A Cheap Teacher

He did not even look at options two and three.

There was no need. Having a spear technique was enough.

The moment he made his decision, his body had already moved.

He rose from his seat and faced Sword Douluo.

Sweeping aside his robe hem, he dropped to both knees.

His forehead struck the white jade floor of the hall with a crisp knock.

"Master above, accept this disciple's bow."

Three movements, completed in one smooth breath—without the slightest hesitation or dragging of feet.

The hall fell silent once more.

This time, the silence was even stranger than when he had said, "Big Brother, you don't want me anymore."

Bone Douluo finally brought the teacup he had been holding in midair to his lips, but forgot to drink.

Ning Fengzhi's hand holding the teacup froze. His gaze shifted from Li Hanche to Xue Qinghe, then from Xue Qinghe back to Li Hanche.

Ning Rongrong stood with her little mouth agape, her dark, gleaming eyes opened wide and round.

Sword Douluo looked at the child kneeling before him.

That whole speech he had prepared—about a master's responsibilities, about the resources the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect could provide—had not even left his mouth.

Yet the child had already knelt.

A Titled Douluo, Chen Xin of the sword path, accepting a disciple for the first time in his life—he had prepared a deeply moving speech for taking on a disciple, and did not get to use a single word of it.

"Good."

Something in his voice trembled faintly.

"Good child. Rise."

Li Hanche straightened and returned to his chair. His expression was so calm, as though nothing had happened.

Xue Qinghe looked at Li Hanche's profile.

That "Big Brother, you don't want me anymore" still echoed in his ears, circling until his head hurt.

Then this little brat had not even waited for his response before directly kneeling to take a master.

So what exactly had that sentence meant? Did he truly hate to part with him as a big brother, or had he merely asked it in passing?

Ning Rongrong ran over from beside Ning Fengzhi's knees and stopped in front of Li Hanche. With her hands on her hips, she raised her little face to look at him.

"You're Sword Grandpa's disciple now! Sword Grandpa's disciple is my little brother!"

Li Hanche glanced at her.

"Call me Big Brother."

"Little brother!"

"Big Brother."

"Little brother, little brother, little brother!"

"Big Brother, Big Brother, Big Brother."

In the hall, Ning Fengzhi lifted his teacup and calmly lowered his head for a sip.

Bone Douluo burst into booming laughter, his voice like a great bell, making even the glazed pillars hum and vibrate.

Sword Douluo sat in his chair, watching the child who had just finished kneeling before him turn around and squabble with Ning Rongrong. The curve of his lips simply would not go down.

So what if the disciple-taking speech went unused? The disciple had already bowed to him.

Xue Qinghe lightly tapped the rim of his cup with a fingertip.

Watching the profiles of Li Hanche and Ning Rongrong bickering back and forth, he suddenly felt that bringing this little brat to the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect might have been a mistake.

The carriage rumbled away from the mountain gate of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

Inside the carriage, Li Hanche lowered his head, turning a ring over and over between his fingers.

It was impossible to tell what metal the ring was made of. It was silver-gray.

"A gift for taking a master."

Li Hanche put the ring on the index finger of his left hand. It automatically shrank to fit perfectly.

Inside the ring, a card lay quietly in one corner—a gold soul coin card.

The face of the card bore the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's seven-colored pagoda emblem. A line of small characters was engraved in the lower right corner: one million. A gift from Ning Fengzhi.

Xue Qinghe's voice came from across from him.

"You were quite quick to take a master."

His gaze fell upon the ring on Li Hanche's finger, and it was impossible to tell whether his tone was teasing or something else.

"Not a shred of hesitation."

Li Hanche raised his head, still pinching the ring between his fingers, his expression utterly unchanged.

"Big Brother, he's a free teacher. No reason not to take him."

Xue Qinghe's eyelid twitched.

A free teacher. The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's guardian Douluo, the continent's foremost swordmaster, a level ninety-six Titled Douluo—Sword Douluo Chen Xin.

