Song Qianji chuckled inwardly. Senior Xian, thank you. You truly live up to being the man who could mentor a savior.
Now that you've vented your frustrations and spoken your minds, it's time for everyone to return to their own homes.
Chess Devil still refused: "If you only accept Qin Xian's Seven Wonders Zither but not my formation texts, wouldn't that make my treasures seem inferior to his?"
Calligrapher Sage added: "It's fine if you don't want the formation texts, but Painted Spring Mountain is a genuine mountain peak."
"I'm busy in the fields all day. If they stay with me, these treasures would only gather dust," Song Qianji looked at the treasure box and chess manual. "Treasures have spirits. They deserve better homes."
Clear sunlight filtered through the wisteria trellis, illuminating the gentle smile in his eyes.
He thought, years later when you meet Wei Zhenyu, you'll regret giving these to me.
Seeing how his bright eyes held tenderness even for inanimate objects, as if filled with deep affection, Calligrapher Sage felt he resembled his younger self even more.
In all the world, there probably wasn't a more suitable successor than Song Qianji. Xian Jianchen, you've hit the jackpot - not even reincarnating as pigs or dogs for lifetimes could repay this fortune.
"What about all the flowers and plants in this courtyard when you descend the mountain?" Calligrapher Sage asked.
"Naturally, I'll take them all with me," Song Qianji replied without hesitation. "I can't bear to part with them."
"How will you carry them? In storage bags?" Calligrapher Sage guided patiently. "Storage bags lack spirit qi. Plants removed from soil lose their vitality. But if stored in treasure boxes, when you release them at your territory, they'll remain fresh and vibrant..."
Song Qianji was tempted.
Not to be outdone, Chess Devil said: "The mortal realm lacks sufficient spirit qi, harvests depend on heaven's will. If you learn some formation arts, you can maintain constant temperature in your vegetable plots, enabling off-season cultivation..."
He had never imagined he'd be seriously discussing farming with someone.
This was completely outside his expertise, and he worried he couldn't persuade Song Qianji.
Song Qianji pondered: "That makes sense."
He was still exploring agriculture himself. Planting was a profound field of study - success on the mountain didn't guarantee similar results in the mortal realm.
"I'll temporarily safeguard these treasures. When you find suitable successors, you can reclaim them anytime," Song Qianji said. "I'll also give you both something."
Only two potato flowers remained in the field, which he gently picked.
The potato flowers from Song Courtyard had been given to confused youths like Meng Heze, timid maidens like He Qingqing, and peerless experts like Qin Xian, Chess Devil, and Calligrapher Sage.
A single flower carried countless sentiments.
"I prefer white flowers," said Calligrapher Sage.
He received the light blue one, while the white flower went to Chess Devil.
"Let's swap," Chess Devil said.
If Song Qianji had chosen either of them, the other would never have conceded, inevitably employing every means to continue competing.
But since Song Qianji chose neither, looking at each other now, they saw a hint of shared regret and relief in their mutual disappointment.
Who in life achieves perfection?
Like unfinished poems on desks, like interrupted melodies - imperfections make things genuine.
Calligrapher Sage pinned the light blue potato flower on Chess Devil's lapel: "Year-Entering-Spirit, don't die too soon. Living a few more years would be good."
In chess, there are nine ranks, the highest called "Entering Spirit." Chess Devil's surname was Year, and he was once the Cultivation World's youngest, most talented chess player to reach the Entering Spirit realm, hence this elegant title. He used this name to challenge everywhere, defeating many senior Great Adepts and solving numerous unsolvable endgames.
Later, when he himself became a senior, naturally no one called him that anymore.The Chess Devil tucked a white potato blossom into his hairpin: "Passionate One, you should also delay your death a while longer."
"Passionate One" was the nickname of the Calligrapher Sage in his youth. Under this name, he had pursued many beauties and written numerous misleading miscellaneous books, such as the "Handbook for Overseas Cultivators Landing Ashore to Avoid Scams."
