Song Qianji returned to his small courtyard and first took out the lotus leaves from his storage bag, placing them along with their roots and mud into the water jar under the eaves.
There wasn't enough mud, so he decided to go to Yaoguang Lake himself next time without Meng Heze, setting off in the dead of night to avoid the crowds. After all, the lotus seeds he was soaking hadn't sprouted yet, so there was no rush for a day.
Under the bright moonlight, he carefully walked through the vegetable patch, occasionally crouching down to feel the soil and sense the vitality of the crops. This allowed him to know which plants needed watering, which needed their soil turned, and which needed protection from the cold.
Meng Heze went to the kitchen and cooked a small bowl of sour soup noodles for Senior Brother Song as a midnight snack.
Work could be skipped for a day, but noodles couldn't go uncooked for even one day. The refreshing and appetizing sour soup, topped with finely chopped green onions and diced radish, steamed warmly in the night air as he brought it to the table. There, he found Song Qianji carving bamboo planks.
"Senior Brother, what are you making?"
"Reinforcing the flower trellis to withstand wind and rain."
Meng Heze looked up.
The moon was bright, the stars clear—a night bathed in serene light.
"Is it going to rain tonight?"
"It will rain eventually."
Meng Heze thought to himself that preparing for rain before it fell made sense.
After finishing the noodles, Song Qianji used hemp rope and bamboo planks to secure the loose parts of each fence frame.
Meng Heze said cheerfully, "I just realized today that the flower trellis looks best when built with varying heights. If they were all uniformly neat, it would lack charm."
Song Qianji replied, "It's not for aesthetics. If it's too high, the flowers won't fill the frame; if it's too low, the frame won't be enough for the flowers. Each plant has its ideal height for growth."
Meng Heze scratched his head and followed behind Song Qianji, wanting to help. But although Song Qianji's movements were neither hurried nor slow, they carried a unique rhythm, as if blending with the moonlight, the night breeze, and the garden full of flowers and vegetables.
As an outsider, Meng Heze couldn't integrate into this rhythm and found no place to assist. Facing a simple fence frame felt like confronting a difficult battle.
Fortunately, Meng Heze was perceptive. He unconsciously began to observe.
He observed every movement of Song Qianji, even each breath. He could sense an indescribable precision and smoothness, making the rare treasures in his possession seem insignificant.
He thought, since returning from Yaoguang Lake—or more accurately, after hearing about the Great Evolution Sect Spiritual Spring—Senior Brother Song seemed somewhat different.
After finishing the rough work in the field, Song Qianji took the damp cloth Meng Heze had prepared and wiped his hands.
He leaned back in the reclining chair, gazing at the lush courtyard under the moonlight, listening to the chirping of insects in the grass by the wall, and sighed contentedly.
Then, maintaining this posture and breathing, he remained unchanged.
"Senior Brother, would you like some tea?" Meng Heze asked.
"No."
"What are you doing now?"
"Waiting."
"Waiting for whom?"
"Waiting for the spring rain." Song Qianji leaned in the reclining chair, a hint of a smile in his eyes as if waiting for an old friend. "If you have nothing to do, wait with me."
Meng Heze thought to himself that he was on the verge of a breakthrough, his meridians full like overflowing rivers. Further cultivation was useless now; all he could do was wait.
But why was Senior Brother Song waiting?
Rain would fall when it was meant to; if the heavens didn't wish it, no amount of bowing or ritual dancing would bring it. Who would just sit and wait idly?
If it weren't Song Qianji doing this, he would have thought the person was out of their mind.
But now, he lifted the hem of his robe, sat cross-legged beside the reclining chair, and attuned himself to the rhythm of the other's breathing.
The night grew deeper, the wind stronger, blowing through his high ponytail and making the strands brush against his cheeks with a faint itch.He heard Song Qianji say: "Every cultivator has a chance to converse with heaven and earth during their breakthrough. Even from the Qi Refining Stage to Foundation Establishment, though the time is too brief—only a millionth of an instant."
Unconsciously, Meng Heze was drawn into meditation by the breathing rhythm of the person beside him, forgetting where he was.
He felt the flow of blood throughout his body slow down. Spirit Qi coursed through his meridians like swollen streams, swelling until his meridians ached.
