Chapter 52: Merit List

Li Hao unleashed his primordial spirit, a golden soul form soaring from his crown and circling the heavens.

Soon, Li Hao found two wandering children in a corner at the village’s edge.

Without moving his body, his soul dove downward, swept its essence, and stirred the dust on the ground—pebbles shot forth, piercing the two remaining stragglers.

Mo River completion: 90%.

His soul returned, Li Hao took a step—fifteen li spanned in an instant, his figure appearing directly beside the black-robed scholar at the village’s rear mountain.

The black-robed scholar startled slightly at Li Hao’s sudden appearance.

Li Hao had already noticed: this black-robed scholar differed from the villagers—his expression was not numb, but possessed independent thought.

The woman’s soul form clinging to the scholar’s back suddenly lifted her head, fixing Li Hao with a cold, hostile gaze.

“Someone of your realm shouldn’t be here,” the black-robed scholar said softly.

Li Hao replied: “I didn’t intend to be. I stumbled in by accident.”

The black-robed scholar fell silent for a moment, then said: “Before you act, could you let me finish my work?”

Li Hao saw he held a palette of pigments in one hand and a brush in the other, its tip stained with blood; before him stood an easel with a portrait of a woman.

The woman in the painting bore a striking resemblance to the one on his back.

“You also favor painting?” Li Hao was surprised—never expected a dead man to have such leisurely refinement.

The black-robed scholar said nothing, merely lifted his brush and added strokes to the paper.

Seeing this, Li Hao leaned in curiously to observe.

The black-robed scholar’s painting skill was decent—among those Li Hao had encountered, it ranked among the best.

“You seem different from the villagers outside,” Li Hao said.

The black-robed scholar frowned—he disliked being disturbed while painting, yet Li Hao’s strength left him powerless to resist.

“They are merely my servants,” the black-robed scholar said calmly.

“So you are the obsession that gave birth to this Mo River,” Li Hao said. “If I eliminate you, this river should be destroyed.”

“You cannot kill me.”

The black-robed scholar spoke coldly: “Even if you destroy this place, I will return.”

“Since you’re already dead, why refuse rebirth?” Li Hao sighed.

The scholar’s brush paused slightly; a mocking sneer curled his lips—he seemed about to speak, then suddenly remembered something fearful, his words dying on his tongue.

He laughed bitterly a few times, ignored Li Hao, and resumed his painting.

Li Hao paced around him, scanning the surroundings; seeing the scholar no longer acknowledged him, his gaze turned to the painting.

The brush was dipped not in ink, but blood—making the painting grotesque and terrifying.

But Li Hao focused on the underlying technique.

“Your brushwork here is too soft.”

Spotting the flaws, he couldn’t help but advise: “There’s too little blood here—dip more. Let each stroke bleed and blur naturally.”

“...”

The black-robed scholar’s grip on the brush stiffened; he turned slowly to stare at Li Hao: “You understand painting?”

“A little.”

The black-robed scholar studied Li Hao for a moment—he possessed only Soul-Binding realm power, yet existed through the Mo River’s peculiar force, trapped for centuries within this place called Tan Gong Academy.

Over centuries, countless warriors entered this place—some strong, some weak. The strong were even more terrifying than this boy, capable of destroying the entire Mo River village with a gesture.

The weak were no different from the villagers outside; many had died here over the centuries. Some more talented reached him, only to be killed without mercy.

He had seen all kinds of people—but someone like this boy was rare indeed.

Young, terrifying in martial prowess, yet even familiar with esoteric arts.

“Painting is a profound art—no matter how clever you are, you cannot master it with mere casual effort,” the black-robed scholar said, then ignored Li Hao and resumed painting.

Damn it, I was being modest, and now you’re taking advantage? Li Hao glared—this kid actually think his painting was impressive?

If he wanted to boast about martial skill, I’d tolerate it—but painting? “Painting is indeed profound, but unfortunately, you’re an outsider,” Li Hao said bluntly.

“What?”

The black-robed scholar raised an eyebrow, glaring coldly at Li Hao.

“Your painting has at least sixteen flaws—it’s rigid, lifeless—you lack true spirit!” Li Hao spoke without mercy, no longer sparing this fellow practitioner.

“You’re lying!” The scholar lost his composure; his corpse-pale face flushed with fury as he glared at Li Hao.

“Here, here, here...”