Now it had become secret anecdotes and unofficial histories. To maintain his authoritative image, the academy forbade anyone from mentioning it.
With the matter of the inheritance settled, a heavy weight lifted from their hearts. They both knew they no longer needed to force themselves to endure, yet they were still willing to encourage each other.
The two exchanged a smile.
Suddenly, they were transported back to their youth, faintly recalling how the other had looked with flowers tucked in their hair.
Song Qianji stood by the vermilion gate, watching the two ride the wind into the clouds, heading in opposite directions.
...
"Senior Brother Song! You're watching the clouds!"
An unknown amount of time passed before a familiar voice interrupted Song Qianji's wandering thoughts.
The blue clouds stretched across the sky, and the sun's shadow shifted westward.
Song Qianji withdrew his gaze to find himself surrounded by Outer Sect disciples led by Meng Heze.
For the arena's effect, Meng Heze had changed into a deep red robe today.
The young man tied his hair in a high ponytail, his eyes sparkling like stars, his expression radiant. With each breath, he carried a faint scent of blood and medicine.
"You've finished fighting?" Song Qianji asked.
Meng Heze nodded proudly, coughed lightly, and signaled to those on either side.
Immediately, an Outer Sect disciple proclaimed loudly: "The most popular champion in the history of the exhibition matches—"
Another chimed in: "Support votes far exceeded the second place by a thousand—"
Zhou Xiaoyun summarized: "All the martial examination prizes have been claimed, with magical artifacts, elixirs, and spirit stones all included. The eight great immortal sects and six major families are vying to invite the champion to join their Inner Sects."
Thunderous cheers and applause erupted: "Senior Brother Meng is invincible!"
Meng Heze raised both hands, pressing them downward: "Be humble, be humble."
The cheers subsided in unison, and Meng Heze looked expectantly at Song Qianji.
Seeing him deliberately showing off, his tail practically raised to the sky, Song Qianji found it amusing—Wait until you become a dignified powerhouse in the future and recall today. You’ll probably be so embarrassed you’ll want to silence everyone who witnessed it.
Meng Heze continued to stare straight at him.
It took Song Qianji a moment to realize—this was a request for praise!
"Well done," he said, genuinely unsure how others praised their disciples, barely managing to string together a few words. "Keep up the good work and achieve even greater results."
"Good! I'll compete again next time!" Meng Heze clenched his fist with determination.
"No, no, that won't be necessary!" Song Qianji quickly dismissed the idea. "The next Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals is ten years from now. By then, you’ll have reached Core Condensation. How could you still steal the spotlight from the younger generation? It would be too embarrassing."
Meng Heze was momentarily speechless with emotion.
So, in Senior Brother Song’s mind, I could advance from Foundation Establishment to Core Condensation in just ten years—faster than even Ziye Wenshu back in the day.
Something I wouldn’t even dare to imagine, yet Senior Brother believes in me so deeply and holds such high expectations.
I must not let Senior Brother down.
Instantly, he dropped his boastful demeanor, like a peacock folding its colorful display, and bowed solemnly:
"Senior Brother Song’s guidance is correct. I will respectfully follow your teachings!"
The Outer Sect disciples echoed in unison: "We respectfully follow Senior Brother Song’s teachings!"
Their momentum was overwhelming. The bean leaves at the entrance of Song Courtyard trembled, and Song Qianji was startled as well.
Having been drunk last night, he hadn’t noticed it clearly. Only now did he distinctly feel that these disciples, after collaborating in the exhibition matches, had become more united and powerful than before.
The exhibition match was not just Meng Heze’s victory alone."What kind of noodles would you like today, Senior Brother?" Meng Heze asked.
Song Qianji shook his head: "No noodles today. I need to pack. Before midnight tonight, Huawel Sect will grant me a county."
"Senior Brother is leaving the mountain?!" Meng Heze stood stunned.
He had anticipated this, so he wasn't shocked—just surprised it came so soon.
Suddenly, he broke into a smile and turned to shout loudly: "Leaving the mountain is great! Everyone, go pack your things!"
