How could something like this be hung up for display?
"Excellent, even better than the 'Egg Calligraphy'!" Ji Chen, who had arrived unnoticed, was the first to applaud.
Truly worthy of Brother Song, the genius renowned in both calligraphy and chess—even his aspirations differed from ordinary cultivators.
Meng Heze led the outer sect disciples in applause, creating a thunderous ovation and an enthusiastic atmosphere.
Zhao Ren thought in a dazed manner that not only was Song Qianji insane, but all the cultivators under his command had gone mad as well.
Born into a cultivation family, he had entered the Huawel Sect's Inner Sect in his youth. Piled with resources, he had smoothly advanced all the way to Core Condensation.
The biggest setback in his life was being sent to this godforsaken place as an Immortal Official.
Deep down, he believed the gap between cultivators and mortals was even greater than that between humans and spiritual beasts.
Cultivators absorbed Spirit Qi, abstained from grains, and involving themselves in mortal affairs was purely a waste of time that hindered cultivation.
Cultivators sought ascension and the Great Dao, while mortals were mediocre, only concerned with basic sustenance. A single seclusion for a cultivator might span an entire mortal lifetime.
What was the point of interacting and building relationships with mortals? What difference did it make whether it was ten jin, a hundred jin, or a thousand jin?
Zhao Ren couldn't accept it: "The calligraphy for 'Thousand-Jin Yield Per Mu' may be unrestrained, but it's hardly refined. Could Junior Brother Song replace it with another piece?"
Song Qianji seemed to notice him only then, feigning slight surprise:
"Fellow Daoist Zhao, the ceremony is over, and you're still here? Since you're reluctant to leave, why don't I appoint you as Master of Ceremonies to assist me from now on?"
"Junior Brother, you jest! How could I have time to stay longer?"
"I only send gods away; I don't invite them," Song Qianji said indifferently. "Since you won't stay, it won't be so easy for you to return later."
Zhao Ren was taken aback. He realized that when this young man wasn't smiling, he exuded an imposing aura of authority, as if he were looking down on him.
This made him uncomfortable. In terms of cultivation, seniority, or background, wasn't he superior in every way?
Provoked by this demeanor, he also turned cold and immediately summoned his Lifebound Flying Sword: "Thousand-Ditch Prefecture is yours. I won't return!"
This wretched place had stalled his cultivation for a year. It was far more important for him to return swiftly to the Huawel Sect's Redwater Peak to cultivate, leaving this mess for Song Qianji to handle.
In the future, if this Song fellow made any moves, he would have the three great clans in the prefecture report directly to his family.
The flying sword transformed into a streak of light and rode the wind away.
The wealthy gentry looked up at the sky with reluctance. Compared to the unpredictable new Immortal Official, the previous Zhao family Immortal Officials gave them a greater sense of security.
"Farewell, Fellow Daoist Zhao," Song Qianji said with a smile.
The flying sword shot through the clouds, unimpeded across the open sky.
Zhao Ren closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally free of his burdens, he recalled the rewards Peak Lord Zhao had promised and felt quite pleased.
The air was filled with the scent of freedom. He grinned, thinking of attaching a Wind-Cleaving Talisman to his flying sword to increase its speed.
Suddenly, his smile froze: the Wind-Cleaving Talisman wasn't on him.
Not just the Wind-Cleaving Talisman—all the treasures he had accumulated in Thousand Canals over the years were left behind in the Immortal Official Manor.
The entire prefecture had the densest Spirit Qi only in the Immortal Official Manor. He only occasionally went to the God Temple to receive offerings and obeisance, spending the rest of his time cultivating in the manor without stepping out.
Habits were a terrifying thing.
As an Immortal Official, he had lived in comfort and privilege, with no need to engage in combat. Aside from his Lifebound Sword, he hadn't carried magical artifacts, talismans, or other items on his person for a long time.
He had just publicly exchanged harsh words, declaring he would never return to Thousand Canals. Turning back now would be humiliating.The thought that Song Qianji might get a windfall for nothing made Zhao Ren's face turn ashen with suppressed fury.
He could only console himself with the fact that the treasure vault was buried deep underground, concealed by formations—Song Qianji wouldn’t find a way in anytime soon.
Even if they had numbers, their cultivation levels were generally low. As a Golden Core cultivator familiar with the immortal manor’s layout and formations, who could stop him if he infiltrated under cover of night?
The crimson flying sword circled and hovered among the clouds.
…
After sending Zhao Ren away, Song Qianji turned to face the farming expert and agricultural specialist with utmost friendliness and patience:
“You may move into the Immortal Official Manor today. Once your leg ailment is healed, accompany me across Thousand Canals to promote the Curved Shaft Plow. I will rely heavily on your expertise whenever I am unsure.”
