The moment the wine gourd hit the ground, a sword shadow pierced through the miles-long dust clouds above Mount Huawei, soaring past the myriad peaks and valleys of the Western Sky Continent toward the distant Dead Sea.
The black sea churned with turbulent waves, slowly lifting a golden sun that gushed with radiant light.
Xian Jianchen halted his sword, sitting atop it while swinging his legs, breathing in the slightly salty sea breeze and listening to the endless roar of the tides.
A golden sun rising from the black sea—what a pity there was no one to share this moment with him at the edge of the world.
Most cultivators wouldn’t come to a place like this; those who did were only seeking death.
And seeking death here was only slightly less foolish than borrowing his name, relying on his influence, or pretending to be his disciple.
Xian Jianchen had originally intended to teach Song Qianji a lesson, to show the young man that he couldn’t go around lying recklessly.
Having been the world’s top swordsman for over two hundred years, he had never seen anyone dare to use his name to "swagger and deceive."
And this wasn’t just deceiving ordinary mortals or common cultivators—it was specifically targeting major sects like the Huawel Sect and renowned powerhouses like the Calligrapher Sage, Chess Devil, and Qin Xian.
He had fooled them into such disarray that they were pounding their chests and sighing in frustration.
Song Qianji didn’t deserve to be called the "King of Thousand Canals."
He was clearly the "King of All Scammers."
Yet when Xian Jianchen finally saw the young man in the "Floating City of Huawei," standing firm against the overwhelming tide of remnant souls, stubbornly trying to break through the deathly aura with his own vitality, he suddenly changed his mind.
Xian Jianchen pulled out a new wine gourd and took two long drinks. At the edge of his vision, the sun had already leaped out of the black waves, illuminating the vast sea.
Song Qianji was like this newly risen sun.
"I’ll teach you properly when I have time later," Xian Jianchen thought. There was so much he could impart.
He stood up, spread his arms, and with a loud laugh, hurled himself into the Dead Sea like a meteor crashing from beyond the heavens.
The sea split in two, waves raging toward the sky.
In an instant, the heavens seemed to crack and the earth to tear apart, while sea beasts roared in fury.
"Come out!" Xian Jianchen bellowed.
His voice reverberated, overpowering the roaring waves.
"Come out!"
Was he searching for something, or for someone?
…
Meanwhile, the young "King of All Scammers"—no, the "King of Thousand Canals," Song Qianji—stood on the ravaged wheat fields, watching clusters of human-shaped white lights leaping about, running wild within his Domain.
The remnant souls of Huawel Sect’s past powerhouses, awakened by Xian Jianchen’s "Name Curse," were gradually regaining their senses.
That man had merely brushed his sleeves, flown off effortlessly, and left Song Qianji with a massive family reunion scene.
"Hey, where is this? So many earthy-yellow spiritual plants!"
"Great Master! Great-great Master! How did you all get here too?"
"I am Heng Xuan, the Sixth-Generation Sect Leader of Huawel Sect. And who might you be?"
"I am the Second-Generation Sect Leader, Patriarch Hantian! Before my demise, a wisp of my soul was preserved in the Longevity Spirit Tablet. But where are we now?"
Finally, a dignified, ancient voice spoke: "I am Hua Wei Zhenren, the founding ancestor of Huawel Sect. What year is it now? How fares our sect?"
After all, Huawel Sect had dominated the Western Sky Continent for many years—their ancestors had been illustrious.
Reciting their illustrious names one by one would terrify most cultivators of the current era.
But Song Qianji paid them no mind.
Chewing on a wheat stalk, he crossed his arms and leaned against a bundle of wheat: "How did you all get here? Can’t remember? Let me refresh your memories."
This was his Domain. He feared no one, let alone a bunch of toothless tigers stripped of their deathly aura and spiritual pressure. Starting with farming in Thousand-Ditch Prefecture and ending with "Huawel Sect’s inevitable decline," he launched into a full-faced verbal assault.In his previous life, after Song Qianji had advanced to the Transformation Stage, the Huawel Sect had already declined from its peak, falling out of the ranks of first-class major sects and becoming an ordinary mid-tier sect in the Western Sky Continent.
He hadn’t lied in the slightest.
A moment later, the white lights flew into a rage.
Masters cursed their disciples for disobedience, grandmasters scolded their successors for incompetence.
The light clusters quarreled and fought, bumping and shoving across his wheat field, each trying to shift the blame.
"You passed the position of sect leader to Xu Yun, and the sect ended up in such a state—if I don’t bump into you, who else should I bump into?"
"Great Master, don’t rush to bump into me! That fool over there took Zhao Taiji as his disciple—he should be bumped first!"
When they realized they couldn’t harm each other, they sighed in resignation:
"Children and grandchildren have their own fortunes. I’ve toiled my whole life and have done right by the sect. Once dead, all worldly matters are void—no use dwelling on it."
