Song Qianji’s desire to meet Wei Zhenyu wasn’t driven by any ill intent—merely curiosity.
When he first died, he had indeed envied the other man. But after lying back and watching the show for so long in that little dark room, he no longer even cared about cultivating immortality, let alone harboring jealousy over someone else’s good fortune.
The concept of luck was unpredictable.
Cultivators from prestigious, noble families often benefited from ancestral virtue, favorable feng shui in their abodes, and even subordinate kingdoms or fiefdoms.
If they could shelter a region, ensuring favorable weather and bountiful harvests, and receive worship from thousands of mortals who erected golden statues in their honor, the more incense burned in their name, the greater their luck—and the smoother their path to immortality. It was a virtuous cycle.
Ordinary cultivators, on the other hand, had no treasured lands or spiritual artifacts for protection, no ascended Great Adepts among their ancestors, and no mortal worshippers. They could only console themselves with the idea of “doing good deeds to accumulate blessings.”
There was also an unorthodox path: using mystical arts to plunder others’ luck. This was a gamble—a deception against heaven and earth—and the slightest misstep would inevitably lead to backlash.
Song Qianji had never entertained such thoughts.
But he had once witnessed a Daoist art from Purple Cloud Temple called “Aura Observation.”
After Song Qianji advanced to the Transformation Stage, various sects came to offer congratulations.
The master of Purple Cloud Temple publicly demonstrated Aura Observation. When observing others, he saw a dazzling interplay of five colors, like radiant clouds and mist, allowing him to deduce the reasons for their rise—all explained with convincing detail.
But when he looked at Song Qianji, he saw only an impenetrable, thick black smoke accompanied by a foul, bloody wind—so intense it nearly blinded him.
Not daring to speak ill of Song Qianji, he could only say, “In a century of observing auras, I have never seen such a sight. How he achieved this, I cannot fathom.”
In essence, he meant he had never encountered anyone with such wretched luck, utterly devoid of heaven’s favor.
The strange thing was, this person had not only survived to this day but had also achieved such remarkable accomplishments.
From then on, Song Qianji’s fearsome reputation grew even stronger.
The cultivation world widely regarded him as “virtueless”—a man with a tenacious life and a ruthless heart, whom even the King of Hell refused to claim.
Regardless of what was said behind his back, people treated him with increasing surface-level reverence and fear.
Song Qianji thought: If Wei Zhenyu were bathed in golden light, radiant as the sun, he would appear to any cultivator skilled in Aura Observation like a child carrying gold through the marketplace—inevitably drawing covetous eyes and schemes to steal his fortune.
Wei Zhenyu must possess some secret art to conceal his aura, blending in with the ordinary, enabling him to thrive quietly under the radar.
That was why, at this Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals, Song Qianji ignored the celebrated geniuses of various sects and instead sought out an obscure junior disciple named Wei.
“Senior Brother Song, what are you thinking about?” Meng Heze interrupted his thoughts.
“Nothing.” Song Qianji shook his head.
Meng Heze assumed he was worried about the Grand Audience Assembly. “I’ll go buy you ink, brushes, paper, and inkstones so you can practice calligraphy and painting.”
“No need.” After watering the plants, Song Qianji put away his watering can. “I’d like to buy some seeds.”
“Seeds?” Meng Heze was puzzled. “What kind of spiritual plant seeds?”
“Not spiritual plants—ordinary seeds.” Song Qianji wasn’t picky. “Seedlings would work too.”
Zhou Xiaoyun suddenly spoke up: “That’s easy! The Outer Sect’s main kitchen has them!”
Outer sect disciples who hadn’t yet achieved grain avoidance usually ate at the main kitchen. While they didn’t have access to spiritual plants, rice, or spiritual beast meat, they had plenty of grains, flour, and fresh vegetables.
“We’re heading to the Spirit Stone Mine to work now. We’ll pass by the main kitchen after our shift and bring some back for you.” Meng Heze stood up to take his leave.
