Since his rebirth, Song Qianji's mind had been solely on the fields and farmland.
With few worries and desires, a thousand days passed like one, fleeting as clouds and smoke.
But last night felt exceptionally long to him.
After submitting two nonsensical exam papers with Ji Chen, he went to observe the chess competition at Windy Mist Valley, guiding Ji Chen into the ways of chess.
Then he headed to Green Stone Pond to listen to the qin, drank some fruit wine afterward, ran to the mountain pavilion to play chess and compose poetry, and made a drunken scene.
When that person said they had met before, it wasn't entirely accurate. Qin Xian was in the pavilion, separated from him by a crowd and the expanse of the pond. Song Qianji couldn't see the person inside, only heard their commentary on the qin melody—
"Legacies last a thousand years, heroes meet their end."
This made Song Qianji feel genuinely awkward.
But the other party showed no such discomfort, scanning the small courtyard with their gaze. Seeing only a reclining chair under the flower trellis, they walked straight over and sat down.
Patting the soft cushion, they leaned back, adjusting to the most comfortable position.
It was a habit cultivated from long-held authority—wherever they were, it seemed as if they were naturally meant to sit while others stood.
Song Qianji's heart tightened—that's my chair!
Not only did Qin Xian take his chair, but they also casually plucked a cluster of wisteria hanging before them, admiring it while smiling faintly:
"Among the great qin melodies throughout history, 'Wind and Snow Array Entry Tune' ranks within the top ten. Last night, I kept wondering who could have composed such a piece."
Their demeanor was like that of a ruler claiming the small courtyard.
The wisteria trembled slightly, afraid to sway in the wind.
Song Qianji jolted, as if someone had grabbed his own cat by the scruff, and quickly stepped out from under the eaves, staring directly at the other:
"If you've come for this, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place." Gently, he extracted the wisteria cluster from their palm and soothingly stroked it. "This tune was taught to me by chance when I met a senior!"
Song Qianji had prepared a story.
He had told this story before in the Cosmos Palace, with True Person Xuyun, the Huawel Sect leader, as his audience. Now, confident and composed, he only needed to fill in some details.
Before he could speak, however, Qin Xian praised, "You're honest! I already know."
Song Qianji blinked, suddenly bewildered.
What do you know? How do you know?
Qin Xian laughed. "The Celestial Sound Sect often interacts with the Huawel Sect. I understand that kid Xuyun's temperament..."
Though youthful and exquisitely beautiful, they referred to the aged Xuyun as "that kid," creating a jarring contrast. "With your low cultivation and mortal origins, yet causing such upheaval in the Huawel Sect's Outer Sect—if you didn't have a powerful backer, Xuyun would have wiped you out long ago. How could you peacefully tend to your plants?"
Song Qianji thought, This is bad—I hadn't considered this angle!
But in the eyes of a powerful figure familiar with Xuyun and the Huawel Sect, it made perfect sense.
The other party had suddenly changed the script, and he couldn't keep up, so he had no choice but to keep listening.
"After last night, He Qingqing took a master, Ziye Wenshu achieved a breakthrough, and countless young people benefited together. The Celestial Sound Sect gained a senior sister, and the Azure Cliff Academy now has the most talented young cultivator. This tune has shaken the Cultivation World, its fame resonating across the lands. If the composer were found, no matter who they are, they would be showered with glory and rise swiftly. For you to tell me the truth without hesitation in such circumstances is truly rare..."
Song Qianji sensed the direction was wrong and hurriedly said, "That's only because this junior knows he can't hide it from you and had no choice but to speak the truth."Qin Xian seemed not to hear or did not believe his denial, asking only, "Who taught you this melody?"
Song Qianji couldn't be bothered to fabricate another name: "It was none other than Senior Xian Jianchen!"
The name that all Peak Lords and elders of Huawel Sect dared not mention rolled off his tongue with effortless ease, as if it were the undeniable truth.
"Oh?" Qin Xian's perpetually faint smile froze for an instant.
Then he closed his eyes.
Song Qianji wondered, could these two have some unresolved enmity? His memories held no such record, or he wouldn't have invoked this formidable name to invite trouble.
If there truly was bad blood, you should settle it with him—it has nothing to do with me or my vegetable patch.
Qin Xian opened his eyes and suddenly laughed.
This laughter differed from his earlier detached demeanor; his eyes curved as he slapped the armrest of his recliner in amusement:
"Xian Jianchen is aloof and arrogant, proclaiming himself above all but the sword path. All other Esoteric Arts beyond the sword he dismisses as 'petty arts,' never deigning to devote effort to them. Who would have thought he'd secretly memorize a qin score and even pass it down to a successor!"