His Divine Sense retreated into his Purple Palace, surrounded by a hundred rivers, yet he felt suffocated.
It was like being trapped in a windowless room, stifling and unbearable.
What do you want? A voice suddenly asked.
It's too stifling! I gasped for air and cried out loudly.
I want a rain! A torrential, unrestrained downpour!
A gale swept the ground, dark clouds gathered in the night sky, obscuring the moonlight.
Flowers and leaves in the small courtyard rustled and danced, the fence frame swayed and creaked but did not collapse.
A flash of lightning illuminated the scene. Meng Heze felt someone beside him gently push his shoulder:
"Go now."
Instantly, surging heaven and earth Spirit Qi roared forth, nearly forming an invisible vortex that poured into the crown of his head, scouring and widening every meridian. Like breaking mountains and splitting rocks, it surged violently before finally converging into his Purple Palace.
Boom!
Thunder cracked across the sky!
Meng Heze's eyes snapped open.
He touched the cold droplets on his cheeks, momentarily dazed.
Returned to the mortal world.
What was falling? Countless silver threads descended from the sky, drifting with the wind, enveloping the flowers and plants, the small courtyard, the entire world.
What was making that sound? Countless water droplets danced wildly among flowers and leaves—a dense, crisp pattering. When they struck the courtyard walls and tiles, they produced a different, muffled echo.
He suddenly didn't recognize the scene before him.
"It's raining." A familiar voice sounded above his head.
Raining? Yes, it was raining!
Meng Heze jumped up with a cry, like a newborn baby seeing and feeling wind and rain for the first time. He spread his hands to catch the rain curtain and shouted:
"Senior Brother Song, it's really raining!"
He had forgotten his own breakthrough.
"Mm. Let's go back." Song Qianji stood up, feeling quite pleased.
Rain was vitality from beyond. This spring rain fell, giving life to countless living beings. Not only had Meng Heze broken through, but he had also cleared all the blockages in his own body and sorted out the framework for his self-created Cultivation Method.
What should this cultivation method be called? Let's call it "Joyful Rain on a Spring Night."
The great river flows east, a night of good rain.
At dawn, Song Qianji stepped out of the small house, squinting slightly in the clear sunlight.
The morning sun broke through the clouds. Wisteria petals lay scattered across the ground, yet new flowers had bloomed. The entire garden was in bloom.
Vegetables glistened with crystalline water droplets. Song Qianji moved joyfully through the vegetable patches.
Eggplant flowers bloomed shyly. He had to push aside the leaves to see the purple blossoms hiding demurely, bowing their heads to the morning breeze.
Cucumber flowers bloomed exuberantly, their bright yellow dazzlingly vivid. Whether small cucumbers grew beneath them or not, they stood tall and proud. Their stems were covered with fine fuzz that felt slightly prickly and itchy to the touch, like a furry spiritual beast nuzzling playfully in his palm.
When Meng Heze came to make cold tossed dishes in the afternoon, this would make an excellent dish.
Song Qianji walked out of the vegetable patch and pushed open the vermilion gate of the small courtyard.
Outside, the hyacinth bean flowers bloomed most beautifully. From their centers to the petal edges, the bluish-purple faded from deep to light, like tiny butterflies.
Afraid of startling them, Song Qianji gently reached out and touched them.Just at that moment, bells and drums sounded in unison.
Beyond the courtyard walls, amidst the mountain ranges, solemn Taoist music began to play.
The entire Huawel Sect was filled with ethereal melodies, audible everywhere.
Outer sect disciples rushed out of their doors, gazing up at the sky in astonishment. The open space outside the dormitories was packed with people.
The morning clouds painted the sky, auspicious colors shimmered, and a towering pavilion seemed to glide through the clouds, casting a vast shadow below.
Song Qianji’s heart stirred slightly—had the Calligrapher Sage arrived?
"Senior Brother Song!"
Meng Heze, who had stayed outside the courtyard gate all night in the rain, hurried forward as soon as he saw Song Qianji emerge.
A Foundation Building cultivator could easily withstand wind, rain, heat, or cold with minimal Spirit Qi consumption, but last night, Meng Heze had deliberately let himself be drenched.
The disciples, who had been looking up at the clouds outside the courtyard, suddenly noticed him, and someone exclaimed in delight, "Brother Meng has broken through!"
