Compared to the towering Hua Wei Mountain, the down-to-earth Thousand-Ditch Prefecture was naturally much warmer.
Song Qianji stepped onto the familiar land and took a deep breath.
The wind carried familiar scents—soil, trees, fields, flowing water… The breath of early spring swept through Thousand Canals with the breeze.
The icy river had just begun to thaw, delicate buds sprouted on the branches, and swallows gathered mud under the eaves to build their nests.
The Song Courtyard was well cared for. The birds still recognized Song Qianji, chirping and fluttering around him.
An orange stray cat condescended to stroll over, gracefully rubbing against his ankles.
The crystal-clear jade plum blossoms by the wall, the crimson-leaved camellias, the emerald-green radish sprouts, and cilantro seedlings in the garden swayed together in unison.
Standing in the courtyard, Song Qianji felt as if the whole world was welcoming him.
This was his land, and he was its master.
Meng Heze glanced around.
Earlier, the disciples of Thousand Canals had all come out to greet the treasure ship. The streets of Tiancheng were crowded with people eager to catch a glimpse of the Immortal Officials, yet Wei Ping was nowhere to be seen along the way.
He disliked Wei Ping, but at this moment, he felt oddly unaccustomed to his absence. "I’ll go find Steward Wei."
"Let him be. He’ll return by mealtime. Oh, and you two go fetch some soy sauce," Song Qianji said cheerfully. "I’ll cook noodles tonight."
Senior Brother Song was going to cook?
Meng Heze and Ji Chen, tasked with buying soy sauce, turned pale. They exchanged a knowing glance and bolted out the door—
If someone had to eat noodles tonight, it definitely wouldn’t be me!
Find Wei Ping!
Song Qianji had no idea that his joy in cooking noodles was built on others’ suffering.
He changed into his farming robe, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a shovel, and bent down to softly greet the crops:
"Are you all doing well? Growing properly?" "This leaf looks wilted and yellow—I’ll pluck it off first." "You seem a bit under-fertilized."
Song Qianji immersed himself in tending the fields, indulging his enthusiasm to the fullest, without a thought for anything else.
It wasn’t until he trimmed the withered lotus leaves that he caught his reflection in the water vat.
A faint red mark traced his brow, as if lightly scratched by a fingernail.
"What nonsense," Song Qianji muttered, touching his brow. "Why come to me instead of finding Wei Zhenyu?"
Xian Jianchen had sliced off the peak of Hua Wei Mountain with a single sword strike, forcing the mountain into seclusion for repairs.
Song Qianji wasn’t narcissistic enough to believe it was done to avenge his cheap disciple. Something else must have happened—something he didn’t know about—that led to Xian Jianchen’s premature appearance.
Passing through Hua Wei City, the man had merely taken a casual glance at him and left behind that sword strike.
In his previous life, He Qingqing hadn’t existed. In this life, she was the first to discover that the sap from the roots of the Sky-Supporting Tree could enhance a cultivator’s power.
Countless butterflies had flapped their wings, and the hidden iceberg beneath the surface was gradually emerging.
Perhaps the change in the world’s fate had accelerated as well? Would the apocalypse arrive sooner?
Song Qianji snipped off the withered lotus leaf with a decisive cut:
"Let the protagonists save the apocalypse. I’ll just take care of my Thousand-Ditch Prefecture. Who can do anything about it?"
The golden-red sunset hung from the treetops. Song Qianji plucked some fresh, tender cilantro from the garden and ducked into the kitchen to wash the greens.
He planned to make cilantro noodles for everyone tonight.
The medicine pot used to brew Lin Feiyuan’s remedies was still there. Seeing it reminded Song Qianji of the nonsense Lin Feiyuan had spouted before leaving.
He considered tossing it out entirely, but then thought better of it—if someone returned to the Song Courtyard injured someday, it might still come in handy.
…
The sun slowly descended, casting a vast, dusky twilight.
In the Poison Mire Forest, mist gradually rose, obscuring the sunset.
A haze of smoky red mist drifted through the dense, canopy-shrouded woods.
The rustling of leaves created a continuous pattering sound, punctuated occasionally by beastly roars that sent chills down the spine.After nightfall, miasma rose with the wind—the prime hunting time for fierce beasts. This forest, veiled in a natural barrier of dense fog where one couldn't see their own hand five steps away, was ideal for secret meetings, and even more so for disposing of bodies after a kill.