Song Qianji felt even more awkward, silently apologizing to the solitary Sword God.
"Xian Jianchen has no kin or disciples, never taking on students. Since you could become his disciple, you must possess exceptional qualities," Qin Xian remarked.
Song Qianji: "I'm hardly a disciple. It was merely a chance encounter when the elder was in high spirits, imparting some knowledge casually."
"That you could learn what he taught so casually shows your comprehension is quite remarkable."
Song Qianji deflected again: "This junior is dull and clumsy, grasping less than a ten-thousandth of it!"
"How has Xian Jianchen been lately?"
"We met only once; I haven't seen him since."
Just as Song Qianji began to think the two were old friends, Qin Xian sighed: "He still hasn't died—what a pity."
Song Qianji was startled.
Qin Xian sighed again: "Not only has he not died, but he's also gained a successor—what a regret. He turned out to be the first among the four of us to have a disciple."
He stared at Song Qianji for a long moment, his expression inscrutable, as if trying to discern another's shadow, then abruptly said:
"He taught you something but didn't keep you by his side to guide you—that doesn't count as master and disciple. Would you be willing to learn the qin from me?"
Song Qianji's heart sank. Where did this come from?
"Senior flatters me, but this disciple has no interest in the path of music."
Qin Xian rose from his recliner and took two steps forward: "Come back to the Celestial Sound Sect with me. You'll be second to none, with endless cultivation resources. Opportunity knocks but once—are you truly unwilling to learn?"
In that moment, Song Qianji felt as if a great mountain were pressing down on him.
Gritting his teeth, he said, "I won't learn!"
Qin Xian asked earnestly: "But I insist that Xian Jianchen's disciple play my qin. What do you suggest we do?"
Clearly, it was he who wanted to take on a disciple, yet he shifted the problem onto others—truly overbearing.
Song Qianji pointed at the cucumber vine, stating the simplest truth in the world: "Forced fruit is never sweet!"
Qin Xian changed tactics again: "Trapped in this small courtyard, you're like a dragon stranded in shallow waters—what future is there?"
"No need to worry, I'll be descending the mountain soon." Song Qianji smiled, slightly proud. "I'm about to receive a fiefdom in the mortal realm."
Qin Xian was puzzled. The mortal realm's Spirit Qi was sparse, far inferior to that of major immortal sects and noble clans.
He asked, "What will you do there?"
Song Qianji's eyes lit up: "Farming!"
When he first revived, he hadn't declared this so boldly and righteously.
Because the fifteen-year-old Song Qianji was a diligent and hardworking Sword Cultivator. Changing overnight would have aroused suspicions of "soul displacement."But now, through subtle influence, the entire Outer Sect had grown accustomed to this and no longer found it strange, so he declared it resolutely.
Farming was farming—nothing could delay his farming!
Qin Xian was stunned.
This answer was truly unexpected.
Despite his vast experience, he had never encountered anything like it.
He once again surveyed the small courtyard, reexamining the vegetables on the ground, the flowers on the trellises, and the green vines on the walls, sensing their unique vitality and aura:
"Is this your Dao?"
"No." Song Qianji shook his head. "Why must everything be pursued with such intensity, everything seeking the Dao?"
Hearing this, Qin Xian knew there was no room for negotiation.
This junior could neither be killed nor recruited, leaving him utterly helpless.
Like wisteria in the wind, powerless to prevent the flowers from falling.
Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly sensed something: someone was rapidly approaching this place.
The newcomer was no weaker than him, capable of making him feel threatened—a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long time.
No, not just one person—two!
He pondered for a moment, as if calculating something.
Soon, he resumed his faint smile and said to Song Qianji:
"Since fate has brought us together, let me give you a gift."
"I cannot accept a reward without merit." Song Qianji shook his head.
Qin Xian retrieved a small wooden boat from his sleeve.
The boat shimmered with flowing light, its deck resembling rosewood, and its railings carved like white jade. Exquisitely crafted, it lay quietly in his palm.
"This is a Flying Magical Artifact. Though it's just a trivial trinket, it can travel a thousand miles in a day. If you don't accept it, how will you transport these crops to your fief?" Qin Xian lamented. "If the journey is too bumpy, even the most beautiful flowers will wither and die."
Song Qianji found this reasoning sound. He didn't mind hardship, but the crops were delicate.
If it was merely a Flying Magical Artifact, it truly wasn't particularly valuable.
"Then I shall give you something in return," he said.
Only three potato flowers remained in the field.
In pale purple, light blue, and pure white, he casually plucked one.
Qin Xian pinned the pale purple potato flower to the front of his black robe and strolled out the door.
