Song Qianji had lived two lifetimes, but this was his first time being a tree.
If anyone called him "truly inhuman" in the future, he wouldn't be able to refute it.
Accompanied by the narration, he diligently practiced taking root, sprouting, growing leaves, blooming, and perceiving the outside world.
Flowing clouds passed by him, gentle breezes brushed through him, and gradually he could feel the temperature transmitted from the celestial dome above and taste the sweet, fresh flavor of Thousand-Ditch Prefecture's fertile soil.
How marvelous.
"Excellent work! Keep it up, Song Qianji!" the narration cheered professionally. "Once your soul is nourished a bit stronger, you'll be able to send dreams to the outside world!"
"Send dreams?"
"As long as someone is thinking of you and praying devoutly for you, you can enter their dreams through the power of faith and vows," the narration explained. "You can try sensing the faith—wherever golden light glows, that's who you can send dreams to..."
Following the narration's guidance, Song Qianji calmed his mind and channeled his consciousness into the countless roots spreading across the continent. In his dark vision, a dazzling golden light suddenly illuminated www.hetushu.com.
The specks of light were densely packed, covering the entire world, making him gasp and immediately shut off his perception.
Just how many little statues had Liu the Carpenter produced? Had they been exported overseas?
"I'd better focus on mastering blooming," Song Qianji said.
...
"In the final years of the old calendar, the great calamity descended. The heavens crumbled and the earth split, the sun and moon lost their light. The King of Thousand Canals sacrificed himself to merge with the Dao, transforming into the Sky-Supporting Tree, restoring vitality to all things and peace to the human world..."
Clear reading voices drifted out the window, startling sparrows preening on branches into flight.
Soon enough, the birds returned, chirping nonchalantly as if accustomed to the scene, accompanying the classroom's recitations.
The autumn air was crisp and refreshing, making people feel invigorated. The eight- or nine-year-old students swayed their heads rhythmically while reciting historical texts, not a single one dozing off.
Sitting in the back rows were over ten young men around fourteen or fifteen years old, not wearing school uniforms, who also recited the "Annals of the Thousand Canals Divine King" with near-devout seriousness.
Every year, countless young people traveled great distances from around the world to study at Thousand Canals Academy, taking exams to join classes as advanced students, known as "roving scholars."
After finishing a section of text, the teacher routinely asked for reflections.
"I want to build a great ship that can fly without Spirit Stones, all the way to the continent's edge, to see the Sky-Supporting Tree with my own eyes."
"I want to weave the warmest clothing so ordinary people can wear it and withstand the snow plains' blizzards."
"I want to bring soil from Thousand Canals to add more earth around the Sky-Supporting Tree."
The roving students couldn't help but chuckle at the children's extraordinary imagination.
But how could Flying Magical Artifacts operate without Spirit Stone power? How could ordinary people cross the terrifying Ice-Cracking Abyss when they'd freeze to death entering the snow plains?
To their surprise, the usually strict teacher slowly nodded, without scolding them for wild fantasies, and gently encouraged: "Very good. I believe you can create the future."
The roving students exchanged glances, simultaneously thinking: "This is Thousand Canals."
Thousand Canals—the capital of a thousand chariots, the center of four continents, where miracles were born.
The firearms, looms, and farming tools created by ordinary people were exported everywhere. It was said that Thousand Canals' Spirit Stone Mine had already installed steam-powered machinery manufactured by ordinary workers from Thousand Canals' First Workshop.
Ten years after King Song merged with the Dao, Thousand-Ditch Prefecture developed rapidly, with the boundaries between cultivators and ordinary people long since blurred."Everyone, please take out the first volume, second part of 'Thousand Canals History' and turn to the chapter about the Zhao Family Immortal Officials increasing taxes." The teacher cleared his throat lightly, quieting the lively discussions in the classroom.
Seeing the change in atmosphere, the traveling students immediately sat upright—people of Thousand Canals never shied away from past sufferings and bloodshed; instead, they learned from hardship and cherished peace.
Before the reading could begin, a sudden commotion arose from downstairs. Over sixty young heads in the classroom grew restless, unable to resist peering out the windows.
The teacher frowned, about to scold them, but then glanced at the calendar on his desk and unexpectedly broke into a smile:
"Given today's date, you may look if you wish."
Cheers erupted instantly as students swarmed toward the windows, pushing them open and waving enthusiastically.
The classroom was on the third floor, offering a clear view of the main street below. The road was packed with crowds, petals and colorful ribbons swirling through the air as three magnificent carriages advanced side by side, moving slowly down the broad avenue.
The left carriage was adorned with crimson flame patterns, resembling burning desert fires; the middle one was extravagantly ornate, like a palace built of gold and jade; the right one shimmered with crystalline decorations of mica and vermilion shells, evoking the grand ships of the Western Sea.
