Chapter 32: The Child King Li Hao

Hearing the child’s earnest instructions, He Jianlan’s expression tightened slightly; she nodded gently and said softly, “I’ll pass on everything you said. Don’t worry—study hard with Second Grandpa, listen to him, don’t misbehave, and if you have time, go train at the practice ground; it’s always open to you.”

Previously, she hadn’t asked Li Hao to go to the practice ground because she feared he’d be bullied; now that he’d begun cultivation, going there would let him spar, exchange insights, and hone his combat skills—all beneficial to his cultivation.

After Li Hao and Li Fu withdrew, He Jianlan couldn’t help but sigh softly.

Beside her, Xuejian noticed her expression and asked cautiously, “My lady, why do you sigh?”

“Little Seven is swamped with military affairs up in Yanbei—perhaps he’s forgotten. And that couple too—haven’t seen each other in years, yet they don’t even send more letters, don’t bother to care for this child. Hao’er is actually very well-behaved…”

He Jianlan murmured to herself, her tone tinged with helplessness and a hint of reproach.

Xuejian, quick-witted, froze suddenly and said, “So the kindness you just showed… was all made up by you…?”

He Jianlan glanced at her; Xuejian fell silent, lowering her head, yet couldn’t help secretly glancing toward the courtyard gate—where the small figure had already swayed away.

So the warmth in her words had been entirely fabricated… yet the little master had believed them wholeheartedly…

…

…

Back at Shanhe Courtyard.

Before Li Hao could even take out his sketchboard, another letter arrived, delivered by a retainer; seeing the sender’s name, his face lit up with a smile, and his earlier disappointment vanished.

Though he’d had little contact with the couple in Yanbei, strangely, in quiet late-night moments, he sometimes felt a pang of longing.

Perhaps it was the warmth of that embrace, resurfacing in some dream.

Or perhaps it was those sincere eyes—he still hadn’t forgotten them.

This letter in his hand came from Jianlu—naturally from that lovely little girl.

Since she’d gone to Jianlu, she’d sent letters every so often—at first every three or five days, then less frequently, as her Sword Saint master had tightened discipline and urged her to focus on cultivation; now, she sent one every month.

The letters no longer recorded daily details—she’d said too much already. Jianlu’s cultivation was dull and repetitive; training the basics was inevitably tedious.

Li Hao opened the letter, sat on a reclining chair in the sunlight, and read every word slowly, with a smile, not skipping a single line.

He spotted a misspelled character, along with a circle and a cross—some word she’d written wrong, then skipped because she didn’t know how to write it correctly.

Li Hao could almost picture the little girl hunched over the letter, scratching her head in frustration, and couldn’t help smiling softly.

The letter described her recent meals and the rare medicinal pills her Sword Saint master had obtained for her; her cultivation had reached Zhou Tian Realm Fifth Layer, and she’d opened twenty-one meridians, studying Jianlu’s most powerful qi circulation technique.

Li Hao had heard Second Grandpa say that Jianlu’s qi circulation technique was the Star River Sword Qi Scripture—a top-tier cultivation method; when perfected to Zhou Tian’s peak, it could open forty-nine meridians—only slightly inferior to the Li family’s Dragon River Divine Meridians Scripture, which opened fifty-four.

Moreover, the little girl had already opened the Taiyin Yin Meridian, earning her the Sword Saint master’s deep favor.

Seeing this, Li Hao couldn’t help but be glad for her. The Dragon River Divine Meridians Scripture was not taught outside the direct lineage—even Bian Ruxue, his fiancée, couldn’t learn it, nor could any of the concubines, including He Jianlan.

But the techniques they could learn were still top-tier—just slightly weaker.

If one had extraordinary talent and could open two special major meridians, one could compensate for the technique’s inferiority—but such talent was exceedingly rare in the world.

After finishing the letter, Li Hao summoned a retainer to bring him brush, ink, paper, and envelopes.

He wrote leisurely, detailing his recent painting lessons, cooking experiments, the joys of fishing, and a new acquaintance with an interesting elder.

Of course, he didn’t mention the name or title of the Thief Saint.

After all, Old Feng was a villain in Dayu, disliked by all factions; only someone as carefree as Second Grandpa would befriend such a man—but outsiders didn’t know of their bond, or they’d surely curse behind their backs: “You corrupt official-criminal alliance!” After writing, Li Hao casually sketched a small emoticon to encourage her: keep cultivating hard, let’s encourage each other. (_)

…

…

After sending the letter, Li Hao brought out his sketchboard and resumed drawing; now at Painting Stage Two, his skill had grown far more refined.

Though the sketches seemed unchanged at first glance, one soon noticed: the eyes had grown livelier, as if gazing straight out from the paper.

Before he finished one piece, a group of figures rushed into the courtyard, noisy and boisterous; from afar, someone shouted, “Big Brother Hao, we’re here!”

Looking up, three little brats came sprinting over.

They were Li Yuanzhao, the only son of the Sixth Lady.

And Li Yun and Li Zhining, the second son and third daughter of the Fifth Lady.

On the day they saw Bian Ruxue off to Jianlu, they’d been fellow direct-lineage “classmates” who’d come to Shanhe Courtyard to bid her farewell—and thus met Li Hao.

Later, that boy Li Yun kept showing up, asking about Bian Ruxue, when she’d return; Li Hao realized then that this brat, barely grown a single hair, dared to fancy his little girl.

But he didn’t take it seriously.

—He’d just beaten the little brat’s buttocks black and blue.

Then, after threatening and intimidating him, he made sure the brat wouldn’t dare tell the Fifth Lady—after all, kids fighting was no fun if adults intervened.

Of course, the main reason was that he could win.

Since then, Li Yun always felt a shadow of fear around Li Hao—but he didn’t stop coming to Shanhe Courtyard; instead, he later brought his sister and another sixth-rank brat along for courage.

After several encounters, Li Hao easily became the king of these three children.

“Big Brother Hao, you never finished the story about the monkey being sealed—what happened next?”

Li Yuanzhao, short and chubby, ran up to the sketchboard, his dirty little hands not daring to touch the paper, afraid Li Hao would tap his head.

“Yes, yes!” Li Yun nodded vigorously, his head bobbing like a chick pecking grain—he’d long been subdued by Li Hao.

Beside them, the little girl Li Zhining handed Li Hao a food box, her eyes sparkling: “Big Brother Hao, these are fragrant crispy cakes my mother made—we all ate them, they’re delicious. I brought these for you.”

“I haven’t had any yet!” Li Yuanzhao immediately spoiled it, reaching out with his filthy hands from the practice ground, but Li Zhining twisted away and shot him a glare.

The little fat boy looked at her, wounded.

Li Hao smiled, didn’t refuse, opened the box—its fragrance filled the air. He took a bite; it was indeed delicious. Then he divided the rest among them: “Go get your own little stools. I’ll tell you the story while you eat.”

“Uncle Zhao, chairs!” Li Yun shouted loudly.

Li Hao tapped his head impatiently: “You think you can order Uncle Zhao around? Go get them yourself!”

Li Yun rubbed his head, timid, mumbled something unclear, then pointed at a retainer: “You—bring me a stool.”

The retainer dared not disobey and obediently went to fetch one.

Li Yuanzhao and Li Zhining, familiar with the routine, ran inside themselves and brought out small stools, sitting quietly beside Li Hao.

(End of Chapter)