Li Hao pointed to various spots on the painting: “All are flaws—you can’t see them because your skill is too low!”

“You!”

The black-robed scholar trembled violently; the woman’s shadow on his back surged with black mist, as if ready to fight Li Hao to the death. Li Hao was unafraid—a furious Soul-Binding cultivator was still just a Soul-Binding cultivator. You think you’ll turn into a golden-haired beast? “Give me the brush.”

Without hesitation, Li Hao snatched the brush from his hand, tore the painting off the easel, crumpled it, and tossed it aside.

Seeing his painstaking work so desecrated, the black-robed scholar could no longer contain himself—he screamed in rage.

His once calm, handsome face twisted into a grotesque mask; blood seeped from all seven orifices, gurgling forth.

His entire black robe billowed open, revealing its inner lining—drenched in crimson.

It was a blood-soaked robe, stained for countless years; only the dried, sedimented blood made it appear black.

Li Hao didn’t even look—he sent his soul forth, effortlessly pinning the scholar and his soul form to the ground, immobilizing them both.

To get angry over a painting this bad? Li Hao couldn’t comprehend it.

The one who should be furious was himself! His gaze sharpened—his heart held reverence for painting.

He lifted the brush and painted swiftly—the blood on the tip flew, lines flowing naturally, layered with perfect weight and contrast.

Soon, the blood on the brush ran dry; Li Hao lifted the scholar, rubbed the brush across his face to soak it in fresh blood, then resumed painting.

In moments, a lifelike woman appeared on the paper—gracefully turned sideways, head bowed gently, as if standing within the painting.

It was still the same woman’s portrait—but now, it was alive.

The best way to silence arrogance is to defeat someone with their own pride.

Li Hao released the black-robed scholar and said calmly: “Compare them. If you still can’t see the difference, never pick up a brush again—go plant crops in the village.”

The black-robed scholar nearly spat blood—plant crops?

He was about to lunge in fury, but suddenly froze—his peripheral vision caught the painting, and he could not look away.

Ayue...

The black-robed scholar stood frozen, as if struck by a thunderclap.

His eyes stared blankly at the woman in the painting; his body, poised to attack, trembled slightly.

Then, two trails of blood tears streamed from his eyes.

Ayue... is that you?

Is it really you?

The scholar rushed forward, stumbling, desperate to touch the woman on the paper—but as his fingers neared, he recoiled in panic, afraid of smudging her face.

His shoulders shook gently; blood tears flowed endlessly.

The woman’s soul form on his back also stared blankly at the painting; her dark, vicious eyes slowly softened, as if awakening to thought.

“Well? How does it compare to yours?”

A voice, utterly out of place, shattered the scholar’s reverie.

He blinked, snapped back to awareness, and looked at Li Hao beside him.

Seeing the boy’s faint pride, he felt no anger—instead, he suddenly dropped to his knees before Li Hao.

“Thank you...”

The scholar bowed his head, eyes filled with gratitude: “Thank you for letting me see Ayue again.”

So the woman in the painting was named Ayue? Li Hao raised an eyebrow but paid no mind; seeing the scholar had surrendered, he helped him up: “Painting is profound—you must not only enter it with your heart, but also with spirit...”

As Li Hao spoke on his own, the black-robed scholar turned his head, gazing spellbound at the woman on the paper.

The noise beside him was automatically muted.

Long, long time passed.

Li Hao’s throat was dry from talking; seeing the man lost in thought, he grew furious: “Did you hear me?”

The scholar snapped back, smiled suddenly at Li Hao—and his black robe gradually faded, turning from black to crimson, then pale red, finally becoming a white scholar’s robe.

His attire suggested he had once been a Licentiate.

“My wish is fulfilled. Thank you, benefactor...” The scholar—no longer black-robed—smiled with peace and release.

Behind him, the woman’s soul form also dissolved her black mist, transforming into the exact likeness of the painted woman; in midair, she bowed gracefully to Li Hao, her eyes filled with gratitude.

Then, both figures gradually faded.

“Ayue...” The scholar’s form grew faint, whispering softly, lips curled in a smile.

Li Hao froze—what just happened? At that moment, his palm burned; a golden scroll appeared.

On the golden scroll, golden characters carved themselves into the paper:

【Completion: 100%. Passed Fengshan Mo River. Reward: Merit 100.】

【You have entered the Merit List.】

【Mo River will vanish soon. Depart immediately.】

(End of Chapter)