Meng Heze’s sword strike was fierce and swift, descending straight down as if to cleave both man and chair in two. An ordinary cultivator would have long tumbled off the recliner and fled for their life.
But Lin Feiyuan was no ordinary cultivator—he was a Golden Core cultivator bold enough to kill Nascent Souls, a man who lived perpetually on the edge of life and death.
Even now, with his Spirit Qi sealed and severe injuries unhealed, his discernment remained sharp.
He sat perfectly still, unshakable as a rock.
The sword edge halted at his neck, slicing through the collar of his robe embroidered with petals.
"Who are you?!" Meng Heze roared.
Lin Feiyuan extended two fingers, lightly tapping the blade: "We were just talking nicely. Why resort to violence? So rude and undisciplined—who taught you such manners?"
Meng Heze’s chest heaved violently.
He felt he could no longer restrain himself, wanting only to cut down this demonic man.
"Xiao Meng."
A soft call suddenly sounded from behind.
"Senior Brother Song!"
Meng Heze withdrew his sword in delighted surprise.
But when he saw Song Qianji actually holding a medicine bowl, his eyes instantly reddened.
I’ve only been gone for a short while—just from autumn to winter, a few snowfalls’ time—and Senior Brother has already been reduced to brewing medicine for others.
"This is Fellow Daoist Lin, temporarily residing in Song Courtyard to recuperate."
Song Qianji’s single sentence instantly cooled Meng Heze’s raging fury. He shot Lin Feiyuan a triumphant look:
Who’s the host and who’s the guest—isn’t it obvious?
You’re just a wounded patient recuperating. I won’t stoop to your level.
Lin Feiyuan lifted the bowl to drink the medicine, deliberately putting on airs: "Tonight’s brew is truly bitter—not as good as the one you prepared at noon."
His tone was melodious, almost theatrical. Meng Heze felt nauseated listening to it.
"Impossible." Song Qianji wondered aloud, "This is the same brew from noon. I just reheated it."
Lin Feiyuan’s face shifted between green and pale before he slammed the bowl down heavily.
"Ha ha ha ha!" Meng Heze burst into uproarious laughter.
After laughing, he couldn’t contain his curiosity: "But I wonder, how did Fellow Daoist Lin here receive his injuries?"
During his sword strike, he had already discerned that this was a Golden Core cultivator with sealed Spirit Qi.
In Thousand-Ditch Prefecture, who would dare inflict such vicious, heavy injuries on a guest of Song Xian Guan?
Song Qianji replied, "I did it."
The courtyard fell into sudden silence. Meng Heze was struck speechless with shock.
Lin Feiyuan abruptly stood up, strode back to his room, and slammed the door shut with force.
Meng Heze laughed wildly, slapping the stone table repeatedly. Serves you right, you demonic show-off!
Song Qianji sat back in his own recliner: "What are you laughing about?"
"I’m happy to see you, Senior Brother. Hearing that you’ve broken through to Nascent Soul makes me even happier."
Song Qianji smiled.
Seeing his good mood, Meng Heze proactively confessed: "This time I was away, I not only brought my family back but also returned with this year’s Outer Sect disciples from Huawel Sect."
Song Qianji’s heart skipped a beat, his smile stiffening: "How many people?"
"All of them."
Song Qianji hugged a small cushion: "I see…"
Meng Heze grew uneasy: "Is Senior Brother unhappy?"
Song Qianji answered honestly: "A little."
Meng Heze immediately admitted fault: "I’m sorry, Senior Brother Song. I know I was wrong."
Song Qianji had once told Meng Heze to do whatever he wanted and not worry about him. Those weren’t empty words.
But this time, he was genuinely somewhat displeased.
Song Qianji asked, "What exactly did you do wrong?"
Meng Heze replied, "I was wrong for returning late. When you were ambushed, I couldn’t be there to protect you, leaving you to face danger alone."
"Wrong." Song Qianji shook his head. "I don’t need protection."
"Then I was wrong for bringing trouble to Thousand Canals. These Outer Sect disciples followed me in betraying the sect. Huawel Sect will inevitably find out and will not let it slide easily. I acted impulsively for heroics—the consequences I brought upon myself, I should resolve myself!"