Instantly, the crowd surged forward, engulfing Meng Heze at the entrance of Song Courtyard.
"Congratulations, Brother Meng!"
"Our Outer Sect has produced a Foundation Building cultivator too!"
Meng Heze’s breakthrough had occurred overnight—without the aid of spirit-nourishing elixirs, a Spirit gathering array, the guidance of elders, or even a single Qi Nourishing Talisman.
No one would believe it if word got out.
Moreover, his breakthrough was not forced; instead, his foundation was exceptionally solid. Every one of his meridians resembled tree roots saturated with rainwater, no less impressive than the core disciples of Huawel Sect.
He knew Song Qianji had helped him the previous night, but he had no idea how it was possible.
News of Meng Heze’s breakthrough spread like wildfire fanned by a spring breeze, sweeping across the entire Outer Sect.
In the past, while others might have envied or congratulated him, there would have been underlying jealousy.
But recently, the relationship between the Outer and Inner Sects had deteriorated daily, shifting from exploitation to mutual hostility. To discipline the Outer Sect disciples, the Deacon Hall had assigned increasingly arduous and harsh tasks, leading to two collective strikes.
The Deacon Hall had tried to divide and conquer, attempting to bribe Zhou Xiaoyun and others with promises of cultivation resources. However, the disciples had already experienced the benefits of unity and were no longer willing to fall for such tactics.
Unfortunately, their cultivation levels were low, mostly at the early stages of Qi Refining, leaving them at a disadvantage in terms of momentum.
Meng Heze’s breakthrough at this moment was like an anchor stabilizing the seas, filling everyone with excitement and fervor.
"As long as we cultivate diligently, even without the resources of the Inner Sect, we can still achieve Foundation Establishment."
"I may not have Brother Meng’s talent or insight, but I can at least strive for Great Perfection in Qi Refining."
Surrounded by praise and congratulations, Meng Heze still felt somewhat dazed: "I owe everything to Senior Brother Song’s guidance. Song…"
When he looked up again, Song Qianji had already closed the door and returned to tilling the land.
※※※
Sunrise over the sea of clouds.
The Flying Cloud Tower descended from the clouds. Twelve stories high, it resembled a towering mountain yet landed lightly and steadily in front of Huawel Sect’s grandest guest hall.
Huawel Sect had prepared in advance. Sect Leader Xu Yun, along with the various Peak Lords and elders, stood waiting in the plaza before the hall.
Every glazed tile on the hall’s roof had been cleansed with spells, reflecting golden light under the morning sun.
In the Cloud Sea Grand Formation, every five-colored carp had been fed the night before, leaping spiritedly through the clouds.
As soon as the tower touched the ground, solemn ceremonial music resounded, echoing through Huawel Sect and resonating across the mountains.
"When I was young, I loved excitement, but now that I’m old, I find it a bit noisy."
The Calligrapher Sage sat on the highest floor of the tower, sighing softly.
On the table before him, there was no incense burner or scrolls—only a single Qi Nourishing Talisman. Aside from Dean Qingya, none of the academy’s many powerful attendants were present.There were only twelve people dressed in peculiar attire.
These individuals, both men and women, varied in height and build—some men were adorned in flamboyant reds and greens with glittering hairpins, while some women had broad shoulders and sturdy frames like tigers. They stood out starkly against the solemnity of the Flying Cloud Tower, as if they had just closed up their market stalls and rushed over to attend to the Calligrapher Sage.
Six shadowy shops, each with one shopkeeper and one assistant.
The dean listened to the fervent ceremonial music outside the tower: "If it displeases you, I shall go down and dismiss them!"
"How can guests visit someone’s home without meeting the host?" the Calligrapher Sage shook his head. "Courtesy must be observed."
The dean bowed his head in agreement. "Yes."
Satisfied, the Calligrapher Sage nodded, pushed open the window beside him, leaned out, and called, "Good morning, everyone!"
The crowd in front of the hall suddenly heard a voice descending from the heavens, as if listening to celestial sounds, and shuddered in unison.
The ceremonial music ceased abruptly. Everyone focused their minds and pricked up their ears, eager to receive the Great Adept’s teachings, hoping to grasp profound insights and gain immense benefits. But the second sentence never came, leaving them no choice but to collectively turn their gaze toward the sect leader, Xu Yun.
