Ten thousand miles away from Thousand-Ditch Prefecture, on the Dead Sea, violent winds lashed torrential rain across the sky. The night seemed torn with fissures, unleashing silver dragon-like lightning that rampaged among towering waves.
In the heart of the storm, a silver island whale charged forward at full speed, breaking through the raging swells.
Deep within the whale’s belly, continuous tremors made Song Qianji feel like a tiny stalk of wheat tossed into the cylinder thresher invented by Liu the Carpenter.
Xian Jianchen handed him a freshly brewed cup of tea: "Spirit-Clearing Jade Dew. Drink it, and you won’t feel dizzy from the whale anymore."
The tea was slightly bitter. Song Qianji downed it in one gulp, and the stifling nausea in his chest instantly vanished. "Seems you haven’t been wasting your years—you’ve got quite a collection of fine things."
With his mind clear, he began to organize his thoughts:
"According to what you just said, this person fell into demonic ways three hundred years ago. After you crippled his evil cultivation, he turned to Buddhism. A century later, he appeared as an enlightened monk with countless followers, but in truth, he was a dual entity of Buddha and demon. He hosted a banquet at Huawel Sect, claiming he wanted to reconcile with you, but instead colluded with the sect to attack you. In the end, you sealed him beneath the Sky-Supporting Tree…"
Xian Jianchen: "Exactly. After that incident, I killed many at Huawel Sect and left behind a sword aura, forbidding them from ever speaking my name. Anyone who utters ‘Xian Jianchen’ gets struck by lightning—hahaha!"
He laughed, recalling how those people had trembled under thunderbolts for the past two centuries.
Song Qianji thought, And you can still laugh? "Couldn’t you have sealed him somewhere else? Did it have to be the Sky-Supporting Tree?"
"At the time, I was pursuing him with my sword, and he fled all the way to the edge of the continent. The Sky-Supporting Tree holds up the heavens like the spine of the sky. I sealed him beneath it to suppress him with the weight of the entire firmament, ensuring he could never rise again. My seal was utterly unbreakable—even I couldn’t undo it. No one in this world could ever free him!"
Song Qianji chuckled dryly: "His true form may be trapped, but his avatars aren’t. The very seal no one could break became his fortress. Xian Jianchen, you’ve truly outdone yourself. I really ought to bow and take you as my master!"
Xian Jianchen, knowing he was at fault, sighed softly: "Who could have predicted the Sky-Supporting Tree’s power would gradually weaken, allowing him to find a loophole? His physical body remains immobilized, but he draws upon the world’s malevolent thoughts through the tree’s roots, strengthening his soul. Then, his soul leaves his body, attaching to newborn branches to create avatars that walk among mortals."
"How do you know all this?" Song Qianji asked.
"Having devised such a brilliantly cunning escape plan, of course he’d leave me a message—partly to gloat, partly because he wants to reconcile."
Song Qianji: "Reconcile? After you sealed him under a tree, he’d just let bygones be bygones?"
"He told me the Sky-Supporting Tree is weakening, and a great calamity approaches the world. We should set aside old grievances and save the tree first. I believe that much—if the tree collapses, his true form will surely perish. He’s trying to save himself." Xian Jianchen put away the tea set and lowered his gaze.
The dim yellow lantern light softened his usual flippant arrogance, and his sharply defined features took on a trace of compassion:
"Truthfully, if he had refrained from causing more trouble, I might have granted his avatars a chance at survival. But his proposed plan is too extreme and mad—I cannot allow it. Over the years, I’ve traveled to the ends of the earth, searching for his avatars. Yet the aura of the Sky-Supporting Tree is part of the world’s origin, one with heaven and earth. If he focuses on hiding, even I find it difficult to detect him. He operates in the shadows, while I remain in the light."
Song Qianji’s heart stirred with a thought.Wuxiang's plan in his previous life indirectly caused many tragedies, ultimately failing at the last moment; in this lifetime, having seen the Three Lives Stone, he decided to destroy the world and rebuild a new one.
After several encounters with Wuxiang, he realized that although this man's ideas were insane, his actions were meticulous and well-planned, truly the greatest adversary he had ever faced in his life.
Song Qianji said, "All these years, you've been searching alone? Why didn't you find more helpers?"
"He's cunning, always making me suspect others are him. I know he wants to force me to mistakenly kill innocents, to make me doubt everyone. It wasn't until three years ago that I confirmed the 'Miracle Hand Monk' Wuxiang was one of his incarnations. I chased him to the Dead Sea, searched for him for three more years, fought him once, and the result... let's not talk about the result."