Song Qianji nodded in thanks.
The tender new sprouts of the potatoes, glistening with dew, brimmed with vitality as they hid in the soil.
This was the first time Song Qianji had grown anything.
He reached out a fingertip and carefully touched them. A sense of novelty and joy washed over him.
Because he carried the Fountain of Immortality—a treasure brimming with the strongest vitality—his perception of life had become keen.
It wasn’t just people or living creatures, but anything that held life within it.For instance, he could sense when a leaf would fall from a branch, or when a peach blossom beneath the foliage would transition from full bloom to withering.
Perhaps he truly had a talent for farming.
Great oaks from little acorns grow—one day, he would have his own farm!
After resolving the issue of seeds and seedlings, Song Qianji transplanted the peach tree in front of his courtyard gate three zhang away to improve the sunlight within the walls.
He meticulously turned and cleared the soil in front of the gate, erecting bamboo fences on both sides of the vermilion-lacquered door to create two new vegetable plots.
He worked with intense focus, even for tedious tasks like turning soil with a shovel, devoting his full attention and leaving no room for carelessness.
It was as if he were engaged in the most fascinating and important work in the world.
Song Qianji was content.
But those surveilling him were on the verge of collapse.
"Report! Song Qianji has bought seeds and seedlings—it seems he plans to farm!"
"Report! Song Qianji has truly started carrying water and tilling the land!"
"Report! Today, Song Qianji planted eggplants, scallions, and garlic sprouts..."
"Report! Song Qianji intends to plant flowers in front of his gate..."
"Enough! Stop reporting!"
Zhao Yuping angrily flung his sleeve, sending the teacup on the table shattering to the floor, fragments scattering everywhere.
Standing amidst the broken pieces, he stamped his foot in frustration: "What on earth is that brat trying to do!"
A Qi Refining Stage nobody who had no time for leisure, who even begrudged sleep, squeezing every possible moment to cultivate—forty shichen a day if he could.
And then one day, he suddenly started farming. Worse, since he began farming, he had completely stopped cultivating.
The more Zhao Yuping thought about it, the more uneasy he grew. He couldn't shake the feeling that Song Qianji's bizarre behavior was building up to some devastating, grand scheme.
It was like a sword hanging over his head. Not knowing the other's plans filled him with anxiety:
"When will the people from Azure Cliff Academy and the Celestial Sound Sect arrive? The longer this drags on, the more complications arise. Send someone to hurry them along."
Chen Hongzhu was equally unsettled.
She had volunteered to keep an eye on Song Qianji, not to hear daily reports on how he transplanted seedlings or watered plants.
Chen Hongzhu had bribed disciples from twenty Outer Sect dormitories surrounding "Song Courtyard," leaving them Spirit Stones and message Paper Cranes along with stern threats:
"If Song Qianji makes any move and you fail to notice and report it to me promptly, prepare to face the whip!"
Under this combination of coercion and bribery, her intelligence network was more efficient than Zhao Yuping's.
Yet Song Qianji seemed to sense something, keeping a low profile and having Meng Heze and others deliver the seeds and farming tools he needed into his courtyard.
"He'd rather waste his time on such trivial matters every day than practice his sword. Is he deliberately trying to provoke me?"
Once this thought took root, Chen Hongzhu found herself distracted during sword practice and restless during meditation.
"Song Qianji has left his residence!"
A Paper Crane brought the latest news, and Chen Hongzhu sprang to her feet.
※※※
Song Qianji closed the vermilion-lacquered door. As he prepared to set off, he suddenly glanced up at the peach tree.
The sunlight was clear and bright, layers of lush blossoms and tender leaves blooming vibrantly.
A girl in red sat swaying her legs on a branch, grinning as she asked, "Where are you off to?"
Song Qianji frowned. "How did you get here?"
