In the wide space of the Li Family dojo, sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting sharp lines across the polished wooden floor. A faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of sweat and aged timber.
For the past week, Li Tianlei and his grandfather had been working through various sword styles. Though this world lacked formal names for them, Tianlei, thanks to his past life on Earth, recognized their underlying philosophies.
Back on Earth, he had been a martial arts enthusiast. Inspired by movies like Ong-Bak and Ip Man, he had enrolled in the nearest martial arts dojo he could find, a Taekwondo school. At the time, he had just begun understanding the large inheritance left to him by his deceased parents. His legal guardian, struggling to restrain him, eventually had no choice but to comply with his growing independence.
He threw himself into martial arts, eventually competing in amateur kickboxing and MMA tournaments throughout his early to late teens. He didn't win every match, but he won enough to be considered a rising star, someone with limitless potential. Multiple gyms reached out, eager to recruit him for further training. But he wasn't in it for fame or money, so he never went pro. Not that he needed the money anyway. He had more than enough to buy every one of those gyms combined without even putting a dent in his assets.
Anyway, after earning a black belt in Taekwondo, he began to branch out, training in traditional boxing, Karate, jiu-jitsu, and more. His foundation grew deeper, his understanding broader with each passing year.
So when it came time to choose a sword style in this world, he approached it methodically.
After some trial and error, they settled on Iaido as his core style. It felt natural. Iaido focused on the explosive draw, precise timing, and ending a fight with a single stroke, all of which complemented his Lightning element perfectly. But both he and his grandfather knew that solely relying on that particular style was dangerous. Lightning was fast and violent, but real battles were rarely clean. What if the first strike failed? What if he were disarmed? He needed a fallback.
They tested several alternatives, drawing from Li Qing's vast experience. In the end, they narrowed it down to two supplementary styles, one fluid and reactive, the other sharp and aggressive. On Earth, Tianlei would've called them Aiki-ken and Kenjutsu. In this world, they had no names, only principles handed down from one swordsman to another.
Li Qing had woven all three approaches into Tianlei's daily training. After a few days of fine-tuning, he believed Tianlei had grasped the fundamentals and could refine them further through actual combat. In Li Qing's eyes, his grandson was a prodigious sword talent.
But only Tianlei knew the truth.
Without the subtle guidance of the stone tablet, quiet corrections, slight adjustments, and invisible hints, his progress wouldn't have been nearly as fast. Every rep, every stance, every breath had been shaped not just by Li Qing but by the mysterious artifact embedded in his sea of consciousness.
Now, Tianlei stood ten meters away from his grandfather, ready for his first sparring match since beginning sword training about a week ago. The distance was standard, just outside the striking range, yet close enough for a sudden burst. His posture was upright, composed, but his focus was razor-sharp. At his hip, a wooden practice sword shaped like a katana rested in its sheath.
Li Qing stood across from him, arms relaxed at his sides, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Whenever you're ready," Li Qing said, his tone calm and gentle.
Tianlei inhaled slowly, grounding himself. Then, with practiced ease, he stepped forward, channeling Qi into the soles of his feet. The world around him sharpened, colors crisper, sounds clearer, as spiritual energy surged through his body. Then, he exploded forward.
The wooden mat cracked beneath his feet as he launched himself across the dojo. In less than a heartbeat, he closed the distance. His hand blurred, drawing the practice sword in a single fluid motion and slashing diagonally toward Li Qing's chest.
Clack!
Li Qing's wooden sword moved like a whisper of wind, intercepting the blow with perfect timing. He didn't shift his stance, just lifted his arm with mechanical ease, letting the angle absorb the force. In the same breath, he countered with a swift horizontal strike aimed at Tianlei's side.
Tianlei's instincts screamed at him, telling him to step back. So, he didn't think much and just moved. His feet slid back, and he twisted his torso sharply. The incoming blow sliced cleanly through the air just inches from his chest. A clean dodge, reflexive, unplanned, but precise.
Li Qing's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise and delight, lighting up his face. However, the match wasn't over.
Tianlei stepped in again, driving his wooden blade forward toward Li Qing's shoulder. The old swordsman leaned left with a smooth pivot, letting the thrust pass harmlessly by. Then, in one effortless motion, his blade flicked upward in a tight arc, smacking Tianlei's wrist with a sharp crack.
