Chapter 87: Outrage and Exposure

Crimson Blood Horse!

Li Tiangang sat stably atop the Jiao Lion, spotting the boy in the center of the road at the horizon.

He instantly recognized the warhorse beneath him, and as he studied the boy’s face, he saw a strikingly handsome and clear visage—especially the eyes and brows, bearing the exact contours of the woman etched into his heart.

Li Tiangang’s heart trembled.

Li Hao was also staring at the sturdy, composed man.

The hazy memory in his mind sharpened at this moment—he was the man who, fourteen years ago, had ruffled his hair with rough hands.

Fourteen years had passed, yet in this brief collision of gazes, both recognized each other’s identity in an instant.

Whoosh! Li Tiangang leapt suddenly into the air, leaving the Jiao Lion’s back and landing before Li Hao’s Crimson Blood Horse.

The boy swiftly dismounted—there was no reason to speak to his father while still seated on a horse.

“Hao’er?”

Li Tiangang’s voice trembled.

Li Hao felt the concern and deep emotion in his voice; the faint sense of strangeness vanished instantly.

Perhaps this was what it meant to be bound by blood?

“Father.”

Li Hao spoke, his voice slightly stiff and awkward, but he knew—the man before him was his father in this life.

Li Tiangang pulled Li Hao into a tight embrace, overcome with emotion.

Fourteen years had passed—his child had grown so large! His heart surged.

The broad arms, the strong embrace—Li Hao immediately felt a solid, real sense of safety.

In that moment, his heart finally settled.

His hands gently wrapped around his father’s waist, but then he remembered something, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he asked: “Where’s Mother?”

The moment he spoke, the man holding him stiffened sharply.

Li Hao’s face paled; his blood seemed to freeze.

Li Tiangang slowly released him, his dark, deep eyes now streaked with red veins and sorrow: “Your mother… she’s gone.”

Gone…?

Li Hao’s mind stuttered.

The woman with the bright, caring eyes in his memory… gone? It felt as if a delicate painting had shattered into darkness.

Li Hao turned sharply toward the returning victory procession; the countless admiring and concerned glances and voices along the road vanished from his awareness—only the wounded soldiers remained visible.

But among them, there was no trace of the beautiful figure who had held him fourteen years ago.

Li Hao’s face darkened: “How could this be? Mother wasn’t always with you? Didn’t you both fight side by side?”

Li Tiangang’s lips moved slightly, but no word came out.

Li Hao stared at him sharply: “When did she go? Why did no one—especially not Auntie—ever tell me?”

“A few months ago.”

Li Tiangang fell silent briefly: “I suppressed the news. I didn’t let it spread.”

Seeing Li Hao about to speak again, he placed his broad hand on his son’s shoulder: “Come. Let’s return home and talk.”

Li Hao’s earlier joy had now turned hollow.

The townsfolk along the road still cheered, singing praises of the Xing Wu Hou’s triumphant return, of the Li family’s glorious military deeds.

Only Li Hao, pulled onto the Jiao Lion beside his father, knew the truth.

On this day, he had lost his mother.

…

Back at the Divine General’s Mansion.

He Jianlan, Liu Yuerong, and the other concubines had gathered in the Shanhe Courtyard, waiting eagerly.

Li Xuanli had rushed to the mansion’s gate, pacing anxiously back and forth until Li Tiangang appeared—then both brothers broke into smiles.

After a deep embrace,

Li Xuanli punched Li Tiangang’s armored chest, then ruffled Li Hao’s hair, looking around with a grin:

“Where’s your wife?”

Li Tiangang’s expression darkened slightly; he shook his head: “We’ll talk once we’re inside.”

Li Xuanli froze, his face changing—he now noticed that while he’d ruffled Li Hao’s hair, the boy hadn’t moved a muscle.

The smile vanished from Li Xuanli’s face; he nodded slowly and accompanied them back into the mansion.

In the Shanhe Courtyard.

