“Go after your wounds have healed,” Ziye Wenshu said.
Song Qianji waved his arm, indicating it was nothing serious: “Just a flesh wound.”
He had just touched the Inexhaustible Fire, and the Fountain of Immortality was throwing a tantrum, now dawdling and refusing to heal him.
Leaving some scars might help appease the Fountain of Immortality.
Where there is life, there is death. Where there is water that nurtures all things, there is fire that burns heaven and earth.
No sooner had he emerged from the sea of fire than he entered an ice cavern. Meanwhile, Wei Zhenyu, whose age, experience, and cultivation skills were still inferior to his previous life, had obtained the Inexhaustible Fire ahead of time. It seemed he still had hardships to endure.
Ziye Wenshu did not press further and merely tossed an object: “Take it.”
The pitch-black Snow Blade flew through the air, carrying a biting chill as it landed in Song Qianji’s arms.
Song Qianji was slightly surprised. He tossed it in his hand, gauging its weight—it was quite heavy.
He figured the other man saw that he carried no Magical Artifact, was injured, and looked disheveled, assuming he was in dire straits and worried he couldn’t handle the Iceleaf Herb’s symbiotic demon beast. Thus, he lent him the blade for protection.
Song Qianji initially wanted to refuse—why use a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken? But then he recalled the intricate factions within the cave and Ziye Wenshu’s situation, and he laughed: “You’d lend your Natal Blade so easily, yet refuse to say a single kind word. Don’t you want to say something to thank me?”
Ziye Wenshu uttered two words: “Thank you.”
Song Qianji: “...You’re welcome.”
Ziye Wenshu watched Song Qianji leave the ice chamber, then closed his eyes to meditate, his brow slightly furrowed.
In truth, from the moment this person spoke his first sentence, he had found it familiar.
Song Qianji had always been unruly in speech and action.
He wrote letters complaining about the Iron Beast destroying vegetable patches, knocking over flower stands, and breaking tree branches, saying he must have been cursed for eight lifetimes to be raising these two living ancestors.
When sending fresh bamboo shoots, he attached a note saying, “You’re truly blessed across three lifetimes to be able to eat these.”
Now, Song Qianji had come to the secret realm incognito, and the first thing he said upon meeting him was to mock him for “remaining true to himself across two lifetimes,” adding, “You’ve gotten yourself into this state again.”
It was as if the other had witnessed his injuries firsthand, as if they had known each other before.
Back then, on the rear mountain of Huawai Sect, Song Qianji had struck up a conversation with him in the same manner.
In all the years Ziye Wenshu had lived, only Song Qianji would say such baffling things and do utterly inexplicable acts.
The etiquette and rules of the Cultivation World were either invisible to him or something he simply didn’t care about.
He didn’t need to struggle to “break free” from any framework because he was already leaping about freely between heaven and earth.
Over the past three years, the Cultivation World had undergone tumultuous changes, with major sects and families facing unprecedented upheaval.
Green Cliff was an academy, a place of learning far removed from the chaos of war, unlike Wei Wang and the Zhao Family, who fought life-and-death battles over territory.
But new ideologies frequently emerged in the Cultivation World, and debate forums were abuzz with heated arguments over various topics. The academy was the epicenter of these ideological storms—a battlefield without swords.
At times, Ziye Wenshu felt as though he was separated from the world by a Glass Cover, watching as people outside fought daily over matters he couldn’t comprehend.
After the academy dean learned of his correspondence with Song Qianji, he hinted that Ziye Wenshu should ask Song Qianji about his future plans—whether he intended to formally declare war on Huawai Sect to contend for the Western Sky Continent, or if he was interested in forming an alliance with the academy.
Ziye Wenshu never asked.
What plans could Song Qianji possibly have?
Everyone in the Cultivation World knew the world was in chaos. Only Song Qianji, whom people said was destined to become a king, continued to till the fields of Thousand Canals, earnestly writing in each letter about the blooming and withering of flowers, seed selection, improvements to farming tools, and insights on raising Iron Beasts.
Ziye Wenshu just hadn’t expected this day to come so soon.Song Qianji abandoned his fields and left his homeland, casting aside farming tools to take up a magical artifact, infiltrating secret realms to kill.
Would Thousand Canals still plant new bamboo in the future?
...
The cultivators who had led the way earlier waited in place, watching anxiously. When they saw Song Qianji emerge unscathed and even carrying the Snow Blade, they were utterly astonished.
"You really are Courtyard Overseer Ziye’s—" The lead scholar glanced at the blade, then at the man, reluctantly uttering the two words, "friend?"
Song Qianji walked forward. "An old friend."
The crowd trailed behind him, both shocked and delighted. Shocked that Ziye Wenshu actually had a friend; delighted that since this person was Ziye Wenshu’s friend, he must possess some genuine skill and could help them escape their predicament.
"Never judge a book by its cover! Earlier, we failed to recognize Painted Spring Mountain and offended you. Please don’t hold it against us, fellow Daoist!"
"Might we ask how you are addressed? Under which esteemed master do you study? What arts do you cultivate?"
Song Qianji: "Song Xun, Rogue Cultivator. My techniques are varied."
They hadn’t heard of him. The cultivators fell silent once more.
This man was the epitome of ordinary from head to toe—where could one even begin to compliment him?
"What a fine name! 'Searching for him a thousand times in the crowd'—and Fellow Daoist Song has found us!" A familiar voice rang out from the crowd.