Like a victor, wearing his medal.
All the Outer Sect disciples had gathered at the Main Peak square to support Meng Heze in the final round of the martial trials.
The entire Outer Sect was empty and silent.
Outside Song Courtyard, a path of flowers lay strewn with fallen petals in the late spring, butterflies fluttering along the way.
Yet he did not take this path. With a light flutter of his sleeves, an inexplicable breeze lifted him, carrying him effortlessly into the clouds.
Qin Xian stood atop the clouds, waiting quietly.
Winds rose and clouds swirled, under the brilliant sunlight.
A black-robed elder approached from the east, and a white-robed elder from the west.
Above Song Courtyard, Chess Devil and Calligrapher Sage saw each other, their expressions darkening. When they noticed Qin Xian, their faces shifted.
"Why are you here?" Chess Devil asked.
Qin Xian smiled. "I am here for the same reason as you."
"Impossible!" Calligrapher Sage said coldly. "Don't delude yourself!"
Chess Devil thought, One sentimental fool is trouble enough, and now another? How many things has this Song Qianji actually studied?!
Calligrapher Sage thought, If I had known Qin Xian would try to intercept him, why would I have wasted time with that stubborn old ghost at the Star-Picking Platform?
Qin Xian laughed. "It's been a long time. I've maintained the appearance of my prime, while you two have aged considerably. The Dao of Heaven is merciless, much like the unpredictability of finding a disciple. Truly regrettable."
Calligrapher Sage said to Chess Devil, "I've heard that only unmarried young girls care about whether their faces are beautiful, fearing their husbands might grow tired of them."
Chess Devil laughed heartily. "Ha! Flaunting a fake immortal's face while being an ancient monster—is there anything more absurd in this world?"The two of them had been at daggers drawn moments ago, wishing each other dead.
Yet upon meeting again, they unexpectedly united against a common foe.
The three of them loathed the sight of each other, but unable to resort to violence, they could only trade vicious insults like market hags.
Qin Xian, fighting alone against two, found himself at a disadvantage. Yet he showed no anger, instead earnestly persuading:
"He has already accepted my qin. You two have no chance left. Go back."
The two were stunned.
The Calligrapher Sage gritted his teeth, enunciating each word: "I refuse to believe it."
Qin Xian pointed to the flower on his lapel: "This serves as proof. Planted and nurtured day and night by Song Qianji himself, I accepted this humble apprenticeship gift upon seeing his sincerity. I had no wish to elaborate, but I cannot bear to watch you two, at your age, come here only to humiliate yourselves."
Knowing that excess spoils the effect, he delivered his words lightly for maximum authenticity, then smiled faintly and drifted away on a cloud.
Leaving behind only the silhouette of his billowing dark robes and flowing ink-black hair.
The remaining two watched, their expressions shifting from fury to bleak defeat, remaining silent for a long while.
They stood in line upon the clouds, holding their numbered tokens for apprenticeship.
The swift-flowing clouds urged a decision.
"I still don't believe it!" the Chess Devil finally exclaimed.
...
The moment the treasure ship fell into his hands, Song Qianji sensed something amiss.
As he channeled Spirit Qi into it, the treasure ship suddenly transformed—the cabin rose upward, becoming the body of a qin, while the white railings on both sides converged toward the center, forming strings.
Its true form revealed its extraordinary nature: gleaming with golden light, its spiritual pressure intensified dramatically!
This was actually a dual-purpose Magical Artifact, capable of both soaring through the skies and playing melodies on the qin.
Wasn't this utterly redundant?
What use did I have for a famous qin?
Suddenly, he realized the truth.
Qin Xian had deceived him!
He had never abandoned his absurd notion of having the "Sword God's disciple play the qin"!
His earlier act was all a pretense!
In my previous life, even as a Rogue Cultivator who rose to the Transformation Stage, I maintained my dignity and stopped deceiving others.
How could you, with your immortal demeanor, stoop to such underhanded tricks?
Song Qianji took a deep breath.
Xian Jianchen's reputation might intimidate the Peak Lords of the Huawei Sect, but it held little sway among peers of equal stature.
At this moment, he missed True Person Xuyun intensely—performing alongside him had been so effortless.
He placed the "treasure ship" on the stone table.
Chen Hongzhu was too slow; a whole night had passed, and there was still no news.
It was just a mortal county, not a Spirit Stone mine.
If others couldn't be relied upon, he would depend on himself to descend the mountain and farm the land.
He pushed the door open and headed straight for the Cosmos Palace on the Main Peak.
True Person Xuyun, in this world of cunning and duplicitous powerhouses, you are the only one I can trust!
Only you are reliable!
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