There had been no fluctuation of Spirit Qi. She seemed to have appeared out of thin air, startling the birds into flight.
"With this!" Chen Hongzhu produced a diamond-shaped token. "The moment you make a move, I can be here instantly!"
Golden light glinted, reflecting the sunlight and dazzling Song Qianji's eyes.
"You know how it is—my father and my martial uncles don't want to see you. Dirty, tiresome tasks like keeping an eye on you naturally fall to me. Seizing the opportunity, I borrowed the Hua Wei True Token from my father. With this token, I can utilize the Hua Wei formation to move freely and instantly anywhere within the sect." Chen Hongzhu declared triumphantly."For example, the Star-Picking Platform on the back mountain—my cultivation level isn't high enough to reach it yet. But since obtaining it, whenever I can't sleep at night, I can go stargaze anytime. For this, I truly have to thank you."
Having learned from her previous failed attempt to deal with him, she felt that being straightforward was better than hiding things when facing this person.
But she didn't mention why she couldn't sleep, figuring he wouldn't care anyway.
Song Qianji was speechless.
What's the difference between this and using public funds for travel and lavish meals?
But considering Chen Hongzhu's status, exploiting her own family's resources wasn't illegal.
He turned and walked away.
Chen Hongzhu jumped down and chased after him: "Where are you going to practice swordplay?"
"Not practicing swordplay. Going to check on the spirit fields."
Chen Hongzhu bit her lower lip, steeling herself: "The Grand Audience Assembly is about to begin! You can't let anger hold you back like this! If I was rude to you before, I can apologize!"
Thinking how she'd rampaged unchecked for eighteen years without ever bowing her head, let alone apologizing.
If he still refused to save face, she would truly get angry.
"Haven't you heard?" Song Qianji asked.
"What?"
"I registered for calligraphy and painting."
Chen Hongzhu burst into violent coughing: "You've really gone mad!"
"Cultivation is like sailing against the current. Once you embark on this path, you must constantly struggle—against others, against heaven. Otherwise, if you fall behind one step, you'll keep falling further." Chen Hongzhu advised with grave concern, "At fourteen or fifteen, some are at early Qi Refining Stage while others have reached perfection. They might seem similar now, but the gap will widen over time. When your friend Meng Heze forms his Golden Core and you're still struggling with Foundation Establishment, won't you feel anxious?"
"I'm not anxious."
Song Qianji continued walking while enjoying the scenery, his expression relaxed.
Chen Hongzhu felt furious at his lack of ambition. She wished she could grab his shoulders and shake him hard.
"You're merely at Qi Refining Stage! To receive personal guidance from 'that person' is an incredible opportunity! Others couldn't obtain this even if their ancestors' graves emitted smoke! Why don't you cherish it? How dare you not cherish it!"
She took a deep breath: "Even if you don't want to compete with fellow cultivators. Even mortals who don't cultivate understand the simplest truth in this world: if you don't want to be bullied or slaughtered at will, you have no choice but to fight desperately. Everyone wants to be superior to others, and that's what creates this dog-eat-dog world."
"Why are you so anxious?" Song Qianji smiled, "Are you my mother?"
"You!" Chen Hongzhu nearly stormed off in anger, but then her eyes shifted cunningly: "That thing you said before—I heard about it. Not just me, the entire Huawel Sect knows now."
"Miaoyan has many fanatical followers, and they're coming to the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals too. You're going to have trouble! Aren't you scared?"
Song Qianji thought for a moment, then nodded honestly: "Scared."
Anyone who could become a fanatical follower surely wasn't particularly bright.
He had experienced this thoroughly in his previous life.
When Miaoyan invited him to listen to her zither by the cold lake, they hid underwater, waiting to sabotage the occasion, but accidentally woke a millennium-old crocodile sleeping in the lake and got chased for forty miles across the water.
When Miaoyan invited him for tea on a boat, they hid underneath, planning to assassinate him, but afraid of being swept away by the rapid currents, they tied themselves together with ropes.
