The pastries personally made by Wei Ping were not only given to the Thousand Canals Chicken Delivery Team. Mortals such as Liu the Carpenter, the Minister of Agriculture; Tie Sanniu, the Minister of Works; the team leaders of the construction crews; and the village heads of the threshing grounds all received an exquisitely carved food box.
With a tap on the lid, the three layers inside and outside automatically opened like a blooming lotus flower, revealing brightly colored, sweetly fragrant pastries shaped like petals.
Thousand Canals was a backward and rustic place, and few had ever seen something so exquisitely crafted with hidden mechanisms. They couldn’t help but marvel in admiration.
To eat food personally prepared by Wei Ping, the personal steward of Song Xian Guan, not only satisfied their appetites but also brought a special sense of honor.
After finishing his meal, Tie Sanniu squatted by the ditch, enjoying the breeze and lost in thought, as he pulled out a tobacco pipe from his robe.
Wei Ping, adapting to local customs, also lifted the hem of his robe and squatted beside him, even leaning over to light the pipe for him.
Tie Sanniu was so startled he nearly dropped his pipe. "Immortal Master, this is too much!"
"I’m new to Thousand Canals and unfamiliar with local customs. I know nothing about river channel matters either, so I must learn from everyone," Wei Ping said with a smile. "I heard you drew the river channel blueprints? May I take a look?"
Tie Sanniu eagerly agreed.
Wei Ping studied the blueprints and asked questions about water volume control, flood prevention, and water regulation, listening attentively and addressing the other as a brother.
Finally, he asked as if casually, "The layout of these seven river channels was requested by Master Song, wasn’t it?"
"Of course not. This layout is currently the most reasonable. It maximizes the effectiveness of the waterways. Thousand Canals is vast with heavy sand and dust, so we need to address not only irrigation but also water distribution, sediment removal, and ensuring clear water flow. This is the optimal design I selected from all the proposals. Song Xian Guan reviewed it and merely nodded."
Wei Ping was taken aback but maintained his composure as he observed the other’s expression.
He wasn’t lying.
Could it just be a coincidence? Song Qianji had no intention of undertaking massive construction projects to enhance his own luck. He only wanted to dig canals, divert water, irrigate Thousand Canals, and benefit the people.
Wei Ping suddenly laughed heartily, "I originally thought it was for good fortune! Once the channels are completed according to the blueprint and filled with water, when cultivators fly on swords or magical artifacts overhead, Thousand Canals has no tall buildings, and the vast yellow plains stretch as far as the eye can see. All that will be visible are the seven river channels forming the character 'Song.' With the boundless heavens and earth as paper and the surging river water as ink, this would truly highlight Song Xian Guan’s unique status and supreme authority in Thousand Canals."
"Song? Let me see... Hey, it really does look like 'Song'! I hadn’t noticed until you pointed it out, haha! You’ve got a sharp eye, brother!"
Tie Sanniu excitedly called out to Liu the Carpenter, "Old Liu, come quick! There’s a new discovery—Steward Wei noticed it!"
Soon, the river workers also put down their bowls and passed around the blueprint. Exclamations rose from the crowd:
"The more I look, the more it resembles 'Song'!"
"This must be the will of Heaven."
Wei Ping raised an eyebrow slightly.
He had an innate sensitivity to space, shapes, and the structure of characters—otherwise, the Calligrapher Sage would not have taken notice of him, nor would he have deciphered the trick behind the "Profiteer Talisman" in the black-market pawnshop.
Song Qianji, without any intention or effort, had achieved such an outcome. Could it be that he was truly favored by destiny, the chosen one of luck?
The people of Thousand Canals all spoke of it as an "auspicious sign" and returned home to kneel and worship the miniature statue of the celestial official.
Only Meng Heze was disdainful: "Wei Ping, your impure intentions and far-fetched interpretations—do you think this will win Senior Brother Song’s favor? My senior brother is an upright gentleman, unwavering in his integrity. He has never been one for grandiosity or these superficial displays."If Wei Ping were a female cultivator, Meng Heze would have loved to pin the label of "seductive and bewitching the lord" on her and shove her into the large water vat for growing lotus flowers to sober up.
Wei Ping was currently serving dishes for Song Qianji. Hearing this, he gave Meng Heze a pitiful yet gentle smile: "Senior Brother exaggerates. Wei Ping wouldn’t dare."
Song Qianji was having southern cuisine today. When eating, he was always focused and never distracted by verbal sparring.
