Liu the Cripple wasn't always crippled, and naturally wasn't called "the Cripple" in his youth.
He was once a renowned carpenter across ten villages, known for his exquisite craftsmanship and frequent ingenious ideas.
In Thousand-Ditch Prefecture where iron tools were strictly controlled, skilled carpenters who mastered mortise-and-tenon joints—building houses and furniture without a single iron nail—were always respected by the villagers.
As the land grew harder year by year, plow oxen dwindled, and tilling became increasingly laborious, Liu the Carpenter turned his attention to farming tools.
After three years of painstaking research, he invented a new plow and went to the God Temple in high spirits to present his treasure, only to have his legs broken and be thrown out without even catching a glimpse of the Immortal Official.
That year, his wife was pregnant, and their son Xiao Hu was born, adding another mouth to feed in the household.
From then on, his circumstances plummeted.
Liu the Carpenter never missed a "Tribute Ceremony" to present his inventions, and without exception, he was beaten each time.
Fellow villagers and friends initially pleaded with him to give up, then stopped persuading and only sighed, until now they merely watched coldly.
"Ha, that madman really thinks presenting a plow will bring him wealth and prestige," the local officials often said.
"I'm not doing it for wealth and prestige," Liu the Carpenter would explain at first.
"If not for that, then what? Are you possessed by demons?"
I want the Immortal Official to approve the new plow for the fields. I want everyone to use this labor-saving plow.
I want to prove I'm not mad.
Liu the Carpenter thought to himself.
Spring passed and autumn came, year after year. The incense at the God Temple never ceased, and he had endured eighteen beatings, his body covered with scars.
If it doesn't work this year, then forget it. Just pretend I never invented the new plow, as if it were all a nightmare.
But the new Immortal Official might be different. He told people to "stand up" and not offer him tributes.
No Immortal Official had ever said such things. If he would just take a look at my plow...
Liu the Carpenter mustered his courage, took a deep breath, and shouted, "I wish to see the Immortal Official! I have a treasure to present!"
"Go ahead, make a scene," the temple guard sneered, but unlike before, he didn't physically stop him. Instead, he raised his voice, "If you dare, charge right up!"
"There's probably a trap, Liu the Cripple, you mustn't go," a fellow villager nearby tugged at his clothes.
Liu the Carpenter limped out of the crowd and was about to step onto the jade stairs.
Before his foot landed, sudden exclamations erupted at the temple entrance.
The God Temple was always solemn and imposing—when had it ever been so noisy?
The crowd in the square looked up and watched in astonishment as a figure rushed down the high steps, like a white cloud drifting down from the sky.
Behind the cloud followed a group of officials and wealthy gentry.
These influential figures, who could make Thousand-Ditch Prefecture tremble with a single stomp, were now sweating profusely, holding up their robes as they desperately chased, shouting, "Song Xian Guan, please wait!"
The Minister of Military Affairs, his large belly heaving, ran too frantically, missed a step, and tumbled down the stairs. Guards hurried to help him up.
Amid the chaos, the new Immortal Official, his robes fluttering in the wind, drifted right before them.
Liu the Carpenter stood dumbfounded—he had never seen an Immortal Official so young, so ethereal like an immortal.
"How dare you!" the temple guard barked. "How dare you look directly at the Immortal Official!"
Liu the Carpenter snapped back to reality and hurriedly knelt to kowtow, but a pair of hands lifted him up.
"Sir," he heard a gentle voice.
Sir? Who is the Immortal Official calling "sir"?
Liu the Carpenter was deeply terrified, not daring to raise his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Immortal Official's spotless sleeve, now faintly marked with his own dirty handprint.
It's over. I haven't even presented the plow, and I'm already doomed to die.
Song Qianji asked, "Sir, have you come to present an improved farming tool?"
The wealthy gentry, jostling each other, finally came to a stop behind Song Qianji.Zhao Ren descended on a cloud, landing from the sky: "Junior Brother Song, what are you doing!"
Song Qianji ignored him, asking only the stunned Liu the Carpenter: "Where are the farming tools? Did you bring them?"
The crowd stared in stunned silence.
Zhao Ren felt deeply humiliated, barely containing his anger as he watched to see what trick Song Qianji had up his sleeve.
