Chapter 7: Body Dao

In Changchun Courtyard.

He Jianlan sat upright on a polished golden sandalwood armchair, listening to the young retainer’s trembling report, her heart stirred slightly.

She had long heard the child was precocious, exceptionally clever—too bad he had no martial talent, wasting all that intelligence.

Thinking of the letter from the frontier, He Jianlan sighed inwardly and said softly, “Xuejian, keep an eye on the boy. Just make sure he doesn’t tear the books.”

“Yes.”

Beside her, a woman with almond eyes and red lips, pale-skinned, replied quietly.

…

The order from Changchun Courtyard reached the outer gates of Tingyu Tower. Li Hao, seeing the little girl sent to supervise him, was surprised but didn’t mind—after all, he was still too young; the chief lady’s concern over him entering alone was only natural.

Though both were servants, Zhao Bo’s status was clearly lower than this girl named Xuejian, who barred him from entering the tower.

Inside the ancient tower, the light was dim, and a layer of dust coated the floor.

Rows of towering bookshelves lined the interior; Li Hao walked slowly, examining them—each shelf bore wooden tags, neatly categorized.

There were sword techniques, knife methods, spear arts, weapon classifications, poison manuals, and more.

The books were countless, nearly everything imaginable.

Li Hao couldn’t help but marvel.

This small tower held half the martial world.

Not long after, Li Hao found the body-cultivation manuals—dense with titles of hardening arts.

“Golden Strength Scripture,” “Divine Turtle Nine Transformations,” “Seven Stars Seal,” and others.

Li Hao casually picked up a manual titled “Stone Skin Hundred Refinements,” leaned against a shelf, and began reading.

The tower was utterly silent, save for two breathing sounds—one large, one small.

Xuejian followed silently behind Li Hao like a shadow, her demeanor refined, her bearing even finer than that of an ordinary nobleman’s daughter; she watched the young master, famed since birth, her eyes holding a trace of curiosity.

Truly precocious—he even knows how to read.

And he’s reading so seriously—can he possibly understand any of it?

Time passed.

Li Hao reread the opening passage of the manual, parsing each character; after a long while, a welcome message finally appeared before him:

“Skill acquired at a rudimentary level. Record it?”

Li Hao selected “Yes” immediately.

Soon, a panel flashed before his eyes.

【Name: Li Hao】

【Age: 4】

【Cultivation Base: Commoner】

【Sword Dao: Stage Two】

【Skill: Sea Without Shore · Tides (Supreme) [Locked]】

【Body Dao: Not Yet Entered】

【Skill: Stone Skin Hundred Refinements (Not Yet Entered) {Locked}】

【Go Dao: Stage Two (18/1000)】

【Go Manual Collection: 0】

【Art Point: 0】

Seeing the skill recorded, Li Hao was pleasantly surprised—his guess was right. Now he could officially begin cultivation.

But before that, he still needed to accumulate more Art Points.

Thinking of this, Li Hao’s face fell again.

Solo practice yielded experience quickly, but playing against others was far slower.

Only 18 points accumulated in three days, and the tools had already fled in fear.

Need to find a stable tool… Li Hao muttered inwardly, returned the manual to the shelf, then turned to the girl behind him and asked, “Where’s the best body-cultivation manual kept?”

Xuejian was slightly startled—this child actually understands body cultivation? Who taught him?

Could it be the military captain who gave him Foundation Establishment?

Blocked meridians, so he’s turning to pure body cultivation… Xuejian’s eyes flickered with understanding, and she replied softly, “Your Young Master, the strongest body-cultivation manual in Tingyu Tower is on the sixth floor. I’ll take you there.”

“Isn’t it on the seventh floor?”

Li Hao felt disappointed. “The strongest should mean the only one, right?”

“One is complete and can be fully cultivated; the other is a fragment—can be practiced, but never reaches the pinnacle,” Xuejian said.

Li Hao was surprised—a fragment could reach the sixth floor? Soon, the girl carried him up to the sixth floor.