Catching one would lead to pulling up a whole string—seven melons growing from one vine.
These people, whose intelligence was on par with Zhao Jiheng's, had provided rare comic relief in Song Qianji's tedious cultivation life in his previous incarnation.
But back then, he maintained the dignity of a Great Adept, especially wanting to appear proper in front of Miaoyan, unwilling to be seen as some frivolous Rogue Cultivator.
Wanting to laugh but having to restrain himself had been quite the struggle.Now without any burdens, he could laugh as he pleased. If they met again, he feared he might laugh himself to death.
But Chen Hongzhu choked on her words.
She knew this person had a tough backbone. If provoked, he should have played the hero and said, "Who's afraid? Just bring it on."
That would have been the perfect chance to push him to practice swordsmanship diligently and prepare to teach those people a lesson.
Now that he had straightforwardly admitted cowardice, she was left speechless.
Song Qianji suddenly asked, "You're scared too about their arrival, aren't you?"
"Nonsense, why would I be scared?!" Chen Hongzhu bristled with anger, "Scared of what? I just don't like Miaoyan. If anyone dares bully either of us because of that, they'll have to answer to my sword first."
"Don't you use a whip?"
"This whip is just for intimidating others! Like setting off firecrackers during New Year—it's all for the noise." Chen Hongzhu said seriously, "A sword is a lethal weapon. A blade meant to harm should not be lightly revealed."
"So you understand this principle." Song Qianji was somewhat surprised, "You're not bad."
"So you can actually compliment people. I thought you only knew how to annoy others. But you're not bad either." Chen Hongzhu beamed at the praise and returned the favor, "I bet Miaoyan is so angry her hands are trembling right now, wishing she could smash the bamboo railings but still pretending not to care!"
Song Qianji shook his head: "No. She won't."
As they spoke, the terraced spirit mountains layered like thousand-fold snow waves came into view.
※※※
Miaoyan stood by the railing, quietly admiring the flowers.
Wherever she went, there were always blossoms.
She and Chen Hongzhu disliked each other at first sight, so she naturally had no desire to stay in Chen Hongzhu's Carefree Palace.
Though they were cousins, they had not grown up together as childhood friends. Chen Hongzhu was Xu Yun's child born in his old age and had been the Huawei Sect's princess since birth.
Meanwhile, Miaoyan lost her parents early. Before her mother passed away, she entrusted Miaoyan to her uncle, the sect leader of Huawei.
Unfortunately, her Spirit Root was frail, and her Spirit Veins were delicate and pliant—completely unsuited for sword or blade cultivation. No matter how hard she tried, it only made Xu Yun shake his head and frown.
The Huawei Sect treated her as an extra mouth to feed, just another idler.
After Chen Hongzhu was born, Miaoyan moved from the Main Peak to a quiet bamboo grove in the back hills.
It wasn't until Immortal Wangshu visited the Huawei Sect and saw her aptitude for Celestial Tone Arts, taking her as a disciple and imparting all her knowledge, that Miaoyan's life changed.
When she reappeared before others, she had become the radiant Celestial Maiden of the Nine Heavens, naturally gifted and brilliant.
As if she had been born that way.
To showcase their deep friendship as bosom friends, the Huawei Sect built a Celestial Sound Pavilion for her within Chen Hongzhu's Carefree Palace.
But Miaoyan preferred her old bamboo lodge.
The Huawei Sect had no choice but to renovate the place, hanging white mermaid silk and placing luminous pearls to create an ethereal, elegant ambiance.
When her maid entered and saw Miaoyan gazing absently at the flowers with a hint of worry between her brows, she mistakenly thought she was troubled by the gossip and said urgently:
"You've heard about it too?"
"What?" Miaoyan was startled, then recalled the rather unpleasant remark and smiled, shaking her head, "It's nothing."