The Calligrapher Sage turned back and muttered to the dean, "Why is no one responding to me?"
True Person Xuyun was also at a loss, craning his neck to look up at the high tower: "Are you well—"
The Calligrapher Sage waved cheerfully. "I’m fine. No need to trouble yourselves. See you next time."
With that, he slammed the window shut with a clang.
The cultivators below exchanged bewildered glances, wondering if those two sentences held some hidden meaning. When exactly was "next time," and what auspicious significance did it carry?
Chief Steward Zhao Yuping steeled himself and inquired, "The first movement of the ceremonial music hasn’t finished yet, the flowers haven’t been scattered, the colored silks haven’t been unfurled, and there are six more arrangements to follow. Now..."
Did this mean it was over? Seeing the sect leader’s grim expression, he left the sentence unfinished.
Xu Yun fell silent, his gaze shifting from the Flying Cloud Tower to the direction of the back mountain, before he finally sighed deeply. "Dismissed."
The dean chuckled. "You certainly have a way."
Xiao Zhuo, the pawnshop assistant, was baffled.
Was this really observing courtesy? Did it make sense or not?
But he had to admit—the method was straightforward.
If only the current matter could be resolved so simply.
The Calligrapher Sage urged, "Continue."
The atmosphere relaxed once more, and the pawnshop manager stepped forward:
"Our people have secretly combed through the entire Hua Wei City but found no one with matching brush habits, stroke intent, or talisman essence."
He couldn’t wrap his head around it. The person’s posture while writing talismans was practiced, suggesting frequent use, yet none of their Talismans circulated in the market. Clearly impoverished, why wouldn’t they write talismans to exchange for Spirit Stones? Did they not need cultivation resources?
If they were to search openly with a portrait, it would be easy to find them. But judging by the Calligrapher Sage’s intent, the venerable one temporarily didn’t want others to know—not even the person being sought.
"Didn’t he buy a zither?" said the man decked in red and green. "Surely you can track the zithers you’ve sold? How hard is it to follow the trail?"
Assistant Xiao Zhuo replied, "Shopkeeper Hua, of course I recognize the zithers I crafted. But there are tens of thousands of Green Ripple Platforms in Hua Wei City now. Because of the Grand Audience Assembly, many Sound Cultivators have gathered here just to seek Fairy Miaoyan’s guidance on zither techniques. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack!"
The tall, broad-shouldered woman interjected:
"Didn’t he come to pawn a sword to buy the zither? Show me the sword!"
The pawnshop manager said:"I took a rough look at that sword—it really was a low-grade broken blade. Blacksmith Zhang, I know you can analyze the materials and usage marks to deduce the sword owner's background, but that sword is no longer here."
"Gone?"
The shopkeeper sighed: "Wei Ping bought it."
Everyone was stunned.
The rice shop apprentice couldn't help exclaiming:
"Wei Ping again! He's everywhere!"
The Calligrapher Sage laughed heartily.
The others couldn't bring themselves to laugh. Did this mean they couldn't find that young talismaster?
They all thought simultaneously that if the Calligrapher Sage came all this way only to find nothing, how disappointed he must be. After all, the Sage was no longer young.
"Don't worry. Thinking back carefully, when that young man entered the shop, he had a red paper crane pinned to his front lapel. Without physical evidence now, we can only rely on my memory. If I remember wrong and we find the wrong person..."
The Calligrapher Sage waved his hand: "No matter, speak."
"That paper crane was actually a talisman. Years ago, Sect Leader Xu Yun commissioned a talismaster from our academy to specially make a batch, but only his daughter Chen Hongzhu ever used them. They could both track locations and transmit messages. Chen Hongzhu has been spoiled and willful since childhood, often getting into trouble. Xu Yun feared she might encounter danger when he couldn't reach her in time, so he made her carry it with her."
Seeing everyone's astonished expressions, the shopkeeper felt somewhat proud: "This talisman—Chen Hongzhu only ever gave it to one person!"
"Daring to keep us in suspense before the Sage!" laughed the burly butcher shop owner.
"I wouldn't dare! The person Chen Hongzhu gave it to was an Outer Sect disciple named Song Qianji. I once overheard Huawel Sect patrolling disciples gossiping that she gave him the talisman because he was handsome, so he could come and go freely! But this Song Qianji isn't a talismaster—no one has ever seen him write talismans. So I can't be certain."