Yet in his mouth, he was merely a "free teacher."

"With that many people watching, could I refuse him? I don't want to make an enemy of a Titled Douluo."

Xue Qinghe looked at him, his lips moving faintly.

So you knelt and took him as your master not because you wanted that teacher, but because you were afraid of offending him?

He suddenly felt that if Sword Douluo heard those words, the Seven Kill Sword that had accompanied him his entire life might fly from its sheath on the spot.

In the end, he said nothing. He merely leaned against the carriage wall and closed his eyes.

After returning to Heaven Dou City, Li Hanche's days settled into a different rhythm.

Early morning, before dawn.

On the rooftop, he sat in meditation. The soul power of the Frost Heaven Record circulated slowly through his meridians, while the chill he had brought back from the Far North settled within his dantian, compressing and purifying.

In the morning, in the courtyard, the Dark Nether Ice Soul Spear danced in his hands, becoming a curtain of icy-blue light.

By afternoon, Qingluo and Baiwei were no longer his opponents.

At first, they had suppressed him. Then they became evenly matched. Now, the tip of his spear stopped three inches from Qingluo's throat.

"Both of you, come at me together. Don't hold back."

Qingluo and Baiwei exchanged a glance.

A moment later, Qingluo's hand-blade struck his shoulder, but its force vanished like a clay ox sinking into the sea.

Baiwei's soft whip wrapped around his ankle. He tensed his calf, and the whip's tip snapped back in reverse, numbing the web between Baiwei's thumb and forefinger.

He stepped forward, sweeping the spear shaft sideways before stopping it an inch from their waists.

The wind from the spear pressed their fluttering clothes tightly against their bodies.

"Still too slow."

"Again."

At night.

Inside his bedroom, he sat cross-legged on the bed.

The spiritual power of the Mind-Clarity and Nature-Seeing Art surged from his sea of consciousness and extended outward—past the courtyard walls, past the streets, past the rooftops of row upon row of houses.

At the edge of his perception, it touched a hazy boundary, like a tide washing onto a beach before meeting a reef somewhere ahead.

That was the current limit of his spiritual power.

He maintained that state without moving, letting his spiritual power batter repeatedly against the boundary of its limit.

Day after day.

Until one afternoon, in the courtyard, Qingluo and Baiwei lay on the ground, their chests heaving violently, their foreheads drenched in sweat.

Their hair buns had come loose, the cuffs of their fitted outfits were torn, and several red marks shaken out by the spear shaft had appeared on the backs of their hands.

Li Hanche stood before them, the Dark Nether Ice Soul Spear resting at his side, his breathing only slightly hurried.

"That'll do."

He bent down and pulled Qingluo and Baiwei to their feet, one on either side.

The two maids watched his back as he turned and entered the room—lean but straight, his shoulders and back a little broader than when he had first arrived.

Qingluo lowered her head and looked at her own hands. The calluses in her palms were thinner than the young master's.

She had trained in martial arts for over a decade, yet a six-year-old child had surpassed her.

Li Hanche changed into a clean set of clothes and headed for the Heaven Dou Imperial Palace.

In the study of the Crown Prince's residence, Xue Qinghe held a memorial in his hand, his gaze falling on the uninvited figure at the doorway.

Li Hanche did not waste time on pleasantries either.

"Big Brother, do me a favor."

Xue Qinghe set down the memorial.

"Speak."

"I want to fight in the Soul Arena."

Xue Qinghe lightly tapped a finger against the desk.

"The Great Soul Arena?"

"Mm."

"Why?"

Li Hanche answered without the slightest hesitation.

"Real combat. Qingluo and Baiwei are no longer enough for me to fight. I need stronger opponents."

Xue Qinghe looked at him and said, "Do you know what kind of place the Great Soul Arena is? There, age and status mean nothing—only victory and defeat. Deaths and injuries are common. You're only six years old..."

"Big Brother."

Li Hanche cut him off.

"I killed my first soul ring with my own hands."