Liu the Carpenter, tears glistening in his eyes, nodded excitedly: “…How have I deserved such honor?”
Turning to look around, he no longer saw cold stares or mockery. His fellow villagers gazed at him eagerly, their faces filled with envy and admiration.
He had once heard the village elder speak of sayings like, “A scholar dies for one who knows his worth,” and “Spare no effort until death,” but he never understood. In this harsh world, who would sacrifice their life for someone unrelated?
Now, supported by the new Immortal Official, he was suddenly filled with soaring ambition, thinking he would gladly devote his all, even to death.
The villagers watched Liu the Carpenter with envy, then covetously eyed the words “a thousand catties per mu.”
If one mu of land could truly yield a thousand catties of grain, wouldn’t that mean one person farming could feed the whole family without hunger?
Was the new Immortal Official going to perform immortal magic? Was he truly this kind-hearted, not just seeking worship and offerings?
Most dared not believe it.
Though protected by formations, the air in Tiancheng remained dry.
The wind carried fine sand that stung the face slightly, carrying a sharp, rugged edge.
As Song Qianji entered the Immortal Official Manor and passed a white jade screen wall, the dust vanished abruptly, replaced by a refreshing, moist air.
At a glance, he saw blue stone bricks, glazed tiles, a winding gallery, and a lotus pond.
Between verdant pines and cypresses, glimpses of multi-storied buildings with upturned eaves peeked through, shimmering faintly gold in the sunlight.
At first, it didn’t seem particularly spacious, but as the former steward led the way and explained, the paths grew deeper and more winding, revealing that the Immortal Official Manor was a city within a city.
“I was worried it wouldn’t be enough space, but it turns out we can’t even fill it,” Meng Heze marveled. “Being an Immortal Official in the mortal world is this comfortable. This is much larger than Xu Yun’s Cosmos Palace.”
Since leaving Huawel Sect, he had taken to calling the sect leader by his Taoist name directly, and no one around found it odd.
Zhou Xiaoyun laughed: “The mountains are high, and the emperor is far away. A real emperor isn’t as comfortable as a local despot.”
The Minister of Rites supported the new Minister of Agriculture, Liu the Carpenter, following closely beside Song Qianji and flattering cautiously: “How would you like the residence renovated? We can conscript laborers today and start construction tomorrow.”
Every Immortal Official wanted to renovate and expand according to their own preferences. Immortal Officials had many requirements—no one wished to live in an old abode left by another, so the manor could only grow larger.
Song Qianji shook his head: “No need for renovations.”
“The tallest and newest building here is the Cloud Tower, supervised by Immortal Official Zhao. Please, this way.”
Song Qianji still shook his head.
He found a remote, abandoned garden, only slightly larger than Song Courtyard: “This will do.”
Over a thousand disciples moved into their new quarters, everything fresh and exciting, full of vigor and motivation.
Yet seeing Senior Brother Song insist on choosing the worst garden, everyone, moved by some unspoken sentiment, began deferring to one another, and no disputes arose over room selections.Song Qianji opened the treasure box containing Painted Spring Mountain, his Divine Sense stirring slightly as he sequentially retrieved potatoes, string beans, cucumber vines, wisteria, and other plants.
Their root systems were completely encased in soil from Song Courtyard, utterly undamaged.
There were also flower stands of varying heights, two stone-filled vats for lotus roots, and various homemade tools like sprinkling cans, watering pots, and sprayers.
Song Qianji picked up a shovel and began turning the soil.
One doesn't use a cannon to kill a mosquito - this small courtyard didn't require something as divine as the Curved Shaft Plow.
Compared to conscripting laborers, he preferred working with his own hands.
In this process, he could feel the vitality within the earth.
If the soil of Huawel Sect was like a youthful, vibrant maiden, then Thousand Canals resembled a gasping old man on his last breath.
Song Qianji suddenly felt pity.
Ji Chen wanted to step forward and help, but Meng Heze looked at him with an "experienced" expression.
Soon Ji Chen realized he couldn't contribute meaningfully and would only disrupt Song Qianji's working rhythm.
Only Meng Heze could barely integrate into this rhythm, making Ji Chen quite envious.
He unconsciously followed behind Song Qianji, quietly observing.
He felt that when Brother Song did these tasks, though serious, he showed no fatigue or tension.
It was still like after submitting the Calligraphy and Painting Examination, strolling along mountain paths with him while chatting and enjoying the scenery.
Ji Chen finally couldn't resist asking: "Brother Song, what can I do?"
