. “Hao-gege, what’s wrong?”

Li Hao came to his senses and shook his head. “Nothing.”

After the little girl fell asleep again, Li Hao pulled the blanket back over her, then sat up and went to the windowsill.

Moonlight spilled down, and suddenly characters appeared before Li Hao’s eyes:

[You have comprehended the Heart of Chess.] (End of chapter)