"Wrong." Song Qianji still shook his head. "I’m not afraid of Huawel Sect either."Meng Heze’s face flushed red, a mix of bitterness and frustration in his voice: "Was I wrong to draw my sword against Fellow Daoist Lin? But he was just too…"
"What does he have to do with it?!" Song Qianji sighed. "Since you brought so many people back, this trip must have been full of unexpected troubles and twists. Your mistake was not sending me a message."
Meng Heze froze. "I… I didn’t want to trouble you, Senior Brother."
Song Qianji said, "If you don’t tell me when something happens, how would I know if you were injured, if you encountered enemies you couldn’t handle, if you had enough talismans with you, or if you had enough money to spend?"
"Senior Brother!" Meng Heze’s eyes reddened, his nose tingling with emotion. "My injuries have already healed!"
Song Qianji stood up. "Wait here."
Left alone in the courtyard, Meng Heze thought, I just got back. Even if I made a mistake, surely Senior Brother Song wouldn’t fetch something to hit me with, would he?
After a moment, he reconsidered: If he really does hit me, then so be it. As long as it helps him vent his anger, taking a couple of hits is nothing.
With a soft clatter, Song Qianji placed something on the stone table.
"Come here."
Meng Heze looked closely—it was a bowl of noodles.
The north wind blew on the winter night, steam rising white from the broth. Under the moonlight and candlelight, the noodles glistened.
The scalding soup warmed him from the inside out.
"Senior Brother."
"This is my first time making noodles. I’m not sure how they taste," Song Qianji said. "Try them."
He had watched others make noodles a few times and always thought it couldn’t be too hard—probably easier than cultivation or farming.
Meng Heze was overjoyed.
"Since you made them yourself, Senior Brother, they must be excellent."
He eagerly picked up his chopsticks to mix the noodles.
But the more he stirred, the murkier the broth became, and the vegetables turned mushy. The noodles broke into pieces, sticking together in a gluey mess.
A sense of foreboding crept into Meng Heze’s heart. He took one bite and nearly shed tears into the bowl.
How could anything taste so strange?
Seeing his expression shift, Song Qianji asked nervously, "Are they not good? If they don’t suit your taste, just throw them away."
Meng Heze hurriedly replied, "They’re delicious! Really delicious!"
Song Qianji reached for the bowl. "Let me try them!"
Panicked, Meng Heze buried his face in the bowl, swallowing the noodles whole—sour, salty, bitter, spicy, sweet, whatever bizarre flavors they had—and held up the spotless empty bowl. "I finished them!"
Song Qianji smiled. "So they really were that good…"
It turns out I’m a culinary genius.
Next time, I’ll make another bowl and let Wei Ping try it too.
…
After the assassination attempt at Thousand Canal Bazaar, the long street was left in disarray.
Houses had collapsed, shops lay in ruins, and everywhere bore the charred marks of spirit qi impacts and explosions—a sight that evoked sighs of regret.
During the day, workers toiled fervently on reconstruction, but at night, when the craftsmen returned to rest, only piles of wooden planks, red paint, blue tiles, and iron nails remained…
Ji Chen, holding a formation disk, moved silently through the broken walls and debris. Concealing his aura with a formation, his footsteps made no sound, like a shadow.
Finally, amid the scattered wreckage of "Taiping Records," he caught sight of a familiar figure.
What was Wei Ping doing at Thousand Canal Bazaar so late at night?
Wait—he wasn’t alone.
They stood in the shadows where the moonlight didn’t reach, Wei Ping’s back obscuring the other person.
Ji Chen didn’t get too close.
…"My father sent me with men, but remembering our brotherly bond, I couldn't bear to watch you stubbornly deluded by villains." Wei Zhanyang lightly kicked a charred plaque and sighed, "So I came alone. Wei Zhenyu, you left home young—I'm the only one who still treats you as a younger brother."
Wei Ping smiled: "I appreciate the sentiment. You walk your path to immortality, I'll cross my Thousand Canals bridge. Life or death—we'll each rely on our own abilities and accept our fate."
"I don't understand. You dislike constraints, crave freedom and ease—so what are you doing now?"