Song Qianji couldn't resist the chance to jab Xian Jianchen: "The result is you didn't win, got injured instead, and had to come to Thousand Canals to find me!"
"That's called mutual destruction! Mutual destruction, alright?!" Xian Jianchen slammed the table.
Song Qianji calculated the timing and snorted coldly: "Before chasing him to the Dead Sea, you still left yourself an escape route—coming to Hua Wei City to place a master-disciple contract on me!"
"That was an accident!" Xian Jianchen shouted, "Who was it that first claimed to be this venerable's disciple and caught my attention?!"
Song Qianji didn't want to argue with him about this: "So you're saying, if we want to kill him now, we first need to break the seal you left behind?"
Xian Jianchen comforted him: "Once I retrieve my Lifebound Sword, with our combined efforts, we might have a chance."
Song Qianji pressed urgently: "Since Wuxiang is just an incarnation, what was his original identity? Why did you become enemies three hundred years ago? Why did you seal him instead of killing him back then? At the very least, you should tell me his real name!"
Xian Jianchen stood up, his expression changing: "We've reached shore, let's go!"
Song Qianji was momentarily speechless, almost suspecting he was deliberately changing the subject.
The Silver Island Whale opened its massive mouth, spewing a waterfall-like torrent, from which two tiny figures were ejected with the water.
The Silver Island Whale swung its tail, stirring up giant waves, then turned and vanished into the sea.
The rainstorm had stopped. The rising sun, lifted by the waves, spread ten thousand golden rays across the sea's surface.
Song Qianji controlled the Shadowless Sword, skimming between sea and sky, overtaking white seagulls.
Xian Jianchen sat behind him, breathing in the fresh air deeply, spreading his arms to embrace the sun: "Black sea birthing golden sun—isn't it beautiful?"
Song Qianji scanned the horizon and retorted irritably: "What's the use of beauty? The whale you picked is completely directionless—it landed on the wrong shore!"
According to the original plan, they needed to cover as much distance as possible before their enemies discovered them.
"It didn't land wrong. I precisely want to meet an old acquaintance." Xian Jianchen adjusted his appearance, pinning a small flower to his lapel. "How do I look? Full of vigor? Dashing and elegant?"
Both wore fox-tail bracelets that made their appearances extremely ordinary, so they really didn't look remarkable at all.
"Brother, do you even understand the situation? If our identities are exposed, we'll be hunted! Are you actually thinking of meeting some romantic interest, engaging in sentimental nonsense?" Song Qianji vibrated the Shadowless Sword. "You get off, I'm going ahead."
"Don't slander me, kid! I'm a married man!" Xian Jianchen asked, "You really won't go? Speaking of which, this person could be considered your old acquaintance too."
As they spoke, the Shadowless Sword raced like light.
Song Qianji faintly glimpsed towering mountains piercing the clouds, purple mist floating between the peaks. He took a deep breath: "Let's go."The mountains and rivers stand so lofty and vast, the heavens and earth stretch so endlessly wide—what does it matter to visit old acquaintances?
...
The farther they traveled from the Dead Sea, the more flying swords filled the sky.
Since the news of "Song Qianji’s death" spread, the Cultivation World had split into two opposing factions, and the atmosphere grew tense.
In the past, when cultivators met in relatively safe areas, they would occasionally pause to greet each other, asking questions like, "Where are you from, fellow Daoist, and where are you headed?" or "You’re not wearing sect robes—are you a Rogue Cultivator too? Shall we travel together?"
But now, as Song Qianji flew onward, the passing cultivators all hurried along with wary expressions.
The Huawel Sect had been sending out invitations far and wide, uniting eighteen sects and clans, both large and small, to form the "Righteous Immortal Alliance," aiming to reclaim Thousand-Ditch Prefecture.
Thousand Canals refused to become a territory of the Huawel Sect again. After Wei Wang of the Northern Desert issued the God Temple Declaration, cultivators from all over rushed to support Thousand Canals, opposing the Huawel Sect’s tyranny. Surprisingly, Chen Hongzhu’s faction, the "Little Huawel Sect," was also among the opposition.
The curtain had been fully drawn on the great upheaval in the Cultivation World. All the long-accumulated conflicts, suppressed grievances, anger, and injustices were ignited at once like a blazing fire.
Some factions, unwilling to join the struggle, remained neutral and secluded themselves behind closed doors.
But in a world as murky as muddy waters, who could truly remain untouched?
If your close friends were drawn into the war and died as a result, would you seek revenge for them?
If your relatives and friends invited you to lend a hand, could you simply stand by and do nothing?
