The Milky Way stretched afar, a crescent moon rose and hung over the upturned eaves, right before Meng Heze and Ji Chen’s eyes.
The silver glow traced the fine down on Meng Heze’s cheeks. Only at times like this did he resemble a teenager in his teens.
The summer night was tranquil, and sharing the moonlight was perfect for heartfelt conversations.
Ji Chen could sense the restlessness and unease in the person beside him, so he initiated the conversation:
"How long have you known Brother Song? You’re like real brothers."
Meng Heze pondered before replying:
"It’s been two years now. But I feel like I truly got to know him this spring. I used to be so foolish, misunderstanding him in many ways. Yet he bore no grudge, leaped off a cliff, and risked his life to save me…"
The young man hugged his sword, leaning against a vermilion pillar as he gazed at the moon. "After meeting him, my life completely changed. Only then did I realize how unbearable my old life was."
"I don’t want to go back to my old life either," Ji Chen said with a laugh. "I always told myself, 'Contentment brings happiness; I already have enough.' But deep down, how could I ever be satisfied? Optimism is just a facade for others. A person can’t live in a place with no future, no matter how much money they have."
No matter how much… what?
Meng Heze was taken aback and whispered, "Don’t say things like that to outsiders. Especially not to people like that Liu guy. Understand?"
Ji Chen blinked, his eyes shimmering like moonlit ripples on a lake: "Are you afraid I’ll be laughed at?"
Sharing heartfelt thoughts under the moonlight really worked—Brother Meng now considered him one of his own!
He had gained another brother in this world. Even though he had cut ties with his family and left, who said true brothers had to share blood?
Unaware of Ji Chen’s thoughts, Meng Heze rolled his eyes: "I’m afraid you’ll get beaten to death."
Ji Chen slung an arm over his shoulder: "You’re the champion of the martial exam. If someone tries to beat me up, will you help me?"
"Who would dare lay a hand on you? Of course, I’d…" Meng Heze suddenly stopped, shook off Ji Chen’s hand, and turned to the other side of the pillar, leaving his back to him. "You’re loaded, with so many fine Magical Artifacts. What use would you have for me?"
Ji Chen circled around to face him again: "Brother Meng, let’s chat a bit more."
Meng Heze scoffed lightly: "No more chatting. I’m just a grassroots nobody from the Outer Sect. What common topics could I possibly have with a wealthy young master from a prominent cultivation clan like you?"
Ji Chen hit a wall but chuckled nonetheless.
He had once been labeled "foolish, rich, and overly talkative"—he wasn’t about to let a chance to chat slip away easily.
"Brother Meng, what kind of girl do you like? What do you think of my sister? Sure, she’s usually wild and doesn’t act like a girl, loves causing trouble and being unreasonable, and has a hidden violent streak—but she’s a good girl!
"In my heart, she’s ten times, no, a hundred times more adorable than Fairy Miaoyan. Why not spend some time with her and see?"
Meng Heze leaned against the pillar, sidestepping with a swift turn of his foot. Ji Chen chased after him, circling the pillar.
The two of them performed a "Hong Fu Two-Act Play" around the pillar.
Creak.
The tightly shut hall door suddenly swung open.
Both of them straightened their expressions and turned their heads simultaneously.
It was Liu Hongshan who had pushed the door open. He held Song Qianji’s hand, slightly bowing as if facing a lifesaver or a reincarnated father:
"From now on, let’s visit each other often! Thousand Canals and Hong Fu are one family. Among family, we speak no divisive words."
Meng Heze and Ji Chen exchanged a knowing glance, seeing their own bewildered reflections in each other’s eyes.
Since when were they one family? Who said we’re family with you?
Song Qianji smiled reservedly: "Easy to say, easy to say."Liu Hongshan stammered hesitantly, "Then the method to resolve this calamity..."
"I shall begin the calculations tonight," Song Qianji replied.
"Brother, have you ever opened the Heavenly Eye for others or used this art of observing qi?"
Song Qianji shook his head: "No."