With Li Tiangang’s return, the courtyard had been lively—but soon, they learned the seventh concubine, Ji Qingqing, had not returned.

Li Tiangang said only two words: “She’s gone.”

The atmosphere instantly turned icy.

Everyone exchanged glances, their eyes filled with sorrow and quiet lament—this had happened too many times before.

One by one, they approached to comfort Li Tiangang and Li Hao.

Only He Jianlan watched from afar, sighing, saying nothing.

Li Wushuang, who had been beaten by Li Hao that very morning, still felt lingering pain in her buttocks—but as she gazed at the lonely boy standing silently beside his father, she felt no delight, only shock and pity; her earlier resentment vanished.

Though she had wanted to teach Li Hao a lesson and resented his humiliation of her, they were still blood relatives, both Li family—she had never truly entertained thoughts of harming him.

The planned celebration ended abruptly, but meals were still served; everyone spoke softly, asking Li Tiangang about conditions in Yanbei over the years.

Though major events had been reported via military dispatches, details were never shared—now, years of pent-up words could finally be spoken.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the concubines from other courtyards departed. Li Xuanli wished to stay and keep company with his younger brother, but his wife pulled him away.

Gao Qingqing, sensing her husband’s intent, sighed inwardly and pulled him aside to whisper:

“Can you comfort them with a few words? They haven’t seen each other in years—why are you standing in the way?”

Li Xuanli suddenly understood, gripping his wife’s soft hand with quiet gratitude—how fortunate he was to have such a wise wife. He bade farewell to Li Tiangang and returned home with his wife and children.

The courtyard soon held only Li Tiangang, his personal guards from Yanbei, Li Hao, Zhao Bo, and others within the compound.

During dinner, Li Hao learned much about Yanbei from the questions of his aunts.

Ordinary wars lasted at most two or three years; rarely did conflicts drag on for seven or eight. This one had endured over a decade because the Sacred Palace forces of the demon clans sought to tear apart Yanbei, using it as a breach to seize favorable terrain against Dayu.

Through conversation, Li Hao learned that though Dayu was in an age of prosperity, prosperity did not mean peace along the borders.

In any dynasty, border garrisons were always manned—because invaders would always come, only the scale changed.

But from this war, it was clear Dayu had not fully eradicated its external enemies—or rather, the territories expanded and the demons subdued by Dayu’s former emperor had, after thousands of years, begun to rise again.

Dayu was like an aging lion—its golden age showing signs of decline.

Yet no one knew how many more centuries its remaining might could still deter threats.

Li Hao wanted to ask for details about his mother’s death, but as soon as he mentioned it, Li Tiangang’s face darkened and he shook his head, saying only:

“Hao’er, I failed your mother. From now on, this courtyard will hold only you and me.”

Li Hao fell silent.

He suddenly realized—his mother’s death pained not only him.

She had followed her husband through the night to the frontier, proof of their deep bond.

Over the years, Li Hao had heard many stories of his parents’ youthful affection.

He had spent less than a hundred days with his mother; his father had lived with her for over a decade—their bond was far deeper than he could ever comprehend.

After a brief silence, Li Hao finally asked:

“Did you avenge Mother?”

Li Tiangang’s body trembled slightly, then nodded: “Yes.”

Li Hao exhaled softly: “Good.”

The father and son looked at each other, wordless.

Li Hao had wanted to say so much, ask so many questions—but listening to his father’s conversations with his aunts, he now understood the hardships of the Yanbei war, and his lingering resentment faded.

Yet now, he could not think of anything else to say.

It seemed that since ancient times, fathers and sons often fell into silence.

In this silence, it was Li Tiangang who spoke first, softly: “Hao’er, these years your mother and I were not beside you—you suffered.”

Li Hao shook his head slightly, smiling: “I didn’t suffer. Zhao Bo kept me company, Second Uncle taught me fishing, Fifth Uncle played chess with me, Auntie He treated me well, and Ninth Auntie sometimes sent me royal sweets…”

He recounted the small joys of his years to his father.