Tianlei winced, the pain forcing his hand open, and his sword clattered to the floor. If that had been a real weapon, he would've lost his hand.
He took a step back, exhaling sharply, eyes narrowing. "I thought I'd last longer than that…"
Li Qing smiled, stepping forward and placing the tip of his sword gently on the ground.
"You did better than I expected," he said, voice filled with warmth. "Especially that dodge. Your body moved before your mind caught up. That's instinct, a rare thing in a young, inexperienced fighter, very rare."
Tianlei looked down, frustrated but thoughtful.
"But," Li Qing continued, his tone shifting into that of a teacher, "you made one major mistake."
Tianlei looked up.
"You aimed for the chest."
The boy blinked. "Isn't that a vital area?"
Li Qing shook his head slowly. "Not for you and your sword style." He paused, looked at his grandson, and continued. "Iaido is about ending a battle in one motion, one flash of lightning, one strike. If you're going to commit to a draw, aim somewhere that ends the fight: the neck, the heart, or any other deadly, vulnerable spot. You don't swing to injure, you slash to end."
Tianlei nodded slowly.
"And remember," Li Qing added, lifting the sword again and resting it on his shoulder, "a duel between two swordsmen isn't just about speed or power. It's a chess match. You don't take every opening you see."
"Why not?" Tianlei asked.
"Because some openings," Li Qing said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "are traps, bait, meant to lure you into overcommitting so the opponent can give you a fatal blow."
He took a few slow steps across the mat, gesturing with his free hand as he spoke.
"A real swordsman doesn't just strike. He feints, plays with rhythm, and deliberately exposes himself to draw the enemy's blade. And then, when the moment is right, he punishes them for it."
He stopped, turning to face Tianlei again.
"Every exchange is a puzzle. Every movement speaks. Fighting, whether with fists or swords or spells, is like chess. You must think beyond the next move."
Tianlei lowered his head slightly, absorbing every word. Seeing him like that, Li Qing smiled again, more softly this time. "But you have a lot of potential. You're already thinking without thinking. Now, we just need to sharpen your blade and your mind."
After the little lecture, the two sparred again.
With each round, Tianlei adapted and improved. The stone tablet in his mind would replay the movements after every session, pointing out flaws, moments where he hesitated, and the problems in his footwork he hadn't noticed. It was like having a second master that was cold, precise, and brutally honest during film sessions. All his problems would be exposed, and he would try to correct them during the next spar.
By the end of the day's training, Tianlei could exchange up to ten moves with Li Qing before being disarmed. It wasn't much, considering his grandfather wasn't even using 1% of his strength, but the progress was real.
After cleaning up, Tianlei walked back to the compound, muscles sore but heart steady. He showered, changed into a fresh robe, and cultivated for about an hour to recover a little bit of strength before heading out again.
By the time he finally made it to the barns, the morning sun had already shifted to early afternoon. His father stood near one of the outer pens, brushing down a massive Ironcloud Ox that looked more like a small hill than a cow. Around him, rows of pens and enclosed sheds buzzed softly with the quiet sounds of breathing beasts, rustling hay, and the occasional snort or low growl.
"You're late," Li Qianhu said without looking up. His tone wasn't sharp, but it left no room for excuses.
"I trained two extra hours with grandpa," Tianlei said as he approached, brushing hay from his sleeve. "Then, cultivated for another hour after that."
Qianhu paused for a moment, then turned around slowly. "You cultivated after training?"
Tianlei nodded, unsure of what reaction to expect. "Yeah. I thought I could squeeze in an extra hour."
His father frowned. "Don't do that again. Not after hard training."
"Why?"
"Because cultivation exhausts the mind," Li Qianhu explained. "It doesn't leave you sore like physical training does, but it drains the spirit. Every cultivator will feel mentally fatigued after each session. That's why they usually limit themselves to around eight hours a day, as any more, and they risk damaging their sea of consciousness. The damage isn't immediate, but it accumulates. You won't notice until it's already too late."
Hearing that, Tianlei blinked, uncertain how to respond. That… wasn't his experience at all. Whenever he cultivated, he didn't feel drained; he felt invigorated. His thoughts would grow sharper, his body lighter, his senses more vivid. It was like waking from the deepest, most restful sleep, not dragging himself through exhaustion. The idea of damage, of strain, felt completely foreign to him.