Custom-made exclusively for you, specially tailored to deceive you alone—aren't you moved?
Liu Hongshan felt greatly relieved: "To be frank, after reaching the Nascent Soul stage, I still wish to advance further. Could you reserve the remaining opportunities to open the Heavenly Eye for me?"
Song Qianji thought, You're thinking quite far ahead.
But on the surface, he feigned difficulty: "Repeatedly performing this art, I fear it won't be easy to explain to the Chess Devil, his venerable self."
"Understood, how could a small river be enough? The bond between you and me, Brother Song, surely deserves a grand canal! In the future, we'll sail on boats and engage in trade between the two prefectures. Hongfu produces silk cloth—take a batch back to Thousand Canals this time."
Song Qianji: "Ordinary cloth is useless to me."
Liu Hongshan misunderstood: "Brother, you underestimate me too much! How could I give you common goods? Relay my decree: all wealthy clans and local gentry, open your treasuries and present your collections!"
"No need for such courtesy," Song Qianji said. "I should take my leave."
Liu Hongshan insisted: "It's already late, no need to rush! Attendants, prepare the feast!"
...
At the border of the two prefectures, once desolate and uninhabited, now echoed with the rumble of carriages and horses, canopies gathering like clouds, as if reviving the bustling market of old.
But these people wore luxurious robes and carried an arrogant demeanor, worlds apart from ordinary farmers and merchants.
Beyond the vast dust storms, the towering walls of Hongfu Prefecture stood unyielding, silently hinting at the power of the Immortal Official behind them.
Someone grew impatient: "Why hasn't he returned yet?"
Another cheered: "Immortal Official Liu is quasi-Nascent Soul, kind-faced but ruthless—he wouldn't let him off easily."
Someone sneered: "Making us dig river ditches, labor alongside those country bumpkins, eat in the same places—how dare he even think of it?The outline of the Seven Ultimate Treasure Ship emerged behind the dust, and suddenly, all voices fell silent.
Their expressions shifted slightly. They dismounted one after another, maintaining surface courtesy but standing straight-backed, as if supported by some invisible force.
Today, they had gathered here under the guise of "welcoming the Immortal Official," but in truth, it was a "show of force."
"A message from Hongfu has arrived!" A messenger ran through the dust. "A message from Hongfu has arrived!"
Their spirits lifted. Elder Li took the letter, unhurriedly opening it.
After days of anxiety and sleepless nights, everyone desperately needed good news and resented his calm demeanor:
"How did it go? How was Song Qianji taught a lesson?"
Halfway through reading, Elder Li's steady expression suddenly changed, his lips trembling as he turned and rushed toward his carriage: "Go, quickly! Leave this place, leave Thousand Canals!"
His clan's younger generation, confused and unwilling to mount, still asked for reasons.
"Who is the largest landowner in Hongfu?"
"Of course, the Bai family!"
Elder Li threw the letter: "The pigs and sheep raised in the Bai family's manor were dragged out one by one this morning! Half of their six great treasuries are emptied! Immortal Official Liu personally cast immortal arts, working day and night—Hongfu's dams and sluice gates are nearly completed!"
The crowd was stunned, struck by a terror that shattered their souls and cracked their livers and gallbladders.
Since Song Qianji was unharmed, misfortune had fallen upon them.
Song Qianji oppressing local tyrants was one thing, but how could an Immortal Official of Thousand Canals extend his reach to Hongfu Prefecture?
If even the quasi-Nascent Soul Immortal Official Liu couldn't handle him, was he even human? Did he still follow reason?The treasure ship landed with a thunderous crash, scattering the crowd in panic.
Song Qianji spotted familiar faces in the distance and intended to disembark to greet them, inquiring about the construction progress in Thousand Canals.
Yet chaos erupted as those people scrambled onto horses, abandoning their carts in their frantic escape, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
"Why are they running? They even lost their shoes," Song Qianji wondered aloud.
Later, he heard that the esteemed figures of Thousand-Ditch Prefecture had departed, paying tribute to the Rogue Cultivators operating black-market boats in the Great Desolate Swamp, buying standing-room tickets for an overnight journey.