Cheers erupted once more as the crowd clamored about descending together.
Song Qianji was baffled. Do you all just obey whatever he says?
Song Qianji lowered his voice sharply: "Why are you leaving? You won first place in the martial competition—county immortal sects and noble families are scrambling to recruit you into their Inner Sects. Just pick one you like, and your path to immortality will be smooth. Isn't that better?"
Meng Heze froze.
The color drained from his rosy cheeks. His eyes blinked rapidly, welling up with tears in an instant, his expression panicked:
"Senior Brother, are you... abandoning me?"
Song Qianji thought helplessly, I'm not your biological father.
Even if I were, sons grow up and leave the nest—you should go out and establish yourself.
"Everyone has their own destiny. You're destined for a boundless future..."
Before he could finish, Meng Heze's tears fell.
Song Qianji saw this and thought, This won't do. He immediately put on a stern face: "Crying again?! A full-grown man bleeds but never sheds tears—you didn't even cry when you got hurt in the exhibition match, and now you're putting on an act with me..."
Meng Heze stared at him, face deathly pale, eyes red-rimmed.
All the Outer Sect disciples stared at him as if he were a scoundrel abandoning his family.
Song Qianji couldn't continue. Mindful of the public scrutiny, he had no choice but to soften his tone and murmur, "Alright, alright, I apologize. Stop crying now. I was wrong—I went too far."
Song Qianji felt utterly exasperated.
In his past life, no one dared cry in front of him. Why is everyone coming to him with tears in this lifetime?
But Meng Heze thought, How can Senior Brother Song go to the mortal world alone?
When he's hungry, no one will cook noodles for him; when he's thirsty, no one will serve tea. After working in the fields, no one will hand him a cloth to wipe his hands.
What if he encounters powerful enemies, gets bullied, and has no one to protect him...
The more he thought about it, the more distraught he became.
"If you're leaving, we leave together! Take me with you, Senior Brother!" Meng Heze clutched Song Qianji's sleeve.
"Take me too, Senior Brother Song!" Zhou Xiaoyun shouted.
The Outer Sect disciples clamored in unison: "We'll go with Senior Brother! We swear to follow you to the death!"
I'm going to farm, not fight—what do I need so many people "swearing to die" for?
Song Qianji said gravely, "The place I'm going to isn't some spiritual mountain or scenic waters. It's barren, overrun with vicious beasts, and conditions are harsh. It will delay your cultivation—if you really go, it'll be like cutting off your own path to immortality!"
He intended to scare them into backing down, but the disciples only grew more resolute.
How could they let Senior Brother Song be exiled by Huawel Sect to such barren, treacherous lands all alone?
"We're not afraid!"
Song Qianji: "Life in the mortal world is hard..."
"What's there to fear about the mortal world? We came from there originally," Zhou Xiaoyun said. "I used to think I was insignificant—born a mortal, with low cultivation, like an ant in a great sect. But since Senior Brother Song started answering our questions and teaching us, we haven't had to endure the sect's bullying or fight desperately for odd jobs. Didn't we succeed in the exhibition match? No matter how humble our strength, when we gather and unite as one, we can accomplish many things!"Since it's a barren, harsh land," Meng Heze had a sudden inspiration, "then we can help Senior Brother reclaim the wasteland!" Reclaiming land needs manpower!""Exactly!" the crowd chimed in, listing a hundred more reasons to descend the mountain together, their hopeful gazes fixed on Song Qianji.
Song Qianji remained silent.
If so many people stayed in the Huawel Sect, they likely wouldn't be treated well.
Following Meng Heze to another sect wouldn't be easy either.
If they scattered to seek their own paths... having just endured hardships together, their bond now ran deeper than family ties, and separation was the last thing any of them wanted.
For now, he would take them along. If they later regretted it, he could help them find new paths, impart suitable cultivation methods based on their individual aptitudes—this way, he wouldn't be holding them back.
Whoever stayed by his side, he always felt they would eventually come to regret it.
Song Qianji waved his hand: "Then pack your things—we descend the mountain together!"
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