"Seeking ease," Wei Ping said. "Ease isn't wandering homeless across the four seas. True ease comes from peace within."
"How can you have ease without life? Even if I don't marry Chen Hongzhu and the Wei family stays out of this mess, the Huawel Sect won't let him go. Do you know thousands of outer sect disciples stormed the mountain gates tonight to join Meng Heze, fleeing all the way to Thousand Canals? This feud is now in the open. Staying by Song Qianji's side means certain death! Turn back now—it's not too late!"
Wei Ping: "The token I gave you will expire in one incense stick's time. Thousand Canals' formations will immediately attack you. You have one stick's worth to leave. Run fast—it's not too late."
Hearing this, Wei Zhanyang's expression turned cold, as if shedding a mask of "well-intentioned advice" to reveal his true indifference:
"Let's see what kind of path you can forge."
Seeing further talk was pointless, Wei Zhanyang suddenly approached Wei Ping and whispered rapidly:
"Your new brother is watching from behind. Go silence him."
With that, he melted into the shadows, vanishing without a trace.
Wei Ping whirled around in panic to see a figure standing thirty feet away.
Ji Chen looked devastated, as if unable to believe what he'd witnessed.
Wei Ping shuddered, his mind going blank.
—Discovered.
Draw his sword and kill Ji Chen to silence him?
He couldn't do it.
In the unbearable silence, Ji Chen spoke mournfully: "It seems you won't consider my sister after all."
"The girl you're meeting secretly tonight—is she the one we encountered on our way to 'Taiping Ji' that evening?"
Wei Ping stared blankly: "Huh?"
That day when red leaves suddenly fell, the three from Song Courtyard went through light snow for barbecue. When Ji Chen asked why he seemed distracted, Wei Ping had randomly claimed he'd seen a beautiful girl who stunned him.
Ji Chen asked: "If not for her, you wouldn't have deliberately chosen your first meeting spot. Pity the beautiful scenery is gone, leaving only broken walls and ruins."
Wei Ping hurriedly nodded: "About this—could you keep it secret for me?"
"But if you've found a girl you like, why not court her openly? We'd all wish you well. Why all this secrecy?"
At this thought, Ji Chen's eyes showed suspicion.
Was Wei Ping really meeting a beloved girl?
If not, who could he be meeting? What were they discussing in this midnight rendezvous?
A gentleman doesn't pry into friends' private affairs. He hadn't used spirit qi to eavesdrop earlier because he still wanted to trust his friend.
"It's because, because..." Wei Ping's mind raced as lies sprang to his lips: "Because she came to reject me! She didn't want to be seen. I'm the Thousand Canals steward—who in Sky City doesn't know me? Since we're not meant to be, I shouldn't create gossip that would subject her to public scrutiny."Ji Chen's suspicious gaze transformed into sympathy, even carrying a hint of delight: "So that's how it is. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Why not consider my younger sister?"
Wei Ping was astonished by his ability to pivot the conversation—no matter the topic, it always twisted through nine bends and eighteen turns back to "my younger sister."
This was probably some kind of special talent.
"I've just suffered a disappointment and have no heart for romance at the moment. My only focus is on developing Thousand Canals."
Ji Chen: "Understood, understood. By the way, I came to tell you that Brother Meng just returned! If you see him tomorrow morning, try to be more tolerant and avoid provoking him."
Wei Ping thought, with Meng Heze around, Song Qianji's safety would be better guaranteed.
Ji Chen thought, I have more than one good brother—someone will surely consider my sister. I should still focus my efforts on Brother Meng.
"Whatever he says, I won't hold it against him," Wei Ping murmured. "Since you witnessed my situation tonight, let this remain our secret between brothers. Please don't let others know."
Ji Chen said indignantly: "Do you take me for some gossipmonger who spreads rumors about brothers' heartbreaks?! You're looking down on me too much!"
They immediately sealed their pact with a handshake. Ji Chen vowed solemnly: "Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, and I know—I won't even tell Brother Song or Brother Meng!"
Wei Ping smiled: "Good brother."
Sometimes a lie is like a patch on a splendid brocade robe. If you don't want it seen, you must use more stitches to conceal it, until you're left with a tattered garment full of holes.
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