Keep Your Head Down

Heaven Dou City

Li Hanche lifted the carriage curtain and glanced outside. He had only been gone for a few days, yet the city had suddenly become unfamiliar.

It was not the city that had changed. It was him.

Xue Qinghe sat across from him, his gaze resting on the street scene outside the window as it gradually darkened. Then he suddenly spoke.

"Keep your first soul ring a secret for now."

"Heaven Dou City is a mixed bag—Spirit Hall's spies, scouts from the major sects, and those nobles who appear obedient on the surface while scheming God knows what behind the scenes. A six-year-old child with a first soul ring of two thousand one hundred years... once that news gets out, it won't bring admiration. It'll bring trouble. Keep a low profile."

Li Hanche looked at Xue Qinghe, opened his mouth, and furrowed his brow slightly.

"Big Brother, my strength won't allow me to keep a low profile."

Seeing the earnest look on Li Hanche's face, Xue Qinghe suddenly felt a powerful urge to reach out and cover the little brat's mouth. But he held himself back.

"What's there to fear? My big brother is Xue Qinghe, Crown Prince of the Heaven Dou Empire. Who would dare touch me?"

The carriage fell silent.

Xue Qinghe raised a hand and covered his forehead.

His fingertips pressed against his temple, rubbing it twice.

He recalled their first meeting. The child had stood in the awakening chamber of the Martial Soul Temple, his eyes red-rimmed, cautious and timid—an orphan living under another's roof, terrified of being disliked.

At that moment, Xue Qinghe had been satisfied.

An orphan with peerless talent and a grateful heart was the easiest kind of chess piece to hold in one's palm.

But over the past few days, "Brother Qinghe" had turned into the crisp, straightforward "Big Brother."

It came more and more naturally, as if they had grown up together wearing split-crotch pants.

On the journey back from the Far North, the words "Big Brother" had rung in his ears no fewer than eighty times, if not a hundred.

When he was hungry, he called Big Brother. When he was thirsty, he called Big Brother. When his wounds hurt, he called Big Brother. Even when he saw a Far North snow rabbit run past, he had to call out, "Big Brother, look."

Xue Qinghe had lived for over twenty years, yet no one had ever called him Big Brother this many times.

Something had changed. He could not say what it was, but it had indeed changed.

He lowered the hand covering his forehead and looked at Li Hanche.

That face wore the utterly justified expression of "I have a big brother, so who am I afraid of?" It made one want to curse him, yet the words would not come out. Forget it. Let him be.

"Hurry home. I've listened to you call me Big Brother for days, and the more I hear it, the more annoyed I get. I don't want to see you for the next few days."

By the time Li Hanche was chased off the carriage, night had fully fallen.

A few days later, Heaven Dou Imperial Junior Academy.

Li Hanche stood at the academy gates and looked up at the gilded plaque above them.

He had only been gone for a little over half a month, yet this place felt as unfamiliar as something from a past life.

He had not come here to attend classes. He was already level fifteen; sitting in a classroom and listening to lessons designed for children with six or seven levels of soul power was simply a waste of time.

He had come because there was still something unfinished.

He found Zhao Mengran in the corridor during the break.

Zhao Mengran was standing by the railing with several lackeys, talking about something as he swung a jade pendant back and forth in his hand. His voice could be heard from halfway down the corridor.

Li Hanche walked up to him.

Zhao Mengran's words stopped short. He first froze, then that grin that made people's teeth itch spread across his face.

"Well, if it isn't our great genius? You've been gone so long, I thought you'd dropped out—"

"Cut the crap. Come with me."

Li Hanche interrupted him, then turned and headed behind the teaching building.

Zhao Mengran was momentarily stunned by those three words. Then he gave a mocking laugh, signaled to his lackeys with his eyes, and swaggered after him.

Behind the teaching building was a small clearing enclosed by shrubs. Li Hanche walked to its center and turned around.

Zhao Mengran followed in with three lackeys, arms folded across his chest and chin tilted slightly upward.

"What, want to fight?"

"Don't say I'm bullying you. Someone who crawled out of the slums like you, and still doesn't even have a soul ring—"

His words cut off abruptly.