"Uncle." Wei Ping leaned against a tree trunk, eyes closed as he cradled his sword, seemingly resting his spirit.
Though only thick miasma surrounded him, a voice echoed from the void: "Zhenyu, you are a dragon destined to soar the nine heavens. Why willingly remain in a mundane little prefecture, serving as Song Qianji's lackey?!"
Wei Zhenyu thought, here we go again. Why does everyone love calling me a dog?
"Compared to the great clans and sects, Thousand-Ditch Prefecture indeed has nothing. But it holds hope, it has a future. This place is my new sky..." The youth replied indifferently, "Being a dog here is still better than returning to be a person.The voice sneered twice, dripping with disdain:
"Don't think just because Song Qianji and Thousand-Ditch have 'that person' backing them, no one dares touch you, that you're impenetrable.
Let me tell you a secret—that person's Lifebound Sword is no longer by his side. His sword aura will only weaken day by day. When he is no longer the world's number one, the entire world will become his enemy. Can he protect his disciple forever?"
The dust cloud over Huawel Mountain in the Western Sky Continent was so vast it could be faintly glimpsed even from the highest peak in the southernmost continent.
Xian Jianchen's single sword strike shook heaven and earth, terrifying countless cultivators.
Naturally, people categorized Thousand-Ditch Prefecture under Xian Jianchen's protection.
Wei Ping thought, but if the Sword God's Lifebound Sword is missing, how would the Wei family know such a closely guarded secret? Who told them?
"What does the life or death of others matter to me? Thousand-Ditch rose through the hearts of millions, not by relying on a single peerless sword."
The voice trembled with rage: "Did Song Qianji teach you all this? He excels at deluding minds—don't be fooled by him!"
Wei Ping said, "He never taught me anything. This is the third path I've been searching for."
It was the truth. After coming to Thousand-Ditch, Song Qianji only spoke to him about crops in the fields, tomorrow's weather, and assigned each specific task—never once delivering declarations about ideals or philosophies.
The only moment that came close to preaching was when Song Qianji cleared up his misunderstanding about the "Song Canal":
"If Thousand-Ditch has nothing, what meaning is there in my name standing alone between heaven and earth?"
The voice persisted with earnest persuasion: "Since ancient times, there has only been one path to immortality. Where is this 'third path'? The family has paved the way for you, ensuring you have everything, smooth sailing..."
Wei Ping replied, "Even if I walk this paved road and achieve the utmost, what of it? At best, I'd become a second Ziye Wenshu. Ziye Wenshu's rules and rituals can only govern Green Cliff. If you admire that, why not invite him back instead?"
Another, stricter voice interjected: "Wei Zhenyu, the clan has indulged your anonymity and travels out of respect for your talent, not to let you forsake your ancestors and betray your roots!"
Wei Ping still kept his eyes closed: "Ha, so Uncle is here too. Will the ancestral elder have to come personally to fetch me next time?"
The voice grew angrier: "We let it slide before, but now with the Huawel Sect incident, there's no room for your willfulness! If you had agreed to the marriage alliance, things wouldn't have come to this. This disaster stems from you!"On the Fleeting Water Bridge, the Wei family had completely torn off all pretense of cordiality with Song Qianji and the Huawel Sect.
Even if Song Qianji were willing to stand at the entrance of the Cosmos Palace and loudly proclaim that he held no grudges and sought no revenge, no one would believe him.
The Wei family had come prepared with two strategies to persuade Wei Zhenyu.
If Wei Ping could be swayed, he would naturally be taken back to the clan, where all resources would be devoted to nurturing him as the young master.
If Wei Ping remained unyielding, stubbornly determined to pledge loyalty to Song Qianji, he would be of no use to the family. The more talented he was, the greater the threat he posed.
It would be better to knock him unconscious and implant a "Heart-Control Gu." Under normal circumstances, it would show no signs, but at a specific moment, it could seize control of his mind.
A poisonous thorn deeply buried, if activated appropriately, could not only take Song Qianji’s life but also throw Thousand Canals into chaos, allowing the family to seize the opportunity.
These two voices came from different directions, front and back. More footsteps followed, closing in from all sides.
Wei Ping’s ears twitched slightly—ten Golden Core cultivators, six Nascent Souls. Troublesome.
He glanced around; the red miasma was dense. The negotiation had reached a deadlock.