"Look! Manager Wei has really returned!"
"It’s Ji Bianxiu!"
"Senior Brother Meng! Look at me—I’m joining the hunting team next year!"
The traveling students curiously crowded closer, standing on tiptoes to see, then suddenly understood: "Today is the fourteenth of August, no wonder."
"We’ve stumbled upon a major event this time!"
The Thousand Canals students grew even more excited: "Did your family place bets? Who’s your pick?"
"My father bet on Senior Brother Meng, but my mother chose Manager Wei."
"Last year, Ji Bianxiu cheated using the 'teleportation array.' This year, the others will surely be prepared, so it definitely won’t be Ji Bianxiu winning again."
"This is already the tenth year. I heard they’ve agreed that this time, no external assistance is allowed at all."
In search of the most suitable soul artifact materials, Ji Chen spared no expense and leveraged his natural gift for making connections, building a network across the four continents.
Meng Heze traveled to the Western Sea, excavating many hidden treasures from memory. Wei Zhenyu journeyed between the Northern Desert and Thousand Canals.
Thus, a long trade route opened, stretching from the Western Sea, through Thousand Canals, to the Northern Desert.
Under Meng Heze’s "corrupting influence," the Western Sea was no longer a demonic cultivator’s lair that none dared to enter—most of the evil factions, to save their lives, were forced to reform.
The tribes of the Northern Desert submitted to Wei Wang, ceasing their constant territorial disputes. The common people could live in peace, and markets akin to the Thousand Canal Bazaar emerged.
Ji Chen often visited Purple Cloud Temple to play chess with Li Ying, earning warm welcomes from all at the temple.
But every year on the fourteenth of August, no matter where they were—be it the ends of the earth or the corners of the sea—they would return to Thousand Canals.
That night, they drank together, enjoying Thousand Canals' nine-grid hotpot and grilled meat.
On the fifteenth of August, they would use the teleportation array to travel to the edge of the continent.
Initially, the three traveled together, but later they split up, competing to see who would reach the Sky-Supporting Tree first.
As their cultivation advanced and their mystical abilities grew, they began increasing the difficulty, agreeing not to use teleportation arrays that crossed the White Dragon River.
By the fifth year, they further agreed to only use obstruction and hindrance techniques, avoiding magical artifact combat to prevent harming bystanders.
In the sixth year, they added a rule forbidding the use of assistance from Thousand Canals' city guards, hunting teams, Northern Desert guards, and similar forces. More cultivators joined the competition—though they couldn’t contend for first place, participation was what mattered. People held this race in memory of Song Wang.In the seventh year, this extraordinary tale had spread across the continent, and the Thousand Canal Bazaar opened gambling pools. Tens of thousands participated in high-stakes betting.
By the eighth year, the "Race to the Finish" had become the premier event in the Cultivation World, with various gambling schemes flourishing everywhere.
Xu Kanshan and Qiu Dacheng acted as bookmakers in the Thousand Canal Bazaar, amassing enormous profits.
"Come one, come all! Bet on who will reach the Sky-Supporting Tree first! There are three candidates!"
Zhou Xiaoyun advised, "This is the tenth year, and I have a vague feeling something will change. Don't underestimate a female cultivator's intuition."
Ji Xing added, "Indeed, what if someone other than those three arrives first? Would the bookmakers have to pay out on all bets?"
Xu Kanshan retorted, "How is that possible? Who could be faster than them? I don't believe it."
Qiu Dacheng chimed in, "I don't believe it either. I'll make a bet with you: if it's not one of those three, I'll never gamble again!"
This year, the atmosphere in Song Courtyard was inexplicably tense.
The three drank under the moonlight, as if anticipating something, yet not daring to hope too much.
Before dawn, Song Courtyard was silent, the old cat in the corner lost in sweet dreams. Only the rustling of wind through flowers and leaves could be heard.
A figure leaped lightly over the courtyard wall: "After drinking my wine, we'll meet again in three days."
Meng Heze had improved the recipe for "Red Dust Wine" this year—initially sweet and seemingly mild, but with an intense delayed effect.
He made the first move, aiming to win from the starting line!
As his Flying Sword reached the lower reaches of the White Dragon River, he suddenly encountered a misty expanse of water and waves, blocked by a cloud-piercing tower.
Dozens of high-level cultivators jumped down from the tower, laughing and surrounding him.
A familiar voice rang out: "I really dare not drink wine from the Western Sea."
Meng Heze's expression shifted slightly: "Wei Zhenyu, we agreed no helpers this time!"
Wei Zhenyu replied, "We only agreed not to use readily available helpers. Look closely—these aren't from the Northern Desert or Thousand Canals."