But Li Hao didn’t notice—Li Tiangang had begun with a smile, but as he listened, his brow slowly furrowed.

“So you say your meridians cleared, yet you didn’t cultivate much?” Li Tiangang asked, voice grave.

Li Hao blinked, scratching his head: “I did cultivate—but there’s nothing special to say about it.”

Li Tiangang studied him for a moment, sighing inwardly: “It’s late now. Go rest early.”

Seeing his father’s exhaustion, remembering the long journey from Yanbei, Li Hao said no more, nodded, and rose to leave.

After Li Hao departed, Li Tiangang summoned Zhao Bo.

“Where’s Li Fu?”

“Li Fu is in Cangyu City. The young master enrolled at Tan Gong Academy, and Li Fu was assigned to protect him during a mission there. He was injured and is recovering. He already sent word saying he’s on his way back.”

Zhao Bo smiled respectfully as he spoke to the man who had watched Li Hao grow up—and who was now a famed general of the realm.

Li Tiangang’s face changed: “Injured? Did someone try to assassinate Hao’er?”

“No. He only told me to take good care of the young master, and said he had great news to share when he returned,” Zhao Bo replied.

“Good fortune?” Li Tiangang frowned. He was injured—how could there be good fortune? He thought for a moment: Cangyu City lay within the jurisdiction of the Xia family of Qizhou; it wasn’t far, but not close either. With swift horses, he could return home in two days.

“Old Zhao, tell me about Hao’er’s situation these past years.”

Li Tiangang gestured to the cushion beside him.

Old Zhao blinked slightly, then sat down and smiled. “Master, why don’t you ask the Young Master directly? You haven’t seen each other in so long—you must have much to say. Why not talk about it now?”

Li Tiangang shook his head slightly and sighed.

“I’ve noticed Hao’er speaks casually, acts somewhat reckless, and lacks proper etiquette. It seems no one has disciplined him these past years—his nature has grown wild. You tell me instead.”

“Master, you’re being too harsh. The Young Master may be a bit carefree, but he’s truly a good boy. He’s kind-hearted, never treats the servants harshly, and shows proper respect to all the elders in the household—never oversteps boundaries. He hasn’t caused any real trouble these past years, at most, a few years ago he dabbled in some strange things in the kitchen…”

“Just tell me about his cultivation,” Li Tiangang interrupted, waving his hand.

Old Zhao blinked, then hesitated. “Well…”

Seeing Old Zhao struggle to speak, Li Tiangang’s expression darkened. “So he hasn’t cultivated at all?”

“Not entirely…”

Seeing Old Zhao stammer, Li Tiangang’s face grew grim.

“Has he lost heart? After all, his meridians finally cleared. Even if he hasn’t reached Foundation Establishment, falling behind others is no crime—my Undying Bloodline ensures he’ll outpace peers in the early stages!”

“By the time he reaches Soul Travel, with the Tingyu Tower’s teachings and ancestral aid from the clan shrine, he could still make the Qian List. At least then he’d have the strength to protect himself. Yet he’s sunk this low!”

Old Zhao looked embarrassed. “Actually, the Young Master has been working hard…”

“Working hard at playing?”

Li Tiangang shot him a sidelong glance—its lingering battlefield authority made Old Zhao’s heart tremble slightly.

“It seems you’ve all spoiled him too much. Arrogance from favoritism—do you know how harmful that is?” Li Tiangang said sternly.

Old Zhao could no longer sit. He rose hastily. “Master, it’s my fault—I failed to guard him properly.”

Li Tiangang paused, suddenly realizing he’d been too harsh. Years of battlefield tension had left him unaccustomed to relaxation.

Seeing this servant, who had cared for him since childhood, bowing in apology, he felt a pang of guilt. He sighed deeply. “It’s not your fault. Hao’er has been spoiled too much.”

