What, the Ice Block Is Going to Have a Baby

Li Mo stood there in a daze. He had wanted to ask Ying Bing when she had left the Cloud-Treading Pavilion, only to find her sitting quietly in the hall, devoid of her usual aloofness.

Moreover.

Judging by the pristine smoothness of the oversized doll’s forehead, it was clear Ying Bing had been sitting in the hall for quite some time.

He had assumed she’d gone out…

“Ying Bing, how long have you been sitting here?”

Hearing the voice behind her, Ying Bing turned slightly:

“Not long. I just stepped out of my room for some air and spoke with Sister Qin and Clan Leader Shang. Why did you take so long to return?”

“...Actually, I’ve been back for a while. I was in your room the whole time.”

“...”

“.....”

Ying Bing froze, her fingertips curling slightly.

Li Mo tilted his head at a 45-degree angle, staring up at the Cloud-Treading Pavilion’s ceiling.

For a moment, the hall fell into silence.

Ever the quick thinker, Li Mo coughed lightly to break the tension:

“They’ve all gone back? What did you talk about?”

“Men’s hearts are unfathomable. Some so-called gentlemen appear upright on the surface, yet hide another face behind their backs…” Ying Bing murmured cryptically.

“？？？？”

Li Mo rubbed his nose guiltily.

With every word she spoke, he felt as though another digit of his ID number was being exposed.

Was she talking about him?

It had to be him. After all, among the three of them, the only “gentleman” they all knew was himself.

But wait… he didn’t even dream at night, spending all his time in his little world. How would Sister Qin know?

And Ying Bing definitely couldn’t have found out…

“Just hypothetically, as an outsider… what kind of ‘other face’ are we talking about?”

“A fondness for feet, for instance.”

“.....” Li Mo leaned back slightly. Damn, she really was talking about him.

“But as the saying goes, a gentleman is judged by his actions, not his thoughts. Everyone has their quirks. Those who achieve great things don’t sweat the small stuff—minor preferences are harmless…”

“They were referring to someone from the Great Shang era,” Ying Bing added.

Li Mo paused, his expression shifting from guilt to solemnity. “So those are just sayings. Personally, I advocate for unity of knowledge and action—what one thinks should align with what one does!”

“......”

Watching his stubborn denial, Ying Bing rolled her eyes and stood, lifting her lantern.

In a way, Li Mo wasn’t wrong.

He did practice what he preached—though some of that “knowledge” hadn’t yet been put to use.

According to their mutual theory: if Li Mo was stubborn, she didn’t have to be—at least verbally.

So Li Mo didn’t ask why she claimed she hadn’t waited long when she’d clearly been there the whole time.

And so Ying Bing didn’t tell him that she occasionally glimpsed his “new world” whenever the system doled out punishments.

Half an hour later, Li Mo prepared a late-night snack and, under the pretext of delivering it, rightfully entered Ying Bing’s room.

See? Unity of knowledge and action.

Gentleman Li always kept his word—though occasionally, his hands had minds of their own. That wasn’t his fault.

For instance, when he promised only to massage her feet but found his hands wandering higher…

“Huh… Ying Bing, why does your calf feel longer than your thigh?”

“No one’s calf is longer than their thigh…”

“Really? Maybe I measured wrong. Let me check again.”

...

The days that followed were peaceful.

Everyone set aside distractions and focused on preparing for the second round of the Hidden Dragon Tournament. During this time, Li Mo continued his “investments” (read: opportunistic scheming) among his friends.

He gave Old Xiao two rare treasures beneficial to soul cultivation, helping the old spirit within him recover further.

For Murong Xiao, Li Mo didn’t offer material goods but instead imparted advanced combat techniques.

Murong Xiao was deeply moved, convinced that Li Mo was truly magnanimous. Even though he was no longer a disciple of the Qingyuan Sect, Li Mo disregarded sect biases and shared his knowledge freely.

Li Mo waved it off. “No need for thanks. May all heroes under heaven master the art of combat!”

Murong Xiao gave a thumbs-up.

One could only wonder how the monks of the Suspended Temple would react if they found out.

As for Huang Donglai, Li Mo kept it simple: he threw money at the problem.

Truthfully, he still had no idea how many hidden cards Huang Donglai held or even a full grasp of his martial techniques…

So he just handed over some coins, letting Huang Donglai buy whatever he needed.

With only two days of rest, this was all he could manage.

The feedback from his “investments” yielded plenty of martial insights—unfortunately, most were related to hammer techniques.

As for the Southern King’s military strategies, Li Mo didn’t spend much time on them. He could study those in earnest after the tournament.

On the morning of the third day, the sky was overcast, making it hard to distinguish dawn from dusk. It felt as though a spring rain might fall at any moment—or perhaps it already had.

But the all-encompassing Scroll of Mountains and Rivers ensured not a drop reached the imperial capital.

Returning to the Meridian Gate, Li Mo stood below, gazing up at the yellow imperial decree hanging high above. It bore the names of the Hidden Dragon Tournament’s elite.

Those eliminated would be struck from the list, leaving only three names in the end.

Li Mo couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion.

Only when he saw his own name on that scroll did it feel real.

“Wasn’t this gate traditionally used to post the names of criminals sentenced to execution in autumn?” Zhong Zhenyue scratched his head.

Uncomfortable among the nobles, he’d stuck close to Li Mo.

The surrounding elite competitors glared at them.

Li Mo: “...”

The mood was perfect—until you opened your mouth.

Though honestly, Li Mo would rather Zhong Ling shut up entirely.

“What? The Frost Fairy is already taken? By the Divine Hammer Little Tyrant?”

“What? She’s bearing his child?”

“It’s true! I saw the blood myself!”

“??? Screw this, I’m taking him down! Don’t try to stop me!”

“Hold on! If you charge now and he pulls out his hammer, what then? Wait till you’re on stage!”

So… those hostile glares were actually directed at Li Mo.

Ying Bing lowered her serene eyes, as if oblivious to the whispers around her.

Well, she used to be oblivious.

Before she’d seen a certain gentleman’s “study materials.”

Still, hearing threats against Li Mo, she fixed a frosty gaze on the speaker.

The blue-robed young master who’d vowed to beat Li Mo suddenly lit up with joy.

“The Frost Fairy looked at me!”

“Ning Que, I think she’s calculating how many strikes it’d take to kill you.”

Beside the blue-robed youth stood a white-clad maiden, lively and delicate, eyeing him with undisguised disdain.

“Ning Jue, I told you to call me ‘brother’ in public, not by name.”

“Pfft. As if I’d claim a brother like you.”

Ning Que staggered back as if struck by lightning.

As Shang Qinqing had said, everyone had another side to them.

Since hearing the widely circulated "Heavenly King's Battle-Shattering Melody," Penglai Xingzi had become a devoted admirer of the Frost Fairy. This was hardly surprising—after all, he had long been acknowledged by the divine artifact of the Music Sage, the "Qinghai Echoing Zither," in the Dao of Melody.

At the same time, he was also a doting brother.

"Look closely, Little Overlord—he’s actually quite handsome, more the picture of a noble gentleman than you, Ning Que."

"Tsk... Stop staring. That look in the Frost Fairy’s eyes—doesn’t it feel like you’ve already been slashed a few times by her sword?"

...