Meng Heze examined the oddly dressed cultivators: "You can't hold me back. Why bother coming all this way?"
Wei Zhenyu was quite pleased: "Slowing you down is enough. I'm considered half a successor to the Calligrapher Sage, and these innkeepers have some ties with me. Would they help you instead of me?"
"Trying to delay me?" Meng Heze thought, Fortunately, I came prepared. He shouted, "Come out!"
Wei Zhenyu exclaimed, "You brought people from the Western Sea? You're breaking the rules!"
But then a group of cultivators in Huawel Sect uniforms surged from all sides, surrounding the cloud tower and Wei Zhenyu.
Though their cultivation levels were inferior to the innkeepers, they had the advantage in numbers, tight formation, and discipline.
Meng Heze called out, "How is Sect Leader Chen lately?"
A young cultivator answered, "Thank you for your concern, Senior Brother Meng. My master is well."
Wei Zhenyu put on a friendly smile: "Fellow Huawel cultivators, your sect is newly established with much to rebuild. Would you like assistance from the Northern Desert?"
Inwardly, he cursed, When did Meng Heze and Chen Hongzhu start colluding?
Meng Heze laughed, "Back when I successfully led Huawel Sect's Outer Sect disciples down the mountain, it was all thanks to Miss Chen's cover. Later, when Little Huawel Sect was rebuilding into the Orthodox Huawel Sect, I helped out, so we have some rapport. Save your breath."
Wei Zhenyu tried to break through, and Meng Heze also sought to break free.
Neither side used powerful Magical Artifacts, and the entire massive formation slowly shifted in mid-air.
As the sun set and the moon rose, the sky gradually darkened.
Neither side had ever fought such a tedious battle, leaving everyone dizzy and disoriented.Finally grinding their way from the lower reaches to the upper reaches of the White Dragon River, they felt a strange gravitational pull emanating from the river surface, forcing them to descend into the mountain forests to assess the situation.
They saw turbulent waters and raging waves.
Yet a small black-canopied boat was anchored in the center of the river, steady as a rock, completely unmoving.
Looking closer, who else could it be on the boat but Ji Chen?
Ji Chen sat at the bow with his legs crossed, casually fiddling with an Array Disk: "Look at this river—doesn't it resemble the one in Blood River Valley?"
Meng Heze: "You're pretending to be drunk too!"
Ji Chen thought to himself, I'm not pretending—I'm genuinely immune to intoxication.
He laughed and said, "Tonight, I've locked down the White Dragon River. Fishermen can pass, shrimp, crabs, fish, and turtles can pass, but cultivators cannot. Even if you muster thousands of troops, you won't find a way into this river."
Wei Zhenyu remained unmoved: "Back then, the Immortal Alliance couldn't seal this river even by lighting it with mermaid oil. How dare you boast so recklessly? Won't the gangs who depend on this river object?"
Meng Heze added, "If you tamper with the White Dragon River, you won't need us to take action—they won't stand for it either."
At this moment, the two who had been at odds earlier had unexpectedly become "us."
Unexpectedly, Ji Chen threw his head back with a laugh and shouted, "Friends, do you object?"
Whistles and hearty, boisterous laughter erupted from both riverbanks.
Gangs like the Fish-Dragon Gang and the Sand Sea Sect emerged from hiding, popping up all over the mountains and fields like groundhogs.
Yan Bangzhu said, "No matter, no matter. Young Brother Ji has spent Spirit Stones—let him occupy the river for one night."
Another voice shouted, "You Thousand Canals folks are competing—we won't take sides, we're just here to watch the show. Let's see you display your skills!"
"The mortal world has Mid-Autumn temple fairs, while our Cultivation World has a race competition!"
"What if King Song revives under the Sky-Supporting Tree tonight? Whoever is the strongest will be the one to receive the divine presence of God-King Song. Isn't that right, brothers?"
"Well said!"
In an instant, both riverbanks lit up as bright as day, with roaring cheers and chaos resembling a bustling market.
Meng Heze, Ji Chen, and Wei Zhenyu exchanged glances, genuinely suspecting that these people might have vaguely sensed something too.
Wei Zhenyu put on a pained expression: "Ji Chen, I never expected you to be this kind of person—using filthy Spirit Stones to bribe them!"
Ji Chen cupped his hands in a slight bow, looking somewhat troubled. "This humble one is merely fortunate—my ancestors were wealthy, so I'm genuinely quite rich."
Meng Heze nudged Wei Zhenyu: "Stop acting. Stalling is useless. That dumb Chaos you fed with 'Inexhaustible Fire' was lured away by me using two Iron Beasts. Who knows how small it's shrunk by now or where it's running wild—it certainly has no time to come help you."
