Chapter 26: The Bedding Ran Off on Its Own

"Very well." Seeing Li Yuer say this, Ling’er’s mother hesitated to argue, only worried that Ling’er might disturb them.

Soon after, Ling’er’s mother dragged the drunken Ling’er’s father toward the neighboring courtyard. Li’s mother glanced sharply at Li’s father and said, “Look what you did, got him drunk.”

Li’s father smiled wryly, “I must have grabbed the wrong bottle; that wine was too strong for Ling’er’s father to handle.”

Li Ziyuan sat at the table watching Li Yuer lead Ling’er into her room. Ling’er called out, “Li brother, come quickly, it’s time to sleep!” Li Ziyuan silently resolved that tonight, even if he froze to death sitting here, he would not enter his own room to sleep on the floor.

Li’s mother watched Li Ziyuan sitting motionless at the table and gave him a light tap on the head, reproaching, “Why are you spacing out instead of sleeping?”

Li Ziyuan replied expressionlessly, “Not sleepy. Mother, you should go to bed early.”

Seeing he wouldn’t be persuaded, Li’s mother gave up and entered her room, though her thoughts stirred quietly as she manipulated her water spirit power to make the weather even colder.

Li’s father shook his head and followed her inside.

Inside the room, Ling’er tossed the floor mat out the window. What was this little girl scheming?

Ling’er then dashed out and forcibly pulled Li Ziyuan into the room.

“Come on, Li brother, come in and sleep!”

Li Ziyuan looked around and noticed his floor mat was gone. Ling’er climbed onto Li Yuer’s bed, patted the space, and beckoned Li Ziyuan, “Hurry up and get on. It’s so cold tonight, the three of us should sleep together.”

Li Yuer lay silently at the far end of the bed, her eyes darting about.

Li Ziyuan asked, “Where’s the floor mat?”

Ling’er pointed out the window, “I don’t know how it happened, but the floor mats all jumped out the window by themselves.”

Li Ziyuan was speechless, thinking that Ling’er was truly mischievous. How was he going to get through this night?

Seeing Li Ziyuan still standing there, Ling’er climbed up and stubbornly dragged him to sit at the edge of the bed. “Early to bed and early to rise is good for your health. Come on, quick!”

Li Yuer watched this scene silently, feeling that Li Ziyuan always seemed to avoid her, even somewhat disdainful.

---

Just as Li Yuer was about to get up to fetch a new quilt, Li Ziyuan miraculously lay down on the outer side of the bed. Ling’er, sleeping in the middle, took the initiative to cover them with the quilt.

Li Ziyuan lay there thinking that with Ling’er between them, it wasn’t really unfair to Li Yuer.

The weather suddenly turned strangely cold. By then, the three had long since fallen asleep, instinctively huddling together despite their deep slumber.

That night, Qingyan Village was draped in a white veil of snow.

Li’s mother smiled bitterly to herself, “You little rascal, you want to fight me!”

The next day.

At noon, the blazing sun filled the land with vitality.

In the southeastern region of Yunqi Kingdom, West State, Canglan Continent, atop a mountain peak stood four or five somewhat dilapidated buildings. A plaque above the door bore three bold characters: “Feng Ling Sect.”

The sect grounds were overrun with weeds and in disarray, hardly what one would expect of a cultivation sect. A disheveled, red-haired humanoid beast gnawed on tree bark, leaving one puzzled whether it was man or spirit, and why it was chewing on bark.

(Who was this red-haired boy, and why was he gnawing on bark?)

In stark contrast, Qingyan Village lay beneath a blanket of snow. Children played snowball fights at their doorsteps, carving patterns in the snow that resembled a natural, dynamic swirl.

The village elder looked dazed. “This snow came much earlier than usual.”

In the mountain behind Qingyan Village, familiar figures remained visible. Li Ziyuan moved faster than before, shifting his attacks toward Li’s father.

However, Li’s father easily blocked each blow. Suddenly, he increased his speed and struck Li Ziyuan’s abdomen with a punch. Li Ziyuan winced in pain, dropped to his knees, and clenched his teeth with one eye tightly shut. The blow had drained his strength.

Li’s father said, “When facing an enemy, your strikes must be swift, precise, and ruthless. Otherwise, you’ll end up kneeling before them like you are now.”

With a casual wave, Li’s father produced a large iron sword, black and red in color, about a meter long and broad in shape. The sword’s hilt was styled with intricate contours that gave it a striking appearance. “This is a sword meant to intimidate, called Tiger’s Roar. Take a look.”

Li Ziyuan felt no spiritual power from the sword but sensed something unique about it.

When he drew the sword from its scabbard, the blade was pure black, adorned with dazzling red patterns. Surprisingly, the blade was still sealed.

Li’s father chuckled, “Confused, aren’t you, Ziyuan? This sword seems ordinary and yet not ordinary—ordinary yet extraordinary.”

Li Ziyuan was indeed baffled and asked what he meant. Li’s father swung Tiger’s Roar at a rock, and a golden blade of energy whooshed out, slicing the rock in two as easily as cutting tofu.

Li’s father tossed the sword to Li Ziyuan and said, “If you’re strong enough, the weapon doesn’t matter. Even a stick can strike with great power.”

He picked up a stick and challenged Li Ziyuan, “I wonder if you, with your weak strength, can break this stick.”

Li Ziyuan refused to believe it. Even if the big iron sword was still sealed, it was ridiculous to think he couldn’t break a simple stick.

He swung the light iron sword at Li’s father, who at that instant infused the stick with pure spiritual power, altering its nature.

The stick collided with the iron sword, knocking Li Ziyuan back several steps. From that strike, Li Ziyuan realized his father was right: strength made any weapon formidable.

Li Ziyuan began experimenting, channeling fire spirit power into the sword. He swung it toward a large tree, and a yellow blade of energy detached from the sword, splitting the tree in half at its waist.

Li’s father watched approvingly, “Good, Ziyuan. You’re starting to grasp the essence from my moves. But this is far from enough. In the future, you’ll need to channel spiritual power into every inch of the sword, fusing spirit and steel completely. This demands extreme control over your spiritual power. When you reach the pinnacle, you can freely shape your spiritual energy into pure, hardened weapons. Like this.”

With that, Li’s father summoned his spiritual power, condensing it continuously until a golden iron sword, identical in shape to the big iron sword, appeared. It radiated golden spiritual energy and glowed with a halo.

This sword, formed entirely from condensed spiritual power, fascinated Li Ziyuan. He thought, this is the method of the strong.

Li’s father simply demonstrated, then dissipated the golden sword, the spiritual energy silently returning to his body.