Old Zhao lowered his head, daring not to respond.

Li Tiangang suddenly lost interest. He waved his hand. “You may rest now.”

Old Zhao hesitated, then bowed and withdrew.

…

…

The next day.

Li Hao slept in.

His father had returned—he should spend more time with him. These two days, he didn’t need to go to the Tanc Palace Academy anyway. He never had much to do there—just sketching by the cold pond, or playing chess and drinking with Old Shen.

Perhaps because of his thoughts before sleep, in his dream Li Hao vaguely saw those eyes—holding him gently, soothing him to sleep—until suddenly, countless demons surrounded him.

“Young Master!”

Suddenly, a soft voice called beside his ear.

Li Hao startled awake, eyes flying open to see a young man standing beside his bed.

“When did you come in?” Li Hao couldn’t help asking.

He recognized the youth—one of the personal guards who had returned with his father yesterday. He looked about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, slender, with sharp eyes.

“Young Master, Master has sent me to summon you to the front courtyard for training.”

The youth, Yu Xuan, smiled.

Li Hao sighed inwardly. His quiet days were over.

Thinking of the dream he’d just been interrupted from, he scowled. “Unless I give permission, no one enters my room.”

Yu Xuan nodded. “Yes.”

Li Hao reluctantly sat up and called for Qingzhi to bring fresh clothes.

Watching Li Hao’s aristocratic manner, Yu Xuan stood silently, expression unchanged.

But Li Hao moved even slower than he expected—standing lazily while the maid slowly fastened his robes. Yu Xuan finally prompted: “Young Master, Master is already waiting.”

Li Hao froze, then quickly dressed himself in three swift motions. “Let’s go.”

The two left the room and headed toward the front courtyard.

As they passed the main hall, Li Hao glanced casually—and suddenly froze, eyes wide with shock. He rushed inside.

All the paintings and calligraphy he’d accumulated over the years were gone.

“Old Zhao!”

Li Hao called out urgently.

Old Zhao hurried from the front courtyard. “Young Master.”

“Where are my paintings?!”

Li Hao, rarely angry, now glared at Old Zhao with fury.

Old Zhao’s expression changed. He hesitated. “Master saw them this morning. He ordered them all moved.”

“Where to?”

“The woodshed…”

Li Hao’s blood boiled. The woodshed? Was he going to burn them all as trash?! If it were other paintings, fine—but those included his sketches of his mother, whose face had long faded from memory!

“Bring them back immediately. All of them. No one touches my paintings again!” Li Hao bit out each word.

Old Zhao had never seen Li Hao this furious. He was stunned, then hurried to respond. “Young Master, don’t worry—I’ll get them right away.”

But as he turned to leave, a hand blocked him.

Yu Xuan stepped in front of Old Zhao, his face still calm. “Young Master, these paintings were moved on the General’s orders. You should come with me to train.”

Li Hao already knew—no one but his father, who had just returned yesterday, would dare touch his paintings.

But hearing it said aloud, a surge of rage rose within him, uncontrollable.

“Get out of my way!” Li Hao glared at him.

Yu Xuan met his gaze steadily, his arm unmoved. In the army, he obeyed only Li Tiangang’s orders.

So it was here, in this Shanhe Courtyard.

Because that man—was the true master here.

Li Hao clenched his fists, staring fiercely. “I’ll say it again—get out!!”

“Who are you telling to get out?” A voice came from beside them. Li Tiangang walked in, his expression dark.

Yu Xuan lowered his arm and bowed.

“Father, those paintings contain—”

As his father approached, Li Hao began.

But before he finished, Li Tiangang shook his head coldly. “Apologize to Yu Xuan.”

Li Hao froze, then widened his eyes in disbelief.

Old Zhao’s face paled. “Master, the Young Master only cares about the paintings—they’re his life’s work. He’s just upset, that’s why he spoke harshly—”

“Silence!”