Wei Zhenyu took two deep breaths and sneered, "You'll stop at nothing! Exploiting every loophole in the rules."
"Beasts" didn't count as "helpers"—at most, they were helping claws or helping feet.
"Likewise," Meng Heze tilted his chin toward Ji Chen's direction and transmitted his voice, "Now I'll summon the Iron Beasts to bring that dumb Chaos along and intercept this guy at Heavenly Qian Mountain."
"Agreed. Let's join forces to break the array, cross this river, and then rely on our own abilities."
Ji Chen turned amid the cheers from both banks of the White Dragon River, brimming with confidence: "Brother Wei, Brother Meng, take your time breaking the array. I'll be going ahead."
...
The three of them chased and fought all the way, sometimes cooperating, sometimes tripping each other up, finally arriving at the Sky-Supporting Forest at the edge of the continent just as the moon reached its zenith, shining with its brightest radiance."Who reached here first this time? A draw?" Ji Chen asked.
Meng Heze retorted angrily: "Clearly my left foot stepped in first!"
Wei Zhenyu remarked sarcastically: "Then I could say my hair ribbon floated in first."
Suddenly they fell silent simultaneously, as if pinned by a immobilization talisman, staring dumbfounded at the Sky-Supporting Tree.
The Sky-Supporting Tree still emitted golden radiance, resembling scattered fireflies in the night sky.
"Who is that?" Ji Chen murmured dazedly.
No one answered him. Meng Heze and Wei Zhenyu were equally stunned.
Nervous excitement of homecoming brought sudden tears to their eyes.
Meng Heze choked up: "Elder, elder brother... Wait, who's beside elder brother?"
...
Ziye Wenshu had come again.
Over the past decade, he often visited to write his diary, occasionally drinking some wine.
He never deliberately avoided others, though Green Cliff sometimes kept him busy with affairs, while other times months would pass uneventfully.
But every time he came, a new potato flower would bloom beside him, positioned conspicuously enough to spot at a glance.
This time felt different. No potato flowers grew beneath the tree.
Walking slowly, he searched everywhere without success, unconsciously taking a sip of wine.
"Learning to drink so soon?" a familiar voice sounded.
Ziye Wenshu turned to gaze blankly at the ethereal white figure.
"Not going to acknowledge me?" Song Qianji smiled. "Still holding a grudge?"
Ziye Wenshu's eyes deepened, his expression remaining impassive.
Should I not be angry?
What kind of friend behaves like you?
He wanted to turn and leave immediately.
But how had Song Qianji fared these ten years? Was the Sky-Supporting Tree's interior a pitch-black void?
Ziye Wenshu decided to inquire: "Was it difficult?"
"Not at all." Song Qianji shook his head.
"Were you lonely?"
"Not that either." Another head shake.
"Did you attain enlightenment?"
Song Qianji laughed: "The great path is found beyond death's door, this heart endures beneath the eternal moon."
"Excellent."
Assured that no major mishaps had occurred, Ziye Wenshu relaxed.
"Let's go."
"How? I cannot leave this tree's shade. Did you bring a soul vessel?" Song Qianji asked.
Autumn wind parted colored clouds as the moon shone serenely through the forest.
With a sudden poof, a black bamboo umbrella opened like a gigantic lotus flower, sheltering Song Qianji beneath it.
The space under the umbrella felt remarkably stable. Looking outward through the semi-transparent canopy didn't obstruct the view.
Song Qianji praised: "This object is truly marvelous."
Compared to dwelling in others' domains or possessing magical artifacts, he preferred moving independently.
Ziye Wenshu walked through the forest holding the umbrella as the two gradually faded into the distance.
"What do you wish to do now?"
"I'd love to farm."
"Spirits cannot farm."
"Then I want to watch others farm."
"..."
Wei Zhenyu scowled: "So what if he can intercept opportunities."
Meng Heze crossed his arms: "The moon will still be full next August fifteenth."
Ji Chen stood between them, draping arms over their shoulders: "Not just next year - it's practically full every year!"
"What are you standing around for—" Song Qianji suddenly turned back, his appearance vaguely resembling the youth who first descended Hua Wei Mountain.
He said: "Time to go home and harvest wheat."
The Sky-Supporting Tree glowed with soft golden light, watching the group depart into the distance.
Night breeze unfurled every budding potato flower, blanketing the continent's edge with pale purple blossoms. For an instant, seasons seemed inverted - spring flowers bloomed, spring breezes caressed, spring returned to earth.
How vast the land, how high the sky, how full the moon, how beautiful the flowers.
Amid the bustling mortal realm's endless troubles, how many springs does one encounter in a lifetime?
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