Song Qianji turned to see Qingzhai and Zimo emerging from a side passage.
"This place has heavy echoes; we just heard that Courtyard Overseer Senior Brother’s friend had arrived." Zimo cupped his hands toward Song Qianji. "Let me introduce myself first..."
The awkward situation dissolved. The scholars silently conveyed "impressive" and "as expected of our senior brothers" with their eyes:
"Senior Brothers, you’ve finally returned!"
"Why are only you two back? Didn’t you bring the others?" The lead scholar looked behind them.
Zimo’s proud expression vanished instantly, replaced by helplessness. "Don’t even ask. Some were unwilling to come, and others said to have Courtyard Overseer Senior Brother go to them himself."
Someone said angrily, "We told them Senior Brother’s injuries have worsened, that we need everyone to contribute now, that we must unite to break through. Why didn’t they believe us?"
"It’s not that they don’t believe—it’s that they don’t want to believe, don’t dare to believe." Qingzhai sighed. "Even now, each family is still calculating their own gains and losses."
Gloom and worry hung heavy in the air.
"I’ll go report to Senior Brother first." Zimo moved toward the ice chamber but was blocked by a black blade.
Ziye Wenshu’s Snow Blade.
Song Qianji: "My holding this blade means your Senior Brother needs to recuperate. From now on, I’m taking charge here."
"Don’t believe me? Go ask your Senior Brother." Song Qianji continued walking as he spoke.
Zimo hurriedly said, "Senior Brother never parts with his blade, so of course we believe Fellow Daoist Song Xun. If it weren’t absolutely necessary, who would want to disturb Senior Brother’s rest? It’s just that, Fellow Daoist, you may not know the current situation here is complicated—internal strife and external threats. Yesterday, we nearly came to blows..."
Song Qianji nodded to show he was listening.
"The disciples from noble families of Yanshui County and Fuyang County—over forty of them—are generations of in-laws, closely connected. They can be considered one team now. Their team has six Nascent Soul Stage retainers; the rest are young masters and ladies from wealthy families, pampered and sheltered, holed up in their cave unwilling to take a single step out."
"The three teams of Rogue Cultivators are all from the Western Sky Continent. They knew each other before and have temporarily allied thirty people, now gathered together, all with the sole intention of seizing other teams’ magical artifacts and elixirs to break out. They act without rules or reason—simply impossible to communicate with!"
Song Qianji kept walking, his expression unchanged.
He thought to himself, Using you scholars’ methods to communicate—what lowborn Rogue Cultivator would ever want to listen?"And then there are the female cultivators from Huaxi Sect. Though few in number and not highly skilled, their methods should not be underestimated. We still need to be cautious. Fellow Daoist Song might not know this, but Huaxi Sect's predecessor was... that, that Dual Joy Sect."
The scholars wore strange expressions; the younger ones blushed while the older ones deliberately laughed to tease them.
Song Qianji simply nodded: "I know."
As if hearing about Dual Joy Sect was no different from hearing about Huawel Sect.
Zimo immediately felt bored and signaled Qingzhai to continue.
"Additionally, there are over thirty from the Celestial Sound Sect. They don't get along with Huaxi Sect, calling them 'enchantresses' upon meeting, while the others call them 'fake immortals.' Celestial Sound Sect is a major sect. Originally, hundreds of disciples were to enter the secret realm together, a grand procession, but Fairy Miaoyan's group got separated from the others. Just like our Green Cliff team, we lost contact with our classmates..."
"Who did you say?" Song Qianji stopped.
"I said the Celestial Sound Sect, Fairy Miaoyan."
The scholars snickered upon seeing this, exchanging meaningful glances.
No matter how calm and composed you are, your expression will change upon hearing "Fairy Miaoyan."
"How could it be." Song Qianji murmured, continuing forward.
"Indeed, times have changed! In the past, it was as difficult as climbing to heaven for an ordinary cultivator to catch a glimpse of the 'Number One Beauty'! Have you ever seen her, Fellow Daoist Song? Would you like to meet her? Should I introduce you?"
Miaoyan and secret realms—these two words simply didn't go together.
When mentioning Miaoyan, cultivators thought of jade zithers, fresh flowers, banquet songs and dances, brilliant clouds, and the lavish Jet-Black Gold Carriage—all the glory and splendor of the upper Cultivation World.
When mentioning secret realms, they only thought of contention, bloodshed, and slaughter.
Miaoyan never participated in secret realm trials, nor did she need to.
Why is she here? Song Qianji wondered. The Celestial Sound Sect must have encountered some changes.
As they spoke, the ice cave grew narrower, the ice cavern below like a deep well, dark and bottomless.
The scholars' teeth chattered from the cold, their faces turning pale.
Zimo couldn't help stopping: "Fellow Daoist Song, where are you heading? The deeper we go here, the heavier the cold and the slower our spiritual power circulates. If we go further down, we might freeze to death."
"Right, and we don't even know what's down there that makes those things outside dare not enter."
Song Qianji: "I'm going down to pick something. You don't need to follow."
"Hey, wait—" Qingzhai reached out.
Song Qianji leaped, plunging into the ice well.
Qingzhai looked like he wanted to cry:
"I wanted to ask him, if he doesn't return, could he leave Senior Brother's blade behind? This is a lifebound magical artifact, after all."
"Bah, bah, crow's mouth!" Zimo worried, "Where did this person come from? How could Senior Brother trust him so much?"
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