He was about to say as much, but then hesitated. 'Maybe it's the tablet,' he thought. 'It's probably helping me in a way I can't explain yet.'
So instead of speaking up, he lowered his head. "Got it. I'll be more careful."
Qianhu didn't press further. He reached over and ruffled Tianlei's hair roughly. "Good. Now, come on. Let me show you around properly."
They walked between the barns, and Tianlei followed his father past rows of enclosures and feeding troughs. The smell was pungent: warm hay, damp fur, and the thick iron scent that always came from beasts with spiritual energy.
"These aren't just animals," Qianhu began, tapping the wooden fence of the nearest pen. "All of them are Stage 1 monsters. A stage 1 monster is the equivalent of a Qi-refining cultivator. You might not think much of it now, but any one of them is stronger than you at the moment and could kill you before you could even know what happened."
At those words, The Ironcloud Ox snorted, thick steam puffing from its nostrils as it watched them cautiously. It didn't move, though. None of them did.
"They're tame enough for breeding and raising," Qianhu continued, "but don't mistake them for harmless. They remember the wild. The only reason they stay this calm is because they know I can kill them before they even take a step."
Tianlei nodded silently, eyes flicking from pen to pen.
"We raise seven types of beasts. You'll need to remember them all," Qianhu said, counting off on his fingers.
"Ironcloud Oxen. They produce good meat and strong hide. They come from an evolved line of mortal cows. A newborn reaches adulthood in about five years. We keep around a hundred of them.
Jadewool Lambs come next. Docile and fast-growing, much like sheep. A lamb grows into an adult in just one year. We have about two hundred.
Then there are the Stoneback Boars. Tough, aggressive, and full of high-fat meat. Comparable to pigs. They also take a year to reach maturity. We keep roughly one hundred eighty of them.
Fireplum Hens are another important group. Fast egg layers and decent for low-grade spirit meat. Similar to chickens. We keep thousands of them, and they grow the fastest out of everything in the barn.
Moonlake Ducks serve a similar purpose. Their meat is richer in flavor. Just think of ducks, and you're close.
Moonfang Hares multiply quickly, though their growth rate lags behind the hens and ducks. They're comparable to rabbits, and we also raise them in large numbers.
And finally, the Windstep Stallions."
They stopped in front of a long, covered stable. Elegant horses with silver coats and shimmering manes paced quietly inside. Their hooves touched the ground with near silence.
"They're the pride of our barn. We don't raise them for meat. These are trained for travel. A single Windstep Stallion can fetch four hundred Qi-stones in the market."
Tianlei gave a low whistle. In the cultivation world, four hundred Qi-stones equaled three to four years of hard work for a typical rogue cultivator.
"We could raise more of every type," Qianhu said, glancing across the rows of sheds. "We have the land, the feed, and the breeding stock. But only three people in the family handle them. That limits our capacity."
He gave Tianlei a sideways look and a smirk. "So grow up fast. Have a few kids while you're at it."
Tianlei rolled his eyes. "That's the third time you've said that this week."
"Only three?" Qianhu chuckled. "Looks like I've been lazy."
They left the barns and walked toward a side building made of dark wood and reinforced stone. Thick doors stood at the front, with no windows in sight.
"This is the warehouse," Qianhu said as he pushed the doors open.
The air inside felt cool and dry. Heavy shelves stood in rows, stacked with sealed crates. A few glowing crystals gave off light and kept the space temperature-controlled.
"Tomorrow, I'm heading to Hongye City," Qianhu continued. "I'll deliver this shipment to your aunt and some of our clients. She'll manage the sales. On the way back, I'll pick up supplies for the family."
Tianlei watched in silence for a while. Then he spoke. "How much do we make from all this? I mean, in a year."
Qianhu paused, one hand still holding a ring against a crate of Moonfang hides. A smile began to form on his face.
"In raw numbers, we stay small. Most Foundation Establishment families in Yunzhou and across the Jinghai province have bigger operations."
He glanced over his shoulder, his grin spreading wider.
"But when it comes to wealth? If we say we're the second richest Foundation family in the province, no more than two others would dare claim the top spot."