Three crystal-clear crystal shrimp dumplings, three intensely fragrant steamed chicken feet with black bean sauce, three soft and glutinous fresh pork siu mai, a small plate of crisp blanched Chinese kale, paired with a bowl of black chicken and ginseng soup with wolfberries simmered over uninterrupted fire for six hours, and finally, refreshing Buddha's hand citron tea cakes to cut through the richness.
—Made with freshly picked green tea from the Great Evolution Sect Spiritual Spring this year.
The tableware and plating were exquisite, arranged in a vibrant floral pattern. Song Qianji ate everything clean.
Wei Ping ignored Meng Heze’s furious glare and continued:
"Master Song, I heard you obtained the Seven Wonders Zither from Qin Xian, which can transform into a treasure ship. Once all the canals are fully repaired, will you take me for a ride? I’d love to see how majestic the ‘Song’-shaped waterways look from the sky."
Song Qianji wiped his fingers clean, sensing something odd in the other’s tone, as if he had heard it somewhere in a past life.
Still, he earnestly corrected him:
"Thousand Canals won’t forever lack tall buildings, nor will it only have yellow earth and wind-blown sand. In the future, when you fly on your sword and look down from above, you’ll see the fields green in spring, with misty willows and painted bridges; in autumn, yellow and red leaves intermingling, golden wheat fields rippling like waves; in winter, everything blanketed in white snow, silver-clad and pure.
"Not as you described—vast emptiness with only a single character. If the canals are repaired but Thousand Canals still has nothing, and my name stands alone between heaven and earth, what would be the point?"
Wei Ping’s hand, holding the silk cloth, suddenly trembled.
He looked up abruptly, gazing at Song Qianji with an unfamiliar, stunned expression.
Millions worshipped him as a divine savior; millions held the character "Song" in their hearts.
But in Song Qianji’s heart, there was no "Song," no empty fame or authority, no power or status.
Only Thousand Canals. Only his people.
"Was it worth it?" Wei Ping heard his own voice turn somewhat cold.
"Worth what?" Song Qianji was puzzled.
He thought, I came down the mountain to enjoy the pleasures of farming. Wasn’t digging canals just for planting? If the fields aren’t cultivated yet but my name is already written out, how embarrassing.
"Never mind." Wei Ping resumed his smile and began clearing the messy dishes.
Wei Ping was diligent, sweet-tongued, and with his plain, youthful face and occasionally pitiful expressions, he won over everyone near and far in less than half a month.
Apart from Meng Heze stubbornly resisting and refusing to be won over, everyone else’s preferences for sweet, spicy, or sour flavors were thoroughly figured out.
Just as Meng Heze was nearly grinding his teeth in fury and on the verge of smashing his sword, Ji Chen finally arrived with disheveled hair and good news:
"I reviewed the recordings from all four city gate arrays and found he entered through the west gate. He spoke with a few rogue cultivators along the way. Following this clue and unraveling it layer by layer, I actually dug up something."
"You’re something! Quite capable!"
"Not me—money makes the devil turn the millstone." Ji Chen slapped down a messy stack of papers. "He came from Windchill City. A good-for-nothing loafer who drank and gambled. No one has ever seen him with friends or family."Meng Heze no longer minded his ugly handwriting, committing each character firmly to memory before crumpling the paper, imagining he was crushing Wei Ping's head:
"I think his tragic backstory is all lies!"
"What exactly is wrong with this person?" Ji Chen asked.
"Everything!" Meng Heze carefully explained the whole story from beginning to end.
He hadn't expected much from Ji Chen initially - in his view, Young Master Ji lacked common sense, being both foolish and naive enough to need protection. To deal with Wei Ping, he'd need ten thousand times his current capability.
Unexpectedly, Young Master Ji understood better than he did:
"When I was at home, my uncles all married multiple wives and took many concubines. Those women, idle in their deep courtyards, loved nothing more than competing for favor, suppressing others, showing off, creating misunderstandings - all to gain more affection from their husbands. Listen to how Wei Ping speaks, look at his tactics of feigning innocence and grievance. Don't you understand yet?"
"Un-understand what?" Meng Heze blinked.
What did these two things have in common?
Ji Chen tapped his head: "That Wei Ping isn't some Rogue Cultivator or Sword Cultivator - he's basically a resentful woman from the inner chambers!"
The fog finally lifted before Meng Heze's eyes: "No wonder