The swords collided. Sword Qi shattered upon impact, scattering into fragments that tore through the surrounding tables, chairs, and walls.
Amidst the rain of sword Qi fragments stood Zhong Mo. His clothes were torn and frayed, but his skin—firm and unyielding—remained untouched.
His sword pointed diagonally downward, left hand resting on his belt. His eyes locked firmly onto Li Hao, who stood across from him.
Li Hao stood with his shoulders back, sword hanging at his side, hair swaying in the wind stirred up by their clash.
His grip on his sword tightened as he stared intently at Zhong Mo.
"Kid, you got lucky," Zhong Mo said coldly, "but luck only takes you so far."
Zhong Mo stepped in, raising his sword above his opposite shoulder. He swung in a Half-Moon Slash—a precise, crescent-shaped strike.
Black Sword Qi surged forward with 51.2 MN of force, distorting the air around the blade's edge.
Li Hao dashed forward, executing a Redirection Parry—not stopping the attack, but guiding its force away.
The redirected strike crashed into the wall behind him, cleaving a wide, gaping gash.
Li Hao stepped in, rooting his feet into the ground. He pulled his sword back, eyes locked on Zhong Mo.
"Enlightened Sword Art, Third Form – Piercing Sky."
A lightning-fast thrust aimed directly at a vital point. Its speed left no room for reaction.
Li Hao struck.
Sword Qi bloomed along the blade's edge, shimmered for an instant—then split and shot forward like a silver flash tearing through the air.
Before Zhong Mo could react, sharp pain lanced through his abdomen. He looked down to see a blade of white Sword Qi piercing through him.
Falling to one knee, he stabbed his sword into the ground to support himself. "Cough, cough..." Blood spilled from his mouth, his body weakening.
Li Hao approached slowly. Each soft step calmed the spiritual Qi still vibrating from his earlier strike.
Zhong Mo looked up, struggling to lift his head. "You... who are... you?" he whispered, voice barely audible.
Li Hao looked down at the old man, his voice soft, serene.
"My name... you may call me the Stellar Void Master."
He raised his sword and brought it down in a Descending Slash—a vertical cut from above.
Zhong Mo was decapitated.
Li Hao sheathed his sword and surveyed the shattered room. He walked to the broken glass windows and leapt out.
Knock, knock.
Several minutes later, a knock echoed through the door.
After a moment, it opened slowly.
A young man stepped in—small in stature, wearing a cheap brown robe with short sleeves.
He froze.
His eyes first landed on the broken windows, the shattered glass, and the deep slash carved into the wall.
Then he looked down.
Zhong Mo's headless body rested on one knee, supported by his sword. His severed neck stood like a grim pedestal, the head lying beside him.
The young man nearly vomited. He stumbled out, running to fetch the elders.
Li Hao walked calmly through the lamplit streets. His black robe had turned white again—his long-sleeved outer robe adorned with cloud-mist patterns and an asymmetrical overlay.
He adjusted his Arm Guards—light bracers—and his Belt with Ornament, a thick sash adorned with metallic decorations.
Beneath the moonlight, he walked with serenity, unbothered by the dangers that prowled the night. Not even minutes ago, he had killed two men—yet not a trace of unease showed on his face.
Suddenly, smoke rose into the sky ahead, in the middle of a bustling town.
Li Hao glanced at it—but did not stop. It was on his path anyway. If it hadn't been, he wouldn't have bothered.
He continued forward without changing pace.
Soon, he reached the site.
A burned-down house stood in the middle of town, walls crumbling, the roof still aflame.
In front of the ruins knelt a young girl, around four or five years old. Her hair flowed freely in Immortal Style—long and loose, cascading down her back. It shifted in color from white to pink, darkening as it descended.
Her eyes were pure white—emotionless, empty.
She wore a simple blue robe adorned with pristine river patterns. She knelt, eyes fixed on the fire, unmoving.
Her mind had yet to catch up with what had just happened. To her, it was all distant noise.
Li Hao's gaze swept over the girl, then the ruins. Inside the burning house, two charred bodies lay motionless, unrecognizable.
As he stared, the pieces fell into place.
It was just like how his parents had died.
Not by fate or mistake—but as collateral damage from others' cruelty.
He, too, had been four years old.
Under the bright sunlight, a young Li Hao stood on the steps outside his kindergarten.
He wore short blue pants and a yellow t-shirt. His black hair was just a few centimeters long, his dark eyes curious and wide.
He played with other children, smiling brightly.
Across the street, just beyond the intersection, his parents stood, waiting for the light to turn green.
"Look, honey," his mother said. "Our son ran to the gate to see us. He must be eager to tell us everything."
"Well, let him burn off all that energy now," said Li Tian. "Otherwise, he'll be impossible to manage at home."
The traffic light turned green.
"Okay, let's go," Li Tian said.
They stepped onto the crosswalk.
One step. Two. Three—
CRASH.