"Y-yes, I brought them!" Liu the Carpenter suddenly looked up, his nose stinging as his eyes grew misty. "Immortal Official, please follow me!"
The commoners stepped aside in astonishment. The entire square's population followed Song Qianji as he moved forward.
Beneath the green pine outside the square, Song Qianji saw a new-style plow different from traditional cultivation plows and knew he had come to the right place.
The clumsy, rigid straight shaft had disappeared, replaced by an elegantly curved shaft. The plow head's disc could actually rotate. The entire plow frame appeared lighter and more flexible.
This is a true treasure, he thought.
"This humble one's self-invented Curved Shaft Plow turns more easily and saves effort." Liu the Carpenter picked up the diamond-shaped plowshare, excitedly explaining, "If we replace this bottom part with iron, it will dig deeper and faster, making work twice as easy as now!"
Song Qianji reached out, carefully running his fingers over the rough wood as if caressing flawless jade.
With serious concentration, he mentally disassembled and reconstructed every part of the plow before finally asking:
"May I try it?"
"Ah?" Liu the Carpenter started. "O-of course!"
Even now, he still felt as if he were drunk in a dream.
How could such an Immortal Official exist? Was he truly an Immortal Official?
The wealthy gentry, seeing the situation turning unfavorable, dared not question Song Qianji directly, anxiously signaling the former Immortal Official with meaningful glances.
But Zhao Ren thought, Song Qianji was deep and cunning—a ruthless character who had wrested a prefecture from the sect. His every move must have profound meaning.
They watched as Song Qianji examined the harness, first putting it on himself, then walking forward without assistance.
The officials turned pale, scrambling to take his place.
In good spirits, Song Qianji generously shared this joy, letting each person take turns wearing the harness and walking a few steps.
Beneath the green pine, the soil turned over inch by inch. A layer of fine green pine needles buried themselves in the earth, only to be turned up again.
The sunlight was pure and bright, the distinctive fragrance of soil mixing with the scent of green grass carried on the wind.
In Thousand-Ditch Prefecture, the officials experienced for the first time "bowing their heads like willing oxen" and "sweat dripping into the soil below"—a truly remarkable sight.
The villagers were utterly dumbfounded, gazing longingly at the Curved Shaft Plow.
What kind of treasure had Liu the Cripple actually created? Did it contain immortal magic?
No, how could Liu the Cripple know immortal magic? It was the new Immortal Official working spells, making all these great lords compete to become plow oxen.
This Curved Shaft Plow was truly marvelous. Such a labor-saving device—if only they could use it on their own fields, how wonderful that would be.
But of course, this was wishful thinking. All farming tools could only be rented, and the best equipment was reserved for the estates of major landowners.
Song Qianji finally nodded in satisfaction, sincerely praising: "The Curved Shaft Plow is truly ingenious. You possess remarkable talent, sir."
If he had tried to make it himself, working behind closed doors, he could never have created this.
This man was undoubtedly an expert in farming, a master of agriculture.
"Immortal Official, this humble one doesn't deserve to be called 'sir' by you!" Liu the Carpenter fumbled nervously.
Song Qianji said: "The accomplished deserve to be teachers."
Zhao Ren inwardly roared, "The accomplished deserve to be teachers," my foot!
You refuse to acknowledge the two Sages—Chess Devil and Calligrapher Sage—as teachers, yet you call a mortal "sir"?
Song Qianji was indeed trying to win over the people, cultivating a new group of trusted followers.Unfortunately, he didn't know that the previous Immortal Officials of Thousand-Ditch Prefecture had also tried giving these troublesome commoners some benefits in exchange for greater luck enhancement. And what was the result?
Every single one of them returned in defeat, leaving their posts while cursing and grumbling.
All possible paths had been exhausted. The mortals no longer believed in the God Temple or Immortal Officials from the bottom of their hearts—what else could you do? Zhao Ren sneered coldly.
He saw Song Qianji ask the lame mortal several more questions about "soil quality, irrigation, fertilizers"—all things he couldn't understand—before inquiring about the man's name and residence.
Then Song Qianji repeatedly nodded and actually appointed that man as Minister of Agriculture.