Amid the panic of a chaotic era, prices in the Cultivation World soared, and even Purple Cloud City, which had enjoyed peace for many years, was no exception.
"Shopkeeper, I’m not buying finished talismans, just these talisman papers and cinnabar." Song Qianji was shocked. "Are you sure you didn’t miscalculate?"
"Sir, where do talismans come from if not from talisman paper and cinnabar?" The portly shopkeeper tapped his abacus, too lazy to bother with the two unremarkable Foundation Establishment cultivators who spoke with out-of-town accents. "Staple goods like rice, flour, oil, needles, and coarse cloth haven’t gone up in price, but do you even need those?"
Xian Jianchen leaned smugly against the curio cabinet, watching the scene with amusement and mimicking, "Do you even need those, sir?"
The shopkeeper snatched a feather duster and began swatting it around the cabinet. "Hey, step aside a bit, will you? Every artifact in this cabinet is precious. If you break one, don’t blame me for making things difficult for you."
Xian Jianchen’s eyes widened in shock, his expression shifting rapidly. "This, this venerable one, this—"
Song Qianji discreetly kicked him, signaling him to calm down. "He means we’re all one family! He says all cultivators under heaven are one family. Can’t you give us a discount?"
"Oh, dear! Have you two just emerged from some remote mountain retreat, completely unaware of the current situation? There’s a war coming! All cultivation supplies have tripled in price. You can’t expect me to sell at a loss, can you? Hurry up and decide. If you’re not buying, step aside."
Song Qianji gritted his teeth. "We’ll take it!"
His talisman papers had been depleted in Blood River Valley, and beyond Purple Cloud City, there was nowhere to replenish them.
This world is utterly unreasonable. How is it that even cinnabar prices soar the moment I "die"?
Song Qianji’s hearing was sharp, and even after leaving the shop, he could still hear the shopkeeper and his assistant snickering: "All cultivators under heaven are one family? What nonsense. A couple of bumpkins—do they think they’re the King of Thousand Canals?"
Xian Jianchen burst out laughing. "You think you’re the King of Thousand Canals? But these merchants in Purple Cloud City, backed by Purple Cloud Mountain, certainly have some nerve."
Song Qianji flicked his sleeve. "Keep laughing, and you’re paying next time!"
Xian Jianchen grumbled, "Thousand Canals is so prosperous, so why is its king so stingy?"
...The skies above Purple Cloud Mountain were filled with restrictions, prohibiting the passage of all Flying Magical Artifacts.
The two men made thorough preparations in Purple Cloud City before proceeding into the mountains on foot.
At dusk, the mountain path was filled with laughter. Mortal pilgrims descended with their families in tow, brushing past the two travelers.
Due to the thriving incense offerings at the temple, the mountain was perpetually shrouded in a faint haze, resembling a purple cloud when viewed from afar.
As Song Qianji reached the mountain gate archway, he heard the evening bell toll three times, its echoes lingering long in the air.
Weary crows returned to their nests, and travelers dispersed completely. Amid the tranquil emerald hues of the mountain, the ancient bronze bell marked yet another golden twilight day after day.
The setting sun was infinitely beautiful.
Song Qianji took a deep breath, the clear, cool fragrance of plants and trees permeating his lungs, washing away the chilly sea breeze and the dusty heat.
A Daoist page guarding the mountain gate bowed: "Fellow Daoists, the bell has already tolled. We are not receiving pilgrims or performing divinations today."
Song Qianji tilted his head toward Xian Jianchen, signaling with his eyes for the other to withdraw first and find mountain paths or weaknesses in the formations to infiltrate after nightfall.
Xian Jianchen removed the red flower from his lapel: "Give this to the temple master. He will naturally come out to receive me."
"Who are you?"
"I am his..." Xian Jianchen pondered briefly, "...his master's friend."
The purple-robed Daoist page stood beneath the dense emerald shadows, nodding blankly: "Wait here. If you're deceiving me, I'll return to teach you a lesson!"
The young page clattered away in his wooden sandals, the sound fading into the distance.
Song Qianji looked somewhat surprised: "You're actually being this courteous? Oh, I understand—you also fear the formations of Purple Cloud Temple!"
Xian Jianchen smiled: "There are two kinds of people in this world."
"Huh??"
"Those who have disciples, and those who don't."
Xian Jianchen straightened his sleeves and collar once more, "Nian Rushing is gravely ill and still lacks a successor to his legacy. As someone with a disciple, of course I must bring my disciple for him to see. Why should I quarrel with him? If he ignores me, I can always fight my way up the mountain later and dismantle his temple... cough... Do you have a bronze mirror? Let me see if your master appears dashing and elegant."
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