He couldn’t have climbed there himself—he’d been exhausted by the third floor. The higher the floor, the fewer the manuals; by the sixth, only a few short shelves remained, perhaps twenty or thirty manuals total.

But Li Hao didn’t underestimate the number—Li family’s thousand-year accumulation meant even these twenty or thirty would be priceless outside.

Soon, Xuejian brought the two body-cultivation manuals she mentioned to Li Hao.

One was “Thousand Serpent Sacred Body.”

The other was titled “Primordial Origin.”

Both covers were worn and frayed—thrown into an ordinary household, they’d be used as table leg pads.

Li Hao took them, flipping through each one.

Merely the opening passages revealed a vast gulf compared to what he’d read on the first floor.

He… couldn’t understand a word.

The text was obscure as classical prose—no, worse, like oracle bone script. He barely recognized a few characters, but together, they made no sense.

Li Hao’s small face scrunched up.

He forced himself to read a while longer, then decisively gave up.

He couldn’t even reach rudimentary mastery.

“When I watched that brat practice swordplay, I spent days watching him perform before I recorded ‘Sea Without Shore’—and that was by observation. This is self-study…”

Li Hao shook his head. He’d wait until he accumulated enough Art Points to raise his Body Dao before trying again.

He had Xuejian carry him downstairs.

Though he wanted to learn other manuals, he clearly lacked the energy for them now.

Without Art Points, everything was useless—the problem returned to… lacking a tool.

Outside Tingyu Tower, Li Hao bid farewell to the girl who handled every interaction with perfect poise, then returned with Zhao Bo to Shanhe Courtyard.

“Big Brother Hao.”

Seeing Li Hao return, Bian Ruxue dashed over, tripped on her small feet, and nearly fell.

“Don’t rush, don’t rush,” Li Hao said quickly.

“Where did Big Brother Hao go? Can you take me next time?” Bian Ruxue pouted, gazing at him with hopeful eyes.

Over the past year, the little girl had grown attached to Li Hao—she even brought her pillow to his room at night, only sleeping peacefully if she was beside him.

Li Hao had driven her away several times at first, but she’d woken crying in the middle of the night, running to him tearfully; her pitiful look made him unable to refuse.

Fortunately, his bed was large and his body small—adding one more didn’t matter. The girl slept quietly, so he let her stay.

“Be good. As long as you stay here, I’ll always come back no matter where I go,” Li Hao said, patting her head.

The servants and maids around them had seen this scene too often to be surprised.

“Pinkie swear.”

Bian Ruxue extended her small hand.

Li Hao sighed, humorously hooked his little finger with hers.

“Don’t break your promise. You said whoever breaks it is a puppy,” Bian Ruxue pouted.

“Fine, fine,” Li Hao sighed.

…

In the days that followed, Li Hao resolved to showcase his Go talent, demanding forcefully that servants and maids play with him.

Whoever refused would receive three lashes from Zhao Bo.

Three lashes wouldn’t break skin, but were enough to make their buttocks too sore to sit for half a day.

Under the young master’s tyranny, the servants and maids took turns playing with him.

As days passed,

Two scenes emerged in the courtyard: one, a large and small figure—Lin Haixia teaching Bian Ruxue basic sword forms and fist techniques.

Not formal cultivation—just posture training, familiarizing with martial sensation.

The process was occasionally painful, but the girl’s stubborn nature kept her from ever crying.

The other scene was lively.

A group of servants gathered around a pavilion, Li Hao playing Go with one, while others were ordered to watch and learn.

Among the servants, some knew nothing of Go, others had picked up bits here and there; Li Hao discovered that when he won against those with skill, he gained not one but two Art Points, sometimes even three! But against those who knew nothing, even a win gave only one point.

If the opponent made an illegal move, the entire game was voided.

Gradually, the servants no longer rotated—Li Hao found the two best players and had them play with him daily to grind experience.

In the blink of an eye, Li Hao turned five.

(End of Chapter)