"I wanted to speak reasonably. I tried my best. Since it’s come to this..." Wei Ping suddenly opened his eyes, a sharp light blazing within them.
He said softly, "Then no one gets to eat dinner tonight."
The youth slapped the tree trunk violently. The tree shook, shedding cold droplets like rain.
At the same time, he thrust his sword into the thick layer of fallen leaves and decaying matter on the ground.
The accumulated leaves flew up, and a loud buzzing sound erupted, like the synchronized fluttering of a million cicada wings.
As if the earth dragon had turned over, the ground rapidly collapsed. The "raindrops" from above touched objects and emitted sizzling sounds, corroding the surfaces.
Panicked cries and chaos erupted from all directions.
"This is a trap I designed and improved for the hunting team, with Ji Chen’s triple-layered formation, specifically for hunting sixth-tier ferocious beasts. Meticulously arranged and solidly constructed, it’s never been tested before." In the blink of an eye, a golden barrier rose around Wei Ping’s location, enveloping him completely.
Wei Zhenren charged out of the red mist, thrusting his sword at Wei Ping: "You led us into this trap from the very beginning? I am your blood kin—how dare you commit such an act of treason! I’ve always treated you as my own son!"
A fiercer sword light simultaneously struck him from behind.
Wei Ping swept his sword horizontally and laughed: "Uncle, since I’ve become a dog, how could I have human blood relatives?"
…
When Wei Ping emerged from the poisonous miasma forest, he looked up to see the sky darkening and swallows flying low.
The wind howled, but the air pressure was heavy, as if rain was about to fall.
The Song Courtyard was dimly lit, its paper lanterns emitting a faint, warm glow.
"I was busy with matters today and couldn’t come to greet you, Senior Brother. Did everything go smoothly?" Wei Ping pushed the door open, a gentle smile on his face.
He had already taken an elixir to forcibly stop the bleeding, re-tied his hair, and changed into clean clothes.
Only Song Qianji was in the courtyard. Meng Heze and Ji Chen were absent. Today, upon their return to Thousand Canals, they should have gathered together.
This made Wei Ping’s heart skip a beat.
Song Qianji leaned against the soft cushion of his rocking chair, frowning slightly as he looked at Wei Ping: "Your shoes are dirty."
Wei Ping looked down: "Ah, today at the Thousand Canal Bazaar, I watched someone slaughter a chicken and accidentally got a little blood splattered on them."
In the Song Courtyard, he didn’t even want Song Qianji to see blood on him from killing a chicken.
Outside the Song Courtyard, he killed people as easily as slaughtering chickens.
Song Qianji thought to himself, In my past life, I killed countless people. Do you think I can’t tell the difference between human blood and chicken blood?
But seeing Wei Ping’s ruddy complexion, which showed no signs of injury, he didn’t press further.Wei Ping lowered his head and walked toward the kitchen: "Senior Brother hasn’t eaten yet, right? I’ll bring the grill—we can have some barbecue. How about seasoning it with Thousand Canals Sixteen Spices?"
Song Qianji raised his hand and pointed at the stone table: "Eat."
On the table sat a bowl of noodles, steaming with white heat.
Under the candlelight, a glossy sheen of oil floated atop the noodle soup.
Wei Ping paused briefly, then strode toward the stone table.
"Alright, I’ll eat!" he declared with a tone of grim determination, seating himself in a position with his back to the reclining chair and picking up his chopsticks.
He could feel Song Qianji’s gaze fixed intently on his back, carrying a scrutinizing weight.
Song Qianji had never looked at him like this before.
Did Song Qianji know? How much did he know?
Had someone come to sow discord? What had they said? How much of it had Song Qianji believed?
Wei Ping felt a sudden unease.
As Song Qianji watched, he thought to himself: There’s still some wound medicine left at home, and the pot used to brew Lin Feiyuan’s medicine is here too—but he didn’t know if Wei Ping was injured.
Young people are thin-skinned; when they get hurt in fights outside, they’re often too embarrassed to speak up.
The soup was still warm, but the noodles had gone cold.
The noodles had clumped together into a sticky mass. Wei Ping jabbed his chopsticks into it but couldn’t stir them apart.
"Is it not good?" Song Qianji’s voice came from behind.
The night wind howled, scattering petals and leaves across the courtyard.
His voice, carried by the wind, seemed tinged with a faint, chilling coldness.
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