The maid fumed, "The Huawei Sect invited you as a guest, yet some disciples dare disrespect you. If I ever encounter them face to face..."
"No. It has nothing to do with him."
Miaoyan turned, picked up a small golden pair of scissors, and began trimming the excess branches of a potted plant, "This bamboo lodge is remote. The reason you hear such rumors is because someone wants me to hear them, wants me to get angry."
The maid pondered for a moment, then suddenly clapped her hands, "Then they're bound to be disappointed. I've never seen the Celestial Maiden angry!"
Miaoyan smiled.She was accustomed to pouring all her love, hatred, joy, and anger into her music. When the qin's melody ceased, she lifted her head, once again the flawless celestial maiden.
She never revealed negative emotions in front of others.
"Besides, a mere Outer Sect disciple isn't worth your anger," her maid said with a light laugh.
Snip.
The golden scissors slipped, and a flower bud fell to the ground.
Miaoyan's smile faded. "An Outer Sect disciple?"
She set down the scissors, inexplicably recalling the encounter on Fleeting Water Bridge—that person's aloof expression, the slight furrow of their brow.
If it were that person, they certainly seemed the type to say such things.
"Oh, the flower fell!" the maid exclaimed in surprise, then comforted, "No matter, there are fresh flowers outside the pavilion. I'll bring them in right away."
The old flowers were discarded, replaced by new blooms arranged on the terrace.
Orchids with golden veins, peonies of five colors, crystal-like azaleas...
The elegant, ethereal bamboo pavilion was instantly transformed into a riot of colors and intoxicating fragrances.
The maid covered her mouth, laughing. "Look at these people—sending flowers before they even arrive."
Miaoyan enjoyed looking at flowers.
Beautiful flowers and a stunning beauty complemented each other, and others delighted in presenting her with blossoms.
Pursuing the most exquisite beauty, offering the most vibrant flowers—many considered this the height of refinement.
Having served Miaoyan for years, the maid was like a sister to her, having seen every rare blossom, exotic plant, and precious spiritual flora the world had to offer. Nothing seemed extraordinary to her anymore.
"Goddess, among these newly arrived flowers, which do you favor?"
"None."
Miaoyan turned away, leaving the dazzling array of blooms behind without a second glance.
She returned to her seat by the bamboo desk, lowering her head to pluck the qin strings.
"Then among those who sent these flowers, whom do you like best?"
"I like none of them."
The maid pondered, realizing she had never seen Miaoyan show particular interest in anyone, and couldn't resist asking, "What kind of person do you truly admire?"
"One who understands my music." The beauty plucked two strings—though not forming a melody, the notes flowed like spring water striking stones, fresh and pleasing to the ear.
Alas, those who understood were few. If the strings broke, who would listen?
The maid didn't comprehend and wanted to ask what she meant by "one who understands my music," when suddenly her eyes lit up. She snatched a paper crane as if catching a butterfly. "A letter from Goddess Wangshu!"
Miaoyan didn't look up, only asking, "What does Master say?"
"She requests that after the Music Examination at the Grand Audience Assembly concludes, you perform a piece to clear minds, soothe spirits, and enhance cultivation for all."
"Understood." Miaoyan adjusted the pearl hairpin at her temple, smiling. "Master remains as competitive as ever."
With her as the finale, who would remember what this year's champion had played?
Weren't all the young participants here to make a name for themselves? To practice diligently, win the championship, yet go unremembered...
It was somewhat pitiable.
Miaoyan silently offered an early "apology" in her heart.
Esteemed seniors maintained their dignity and wouldn't participate. She was confident that in the current Cultivation World, among music cultivators willing to perform publicly, none could surpass her.
Every year, someone was hailed as the "little Miaoyan," only to fade like a morning glory.
There was only one Miaoyan.
At this thought, a cold, stubborn expression surfaced, utterly shattering her gentle beauty, almost transforming her into a different person.
But she kept her head lowered, and no one could see.
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