Chapter 691 502: Minghuang

Dawn.

The morning light climbs step by step up the stone stairs, gilding the two stone beasts before the gate in golden glory. The Li Family craftsmen fashioned these images by the likeness of the snake-tamer Li Wushao—twin tails coiling, beast heads held high.

Li Zhouwei emerges from the Central Hall, silk-gold boots ringing crisp against the ground, his hand resting upon the sword at his waist. He has grown notably more mature in these past few years; the innate aura that once made others tremble now tempered, no longer daunting at first glance.

The radiance in those eyes has also slowly subdued, settling into a distinct black-brown hue, seemingly void now of any fearful presence. He strides forward with nimbleness, a fleeting glimmer of cunning flashing in his gaze from time to time, his composed bearing intermittently revealing a startling agility and swiftness—hardly the demeanor of a mere youth of a dozen years.

Chen Yan, clad in black armor, follows behind. Li Zhouwei has grown taller; the two are nearly the same height now. Chen Yan's expression is unreadable, simply trailing in silence. Once they reach the steps before the hall, he dutifully waits outside, allowing Li Zhouwei to enter alone.

Li Chengliao sits above, reading a letter. Seeing the youth approach, he smiles and says:

"Wei'er, you have come."

Li Zhouwei's cultivation is at Fetal Breathing fourth layer. The Li family, unlike most direct lineages, has not sent him up the mountain, but rather keeps him cultivating in the Central Hall. He seems little seen in cultivation; a few days prior, he secluded himself for several days and broke through to Fetal Breathing fourth layer. His cultivation advances, steady and resolute, day by day.

He dons a wolf-fur cloak, cutting a striking figure, and asks:

"How are your eyes now?"

Li Zhouwei sits firmly, answering:

"If I do not act or grow angry, the gold does not show."

"Good."

Li Chengliao cannot fathom how this is achieved, but does not press further. He retrieves a cultivation technique from the table, quietly saying:

"Your uncle Li Xizhi returned home and has procured this pupil technique for you. Take a look."

Li Zhouwei strides forward to accept the cultivation technique, reading the title upon the cover:

"'Great Wengjin Eyes'"

As Li Chengliao said 'take a look', he gently flips through it within the hall:

"In the fifth autumn of Wu Ming, I visited the friend Xuan Dou, met Yang Jinxin, judge of the shadowy Yin Si. We conversed at length, enlightened by darkness and light, never glimpsing the true face—so I devised some pupil techniques, recorded here..."

This preface outlines the technique's origins, followed by thousands of flowing words, chiefly instructing one to temper the gaze with mana, forging a single golden eye—once, in ancient times, achievable in merely twenty years.

It is best to attain a Spiritual Energy called [Evening Radiance Essence], which would greatly shorten the cultivation period. At the end, the signature reads Cuiyan.

Li Zhouwei glances briefly; Li Chengliao quietly remarks:

"I have inquired about this Cuiyan—said to be, in the Wei Country's Zhaoyuan Immortal Mansion, a Golden Core Cultivator of old, styled Shangyao Perfected Lord. This pupil technique is thought to be his early creation, not high in grade, only Third Grade, but enough to conceal your eyes."

Speaking thus, Li Chengliao motions for Li Zhouwei to sit, continuing:

"Only the techniques found within this Cave Heaven hold as detailed a provenance. In contrast, those commonplace South River spells rarely have signatures—most long lost without a trace."

Seeing Li Zhouwei nod, he takes up a book and a jade slip from the desk with hushed voice:

"As for this, it is a halberd technique, obtained overseas by Ancestor Xuanfeng. Originally inscribed in this jade slip—since your Spiritual Sense has yet to awaken, I have transcribed it for you."

"One copy in transcript, one in the original—both are here."

Li Zhouwei accepts it with gentle courtesy, saying:

"Thank you, Father."

He glances at the cover of the halberd technique, which reads:

"'Armor Soul Refining Halberd Technique'"

Li Zhouwei does not rush to open the book within this grand hall. Instead, he changes the topic, speaking:

"I know a little of Da Wei matters, but only scraps and fragments. Do you know how many Perfected Lords there are? Is there any news from home?"

"The family has gleaned some in these years."

Li Chengliao is surprised by his sudden inquiry, answering:

"In ancient times, Golden Cores appeared in the world, Dao Embryos walked at large, the realm vaster than now by several fold, and overseas even more so by dozens of times. Wei Country bore several Perfected Lords: Shangyao Cuiyan, Dongli Cuimu, the Great Ancestor, and Emperor Yuan..."

"Four Perfected Lords."

Li Zhouwei responds; at this, Li Chengliao nods, quietly:

"After Wei's fall, Qi, Liang, Zhao, and Yan followed—each generation of emperors weaker in cultivation. By the end, only Zhao's Emperor Zhaowu remained of Perfected Lord rank. As for now, the dynasties are but regional divisions; there is no longer any so-called immortal country."

Li Zhouwei listens, nodding lightly. Li Chengliao, seeing his thoughtful air and that he does not pursue the matter further, smiles and says:

"Let me introduce someone to you."

As his words fade, a pall of grey Qi stirs beside the hall, sweeping inward to reveal the form of a man in grey attire—his face cold and sinister, one knee bent in salute, rasping:

"Wushao greets the Princely Heir."

Li Zhouwei nods in reply. Li Chengliao says:

"This is Elder Wushao, middle stage of Foundation Establishment, sent by our clan for your protection."

These years, Li Wushao has cultivated at the lake's depths, gathering loyal Qi-cultivation beasts to watch the depths for him, sparing him daily oversight—appearing only as needed. He used to accompany Li Yuexiang, but since Li Xizhi came to fetch his sister, Li Xijun dispatched Wushao down the mountain.

Li Zhouwei bids him rise; Wushao offers a crisp bow, silent, soon melting into the shadows of the hall's corners. The youth scrutinizes him briefly, then lifts his gaze to Li Chengliao, asking:

"It seems there are family matters being arranged."

"Indeed."

Li Chengliao replies:

"You grow older; when Uncle Yuanping was your age, he had already assumed the family seat. You, too, possess the Mingyang bloodline, scarce in our lineage—surely destined to steward the clan in time."

"I plan to select a place within Shanyue; you will take men and horses there. It fits you well to cultivate halberd technique, and when the time comes, you will be made to shed blood."

Such is always the Li family's tradition of succession. Neither father nor son shows any disquiet. Li Zhouwei nods, stows the items within his sleeve, ready to depart—when Li Chengliao suddenly calls him back.

That youth, draped in wolf-fur and radiating bold charm from his brow, smiles and softly says:

"After much deliberation, the family has decided to follow the old example—not to name you by your surname, but to bestow a Dao title... or rather, a feudal title."

Li Zhouwei raises his brow, intrigued; a slyness flickers at the corners of his eyes as he smiles and asks:

"What Dao title has the family chosen?"

Li Chengliao beams, laughing heartily, then carefully writes two characters upon paper, lifting it gently as he answers:

"Minghuang."

Li Zhouwei narrows his eyes, hand on his sword, chin dipped lightly.

The expression on his face is less one of satisfaction, more like the serene repose of a wild beast having found a fitting den.

"Mm."

The youth laughs, the sound resonating with his eyes' glow. Within the great hall, peony fragrance gradually suffuses the air, interlaced with the swish of fluttering wings.

"Weng weng weng..."

The golden morning sun races even faster up the stone steps, winding like a serpent leaping onto the great hall; its brilliance grows ever brighter, dazzling, so that Chen Yan outside the hall cannot open his eyes to the light.