Song Qianji laughed: "I'll continue teaching you chess tonight. Want to learn?"
"Tonight?" Ji Chen was startled, thinking Song Qianji must be too busy during the day, "Of course! After your last lesson, I found it quite interesting and have been wanting to consult you further."
Song Qianji looked up at the sky.
The heavens hung low, clouds resembling flocks of geese flying across the scroll of sky.
"Perfect timing to practice with someone tonight," he murmured to himself.
Only Rogue Cultivators with mud-stained legs would carry all their possessions with them.
Cultivators who dwelled long in cave abodes usually traveled light.
"What did Brother Song say?" Ji Chen followed his gaze upward, "Is there something in the sky?"
But he only saw the setting sun sinking westward, layers of clouds gradually tinted with color.
The generally low buildings of Tiancheng made the vast sky appear even more lofty and lonely.
Song Qianji smiled: "I said, plants grow from soil, humans come from earth and water, yet cultivators compete to fly toward the heavens... how strange."
※※※
Huawel Sect.
The sea of clouds remained unchanged, moonlight illuminating countless peaks.
Chen Hongzhu would enter seclusion tomorrow, guarded by her father Xu Yun and several Huawel experts as she attempted Core Condensation.
She no longer wanted to be the most doted-upon daughter or junior, nor did she want to find herself in situations like at Cosmos Palace again.
Though seclusion was crucially important, tonight she neither meditated to calm her spirit at Worry-Free Palace nor relaxed by stargazing at Star-Picking Platform.
She came alone to the Outer Sect.
After Zhao Yuping was dismissed, Xu Yun promoted a trusted subordinate to Chief Steward. The new Chief Steward, seeing her arrival, hurriedly followed behind.
The new batch of Outer Sect disciples hadn't moved in yet, leaving the dormitories empty and quiet at night with only wind sounds and insect chirps.
Spring had passed into summer, the flower-lined path before Song Courtyard had withered, leaving only clusters of lush green leaves.
When Song Qianji left, he departed hastily under cover of night.
Thus, though many chess players, calligraphers, and painters in the Cultivation World admired his reputation, they never got another chance to meet him or see him off properly.
Chen Hongzhu didn't go to bid farewell. Their positions differed too greatly, like standing on opposite sides of a tall mountain. If they met again, they'd likely be enemies rather than friends.
Since that was the case, better not to meet.
She heard that He Qingqing had rushed over, but only managed to exchange a few words.This inexplicably left her heart feeling somewhat empty, as if Song Qianji held no attachment to his time in the Huawel Sect, even though he had lived quite contentedly each day.
None of the people or events he encountered here—whether working odd jobs, practicing swordsmanship, buying a qin, or meeting anyone—seemed to matter to him.
"Young Mistress, please go first."
With a creak, the vermilion gates swung wide open, leaving Chen Hongzhu momentarily stunned.
The once vibrant and colorful Song Courtyard now stood barren and empty, bathed in moonlight so starkly it resembled an ice cave.
Only the freshly turned soil proved that someone had once lived here.
The new deacon cursed inwardly: that Song Qianji truly lived up to his reputation of leaving nothing behind—not even a single bird's feather remained for the sect!
Wait, he did leave one thing behind: a new accusation—"colluding with Song."
The chief steward forced an apologetic smile. "That fellow came from humble mortal origins—tight-fisted and shortsighted, fascinated by every trivial thing. Please don't be angered, Young Mistress."
Chen Hongzhu paid him no mind and stepped into the courtyard, surveying her surroundings.
Finally, she sighed softly. "It's all over now."
Whether with melancholy or relief, she couldn't tell.
Song Qianji had vanished into the mortal world, and the Huawel Sect ought to return to its proper course.
It remained powerful, still the foremost sect of the Western Sky Continent.
Revered by cultivators across the Western Continent and yearned for by countless mortals, it would not be swayed by the influence of a single individual.
Chen Hongzhu stepped over the threshold, and the chief steward closed the vermilion gates behind her.
No one noticed the tiny speck of emerald green budding silently under the moonlight in a corner of the wall.
Two sprouting leaves, smaller than needle points, lay buried in the soil, utterly inconspicuous.
Song Qianji had not left behind a single blade of grass, but he had inadvertently dropped a seed.
After his departure, a midnight rain fell over Huawel, and this unremarkable seed broke through the earth and sprouted.
Tonight, a new batch of outer sect disciples disembarked at the Outer Sect plaza.
Their youthful faces all bore a similar look, filled with dreams of soaring to greatness overnight as they charged into the dazzling Cultivation World, embarking on the competitive path to immortality.
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