Li Hanche raised his right hand, and with a slight stir of thought—

A purple soul ring suddenly rose from beneath his feet, slowly revolving around his body.

Zhao Mengran's face went deathly pale.

Behind him, one of the three lackeys instinctively took a step back. The back of his head struck a shrub branch, making him bare his teeth in pain, yet he did not dare make a sound.

It was not as though they had never seen a thousand-year soul ring before. Some of the academy's instructors were Soul Ancestor-level; only their third soul rings were at the thousand-year level.

But that was a third soul ring. This slum orphan before him had a thousand-year soul ring as his first.

It was not that faint purple, but a dense violet so rich it seemed almost tangible.

Its color was even deeper than the instructor's third soul ring.

What did that mean? It meant this soul ring had a higher age than the instructor's third soul ring.

Zhao Mengran's lips trembled.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to say, "That's impossible." He wanted to say, "You cheated." He wanted to say, "How could anyone's first soul ring be a thousand-year one?"

But all those words clogged his throat, and he could not force out a single one.

Because that purple soul ring was slowly revolving right in front of him. It was real—every wisp of soul power fluctuation told him it was real.

Li Hanche looked at Zhao Mengran's deathly pale face, at his trembling lips, at the fear he could not hide in his pupils. Then he stepped forward, raised his right hand, and slapped him across the face.

Smack.

Crisp and clean.

Zhao Mengran's head snapped to one side, and a red mark swiftly rose on his left cheek.

He seemed to have been stunned senseless by the blow, keeping his head tilted to the side, his eyes wide and round, his pupils full of bewilderment.

Li Hanche backhanded him with another slap.

Smack.

Zhao Mengran's head was knocked to the other side, and a red mark rose on his right cheek as well.

The two red marks sat symmetrically on his fair, tender cheeks, like two stamps pressed onto them.

"See that? From now on, when you see me, Li Hanche, lower your head and learn how to behave."

With that, he withdrew his soul ring. The violet radiance receded into his body, and the temperature in the clearing slowly began to rise again.

He turned around, walked around the clump of bushes, and headed toward the academy gates.

The four youths stood where they were like four wooden posts. No one spoke. No one moved.

Zhao Mengran's eyes brimmed with tears, his lips quivered, and both cheeks burned with pain.

He was not crying from the pain. He was crying from fright.

As Li Hanche walked out through the academy gates, his steps suddenly slowed.

He savored the scene just now: Zhao Mengran's pale face, his trembling lips, the two symmetrical red marks on his cheeks, and the way those three lackeys had stood frozen like chickens with their necks wrung, not daring to move an inch.

He savored the tone he had used when he said, "From now on, when you see me, Li Hanche, lower your head and learn how to behave." Steady—not too loud or too soft, neither hurried nor slow—carrying the calm ease of someone who had never placed the other party in his eyes at all.

The corner of his mouth curled up. So this was acting tough and slapping faces?

It did feel a little satisfying.

He stood on the steps outside the academy gates and looked back at the campus where he had spent only a few days.

He was already level fifteen. There really was no point staying here.

His classmates were still learning how to properly circulate soul power, while he could already fight a two-thousand-year soul beast to the death.

The instructors were still explaining the theoretical limits of soul ring ages, while he had already trampled that limit beneath his feet.

He turned around and walked toward the villa.

Qingluo and Baiwei were airing laundry in the courtyard. Hearing the gate open, they turned their heads and froze.

The young master had only left that morning, saying he was going to take a look at the academy, yet he had returned in less than an hour. Before they could even ask, Li Hanche spoke.

"I won't be going to the academy anymore."

As he walked into the house, he undid the buttons at his collar.

"Help me get ready. We'll continue training this afternoon. I've fallen behind these past few days, so I need to make up for it."

His voice carried an eager impatience.

Qingluo and Baiwei exchanged a glance.

"Sister Qingluo, don't you feel like..."

"Like what?"

"After the young master came back, he seems... more spirited?"

"Go get the whip."

She turned and walked into the house.

"You can use a little more force today."