"When I first entered the sect, it was glorious and revered. Who didn’t look up to the name Huawel? But now, the way of heaven turns… forget it."
"What’s all this racket? Celebrating the New Year?" Song Qianji spat out a wheat stalk, straightened his back, and stood upright. "You’ve been purified by my vitality and haven’t completely dissipated—that’s already a miracle in the Cultivation World. Cease this insolence at once!"
The white lights fell silent, neither sighing nor complaining, and burst into laughter together:
"Whose descendant are you? Which mountain, peak, or cave do you reside in?"
"Who is your master? He should come out and discipline you!"
Song Qianji shouted, "I have no master! I don’t need a master!"
Zhenren Hengxuan said, "Young man, even if you’ve quarreled with your master, you can’t say such things. There are no lasting grudges between master and disciple."
Hua Wei Zhenren said, "The red mark on your brow is the contract left by your master. This is an ancient pact of our Huawel Sect. Your master tasked you with taking care of us, correct?"
A contract? Song Qianji touched his brow bone, where Xian Jianchen’s fingertip had brushed—it still felt slightly warm.
It seemed as though an invisible thread connected him to someone, binding these souls within his Domain.
Song Qianji sneered, "Only spiritual beasts have contracts! What can this thing do to me?"
Damn you, Xian Jianchen.
If you had any use for them, why not keep them in your own Domain?
Your Domain is a forest of ten thousand swords, piles of white bones, where not a single blade of grass can grow. So you’re eyeing my vibrant, life-filled wheat field, devoid of killing intent and brimming with vitality?
What do you take this place for? A "Wheat Field Retirement Home"?
The white lights chattered incessantly, adding fuel to the fire:
"Since it’s your master’s instruction, you must show us filial piety from now on."
"What other treasures does your Domain hold? Present them at once!"
"Go and gather treasures to nourish our souls!"
Song Qianji thought, Filial piety, my foot.
My own parents passed away early, and I never had the chance to fulfill my duties to them.
Now, after living two lifetimes, I’m supposed to provide for a bunch of Huawel Sect ancestors?
Since when is anything in this world so cheap and easy?
He pointed to the sky and shouted, "Rain, come!"
The Fountain of Immortality showed no response. The wheat field remained silent.
The white lights had no facial features, but Song Qianji sensed confusion in each glowing cluster. The air was thick with awkward question marks.
Song Qianji cleared his throat softly.
He silently recited a few pleasant words, first coaxing the Fountain of Immortality: "I know what you mean—bringing a crowd here without permission was my mistake, and I didn’t want to either. But could you give me some face just this once?"
"Thunder!" He pointed to the sky again.
"Boom!"
Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and a downpour poured!The peaceful and serene wheat fields were plunged into darkness in an instant, with sand flying and stones rolling.
Rain fell from the sky like needles, while the wheat awns on the ground were even sharper.
They pierced the white light clusters, scattering them in all directions as they fled, cursing Song Qianji as the unfilial son of the Cultivation World.
"See clearly now? This is my Domain, and here, I make the rules!" Song Qianji waved his sleeves, his imposing presence demonic under the lightning. "Xian Jianchen may decide whether you stay here, but he cannot decide how I treat you. Face reality sooner and abandon your illusions!"
"How dare we suffer such humiliation!"
Over a dozen white light clusters charged at Song Qianji, only to be swatted onto the wheat fields with a flick of his sleeve.
Another group of white light clusters stared blankly at him, shrinking themselves into tight balls.
The last group remained steady and unmoving—these were the founding ancestors led by Hua Wei Zhenren.
"Even if you no longer care about your disciples and descendants, don’t you want to see the fate of Huawel Sect? The sect where you once lived and gave everything—don’t you want to see it a little longer?" Song Qianji painted a picture out of thin air. "As long as you follow my rules, I can let you see it. My rules are truly very simple."
The white light clusters looked at Hua Wei Zhenren, who slowly spoke, "It wouldn’t hurt to hear them out."
Song Qianji cleared his throat lightly. "The basics are to remain quiet and peaceful, neither fighting nor disturbing others. Beyond that, there is a points system. After three years, whoever has the highest score will be taken out by me."
"When Thousand-Ditch Prefecture was just starting out, the library was newly built, and many texts were missing, so we needed to replenish them. Those who transcribe introductory books will earn one point; those who transcribe rare Daoist scriptures will earn three points…"
"When my Domain is rebuilt and the crops are restored, harvesting ten catties of wheat will also earn one point…"
The white light clusters exchanged glances, falling into thoughtful silence.
"This system feels very familiar, as if I’ve seen it somewhere."
"Something about it feels off."
Han Tian Zhenren suddenly roared, "Isn’t this exactly the 'Outer Sect Twelve-Hour Labor System' I created?! Using sect contribution points to divide the Outer Sect disciples, where only the hardest workers can enter the Inner Sect?"
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