Li Tiangang snapped at him—a rare rebuke.

Old Zhao stood stunned.

Li Tiangang’s face flushed with anger. Last night he’d already been displeased; this morning, seeing the entire hall cluttered with paintings, chessboards, and multiple fishing rods casually propped on shelves—it was sheer chaos. He was furious.

Just by looking at these things, it was clear: Li Hao wasn’t just neglecting cultivation—he was wasting himself on trivialities!

And yet, everyone in the household spoiled him.

He knew Li Hao was his son, the Young Master—his status made it impossible for Old Zhao and the others to defy him.

His elder sister-in-law probably wouldn’t dare impose strict discipline either.

But now that he was back, he would correct this. He would set Li Hao firmly on the right path—cultivate him properly. “Apologize to Yu Xuan. Now.”

After scolding Old Zhao, Li Tiangang turned to Li Hao, his face stern.

Li Hao stared at him, feeling strange, almost alien—as if seeing him for the first time.

Yesterday… had been different.

Suddenly, a bitter amusement rose in him.

Yes—he’d only just met this father. How much did he truly know about him?

And how much did this father know about him? He stared at the man before him. “Is it because you think I haven’t cultivated? What if I told you I have cultivated—and my realm is high?”

Li Tiangang’s eyes didn’t change. He spoke coldly, seriously: “I don’t care how powerful you are. Yu Xuan has fought beside me through life and death. Do you know how many demons he’s slain? How many lives he’s saved?”

“He’s a Heaven-Tier cultivator. He’s a Grandmaster.”

Li Tiangang spoke each word clearly. “A Grandmaster cannot be insulted. Even if you’re my son, you must apologize today.”

Hearing this, Li Hao almost laughed—but his smile felt tragic.

“So a Grandmaster cannot be insulted? But do you know what’s in those paintings—”

Before he could finish, a figure rushed into the courtyard. Seeing Li Tiangang and Li Hao, he cried out excitedly: “Marquis! Young Master!!”

Both turned. It was Li Fu, face flushed with excitement.

Li Fu had traveled all the way from Cangyu City. Just outside Qingzhou, on the roadside, he’d overheard travelers at a tea stall talking about the return of the Li family’s Xing Wu Hou.

Hearing the news, Li Fu was overjoyed and raced back at full speed.

“Li Fu.”

Li Tiangang’s expression softened slightly upon seeing him—but then he noticed how recklessly the man had burst in, utterly unlike the composed, disciplined servant he once was.

It’s been years since we last met, and now you’ve become so uncouth.

Li Hao saw it was Fu Bo, and his expression didn’t change much—he’d only been apart from him for a short while.

“It’s been years, and now you’ve lost all discipline?” Li Tiangang said with a slight frown.

Li Fu froze, suddenly realizing his mistake, and hurriedly bowed.

Then he glanced at Li Hao, his face unable to hide his joy, and said, “My Lord, I sent you a letter—did you receive it?”

“Letter?”

Li Tiangang said, “Was it sent to Yanbei? When? I never received it.”

Li Fu suddenly understood—when he sent the letter, the Marquis had already set out for the estate.

During his recovery, he inquired about the details of the Cangyu City battle; after learning them thoroughly, he found it hard to believe.

He later pressed the city governor, Yue Shuhong, and confirmed the truth from his own lips.

The moment he learned of it, he did not send a letter back to the estate first—he sent it to Yanbei.

After all, such an astonishing piece of good news naturally had to be delivered first to Li Hao’s parents—they were the ones he trusted most.

Informing the estate was secondary; he planned to return and tell Second Uncle and the others in person, and also wanted to ask whether they had already learned of Li Hao’s condition.

“Even if you didn’t receive it, it doesn’t matter—since My Lord has returned, I’ll tell you myself.”

Li Fu beamed, glanced at Li Hao, and his voice trembled with excitement: “The Young Master has reached the Fifteen Li Realm!”

(End of Chapter)