Some would rather brave a new world where survival is slim than live ordinary lives digging canals and farming crops, embracing stable, mundane days.
For them, diligent labor with their own hands was more unbearable than death.
...
Across the wilderness, fervent activity buzzed under a haze of dust.
Chants pierced the sky as over a thousand River workers, stripped to the waist, bent over in labor along the canal banks. The rhythmic clanging of hammers and shovels reverberated endlessly through the open fields.
Though the scene appeared chaotic, it proceeded with orderly precision under command—no carts overturned soil baskets, no rakes clashed with shovels.
Thousand Canals, once encircled by waterways, had remnants of old riverbeds and dried-up ditches as foundations. Redirecting water to open new channels thus required less actual effort.
Under the scorching sun, robust River workers were coated in dust. Sweat streamed from foreheads and necks, carving winding paths through the grime, reminiscent of the canals in their dreams.
"Will Hongfu Prefecture truly release water for us?"
"With Song Xian Guan here, it'll surely happen once he returns."
A burst of gongs and drums sounded as Xu Kanshan, channeling his spiritual energy, shouted: "Meal time! Meal time!"
Soil-basket carriers set down their loads, pole-bearers dropped their burdens, and iron rods and shovels were abandoned as people swarmed toward the thatched sheds.
The aroma of food wafted on the breeze, tantalizing nostrils and prompting eager swallows.
Long queues formed before seven or eight thatched sheds.
An elder River worker patted his companion: "You've truly landed in good times. Back when we renovated the God Temple, know what we ate?"
"Bean paste, maybe?" a young man guessed.
"Dream on! Who'd cook bean paste for you? It was all black hardtack—sucking on stones."
"Sucking stones?" Young River workers nearby turned, awaiting explanation.
The elder adopted a seasoned expression: "The heat killed appetites. Those black cakes were harder than rocks, grating your throat, impossible to swallow. But without eating, you'd lack strength; without strength, you couldn't work—and then you'd be beaten. A cook had an idea: boil stones in sour-spicy broth. We'd suck the flavor off the stones while gnawing the cakes..."
Someone interrupted from behind: "At least you had stones to suck during the temple repairs! By the time we built the Immortal Official Manor, we didn't even get full portions of hardtack!"
The elder's eyes clouded with nostalgia; the youths sighed collectively.
The line shuffled forward, their reminiscences broken by bowls of stew.
Potatoes, radishes, and lotus flower cabbage simmered in meat broth, with chewy, substantial meatballs. Steamed buns, large and fluffy, exuded a fresh fragrance.
Then an Immortal Official called out: "Get sour plum drink at Shed C! All villagers from Team Three, collect your grain and meat at Shed A after eating—it's your turn for home rest."
Between ravenous bites, everyone glanced up enviously at Team Three.
"Last time I returned, the village chief threw a celebration feast. My wife and kids were so thrilled, they didn't sleep all night."“Working bare-chested in the riverbeds, returning to the village, they were all heroes and brave men.”
Just then, the earth trembled slightly.
Everyone turned their heads. At the far end of their vision, a white line surged forth from the horizon.
The white line reflected the blazing sun’s rays, dazzlingly bright.
People stood frozen, holding their bowls, mouths agape.
Someone murmured, “What is that?”
The scene seemed enchanted. Everyone stared blankly at the distant sky, dazed and stupefied, even forgetting the fragrant meat stew in their hands.
Someone whispered softly, “It’s a white dragon, its scales gleaming and shimmering.”
The tremors gradually ceased. The white dragon, controlled and guided by an unseen force, slowed its unstoppable rush and swam toward them gently and gracefully.
From somewhere, a shout erupted first:
“The water’s here! Our water has arrived—”
“The floodgates of Hongfu have opened!”
Cheers erupted, resounding across heaven and earth.
On the desolate plains, countless strangers embraced one another and wept.
Later legends recorded that during Thousand Canals’ first water diversion, the Divine King arrived astride a silver dragon.
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