The former Minister of Agriculture had just narrowly escaped death and was still shaken, not daring to object.
Liu the Carpenter, suddenly elevated to high position, had to be supported by his fellow villagers to stand up again, transitioning from pleasant surprise to fear and trepidation:
"This humble one is barely literate and truly dares not take on such great responsibility."
Song Qianji thought for a moment: "Please serve as acting minister for now. The Curved Shaft Plow needs to be promoted throughout the entire prefecture, with at least one per household. How can we manage these matters without you? One year from now, we'll hold an agricultural competition. The annual champion will serve as Thousand-Ditch Prefecture's Minister of Agriculture for that year!"
This time, not just Zhao Ren, but everyone looked bewildered.
Agricultural competition? What was that?
...
Inside the God Temple, Meng Heze used his sword hilt to lift the bright yellow curtains, revealing the golden statues hidden behind the gauze drapes.
The statues were cast in life-size proportions. Though not vivid, they possessed a solemn and dignified presence.
Over ten golden statues stood encircling the hall, making the entire main hall glitter with golden light.
The Outer sect disciples, who had rarely seen the Sect Leader or Peak Lords in person, examined them curiously. But those with lower cultivation levels felt their minds tremble and eyes sting slightly when directly gazing upon the statues' faces.
Meng Heze swept his sword energy forward. The incense smoke offerings before the statues flickered and instantly extinguished.
He led everyone to stand at the temple entrance, overlooking the square.
"Aren't we going with Senior Brother Song?" Zhou Xiaoyun asked.
Meng Heze said: "It's rare for senior brother to encounter farming tools that catch his interest. He'll definitely test them. We'll go after he's had his fill."
"Just a few major landowners could offer so many good things—they're wealthier than being Outer sect disciples," someone whispered.
Meng Heze smiled: "The Thousand Canals gentry have suffered significant losses this time. We'll deal with them gradually later."
Ji Chen, seeing his smile, asked puzzled: "Did Senior Brother Song intentionally pressure them to make offerings? There was originally no enmity between us, so why do this?"
Ji Chen was talkative and naturally familiar with people, having become quite acquainted with Meng Heze during their journey.
Meng Heze sneered: "These people appear respectful on the surface, but they actually take cues from Zhao Ren. If we don't completely subdue them, they'll report our every move here to that Zhao fellow."
Ji Xing imitated Zhao Ren's tone: "Killing the goose that lays golden eggs is unwise. Keeping them around can still squeeze out many things."
...
"Junior Brother Song, this 'agricultural competition' isn't urgent," Zhao Ren said, finding those four words extremely peculiar. "We still need to complete the final procedure before I can officially step down."
"What else is there?" Song Qianji slightly frowned.
He was planning to ask Liu the Carpenter to accompany him to travel throughout the Thousand Canals territory immediately, formulating land reclamation and farming plans for himself.
Zhao Ren signaled to the Master of Ceremonies with his eyes.
The Master of Ceremonies wiped his cold sweat: "We request the new Immortal Official to write an inscription in his own hand."
Attendants behind him presented brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.Zhao Ren pointed and laughed, "Look at the plaque on the archway in the God Temple square—it's the face of our entire prefecture. The characters 'Treasures of Nature' were written by me, while the previous Immortal Official inscribed 'Gathering of Talents'. Both are for auspiciousness and expressing aspirations."
Zhao Ren thought to himself: This would be Song Qianji's first inscription since issuing the Hero Summons. If he could secure an early rubbing, wouldn't Talismasters across the Cultivation World scramble for it?
Cultivators would buy it to display in their studies or reception halls, showcasing it to guests—what prestige!
"Very well." Song Qianji did not refuse. He lifted the brush, hovering his wrist.
The current characters on the plaque were truly hideous, unworthy of this grand gathering place.
Zhao Ren held his breath as Song Qianji swept the brush grandly, ink splattering, completing four characters in one fluid motion.
Iron strokes and silver hooks carried a momentum as weighty as the earth, surging like a roaring river.
Zhao Ren read them aloud, one by one: "YIELD—PER—MU—A THOUSAND JIN."
Yield per mu a thousand jin?!
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