"This Song Qianji is quite famous," the academy head laughed. "If it's really him, then it's simple! Last night this person was at Yaoguang Lake, where he plucked the flower from Feng Ziyi's hair. I heard Feng girl's Natal spirit beast is a rare Exotic Fire White Tiger—he's quite bold!"
The cosmetics shop owner wondered strangely:
"He sold his sword to buy a zither as a gift for a female cultivator, but Chen Hongzhu never plays the zither, and Feng Ziyi definitely doesn't either! Who did he give it to?"
"Need you ask? Of course it was another female cultivator who plays the zither!" The Calligrapher Sage suddenly spoke up, shaking the Profiteer Talisman on the table with a rustling sound:
"Bastard. Wasting his talent, squandering his time! Instead of cultivating at home during his prime years, not writing talismans or practicing calligraphy, all he knows is flirting with flowers and grass, stirring up trouble!"
But his tone didn't sound truly angry—more like scolding his own junior. The academy head thought, this is truly rare. So many academy disciples line up hoping to hear him scold them, but never get the chance.
Xiao Zhuo thought, while you scold him with your words, in your heart you probably see something of your younger self in him.
The young apprentice didn't really understand what "being sentimental" meant.
He once heard the academy head mock those who painstakingly sought opportunities:
"They actually think writing some pretentious poems, painting a few portraits of beauties, and currying favor with female cultivators counts as being sentimental? Putting on airs, trying to draw a tiger but ending up with a dog—I'm afraid it would only earn the master's displeasure."
He had once asked the Calligrapher Sage about this. The Sage said:
"Being sentimental isn't about being fickle or half-hearted. One must have feelings for this world that are sufficiently rich and abundant, overflowing to stream from the brush tip and pour onto the paper, only then forming characters with flesh and blood. Once you have the bones and flesh, you don't need every stroke to be flawless, nor every character to exert force.""How much affection truly lies in the heart, whether genuine or false—words may deceive others, but the brush upon paper cannot deceive oneself!"
The Academy Head remarked:
"It seems you are quite satisfied with him."
The Calligrapher Sage shook his head: "It's too early. I've observed Wei Ping for a year; one cannot judge him in just three days. I must test him further."
"Do you wish to see his performance in the Calligraphy and Painting Examination?"
"No, I've already seen this talisman. I want to observe what cannot be seen on paper. What I give him is his; if he tries to seize it, then he lacks the destiny!"
Then the Calligrapher Sage spoke a series of words. It was a test, a strategy, and moreover, a chain of schemes.
After hearing him, everyone couldn't help but show bitter expressions. What cultivator climbing the path of immortality could resist such temptation? That person is merely a youth, not a sage.
On second thought, in recent years, haven't they seen enough of the various families employing schemes and acting to pave the way for their descendants?
True gold fears no fire—whether Song Qianji is scrap iron or gold, one test will tell.
Xiao Zhuo nodded outwardly, thinking to himself, "You truly live up to being the old angler by the Ink Pond!"
Even though there are no fish in the pond, you're still the seasoned fishing rod!
As if knowing what they were thinking, the Calligrapher Sage laughed: "I've seen too many who fish for fame and pretend to be noble. It's hard not to be cautious. Go now. The tailor shop will prepare the props. Hua Wei, owner of the rouge shop, you handle your old trade. The rest of you, assist as needed!"
"Yes!"
After giving his orders, the Calligrapher Sage stood up and paced. He pushed open the window, gazing at the distant mountain scenery.
The Huawel Sect was bustling with activity, vibrant with spring colors, yet the back mountain remained as quiet and secluded as ever.
"Has that ghost arrived?" the Calligrapher Sage asked.
"I heard it reached the back mountain last night. The people at Purple Cloud Temple haven't made a sound. Besides us and the Huawel Sect Leader, no one knows," the Academy Head replied.
The Calligrapher Sage snorted lightly.
"He followed here just to pick up ready-made gains! Shameless old fool!"
No one in the tower responded; everyone wore complex expressions.
"This person was found by me first. If he dares to compete with me again..." The Calligrapher Sage recalled last year's matter concerning Wei Ping and said coldly, "I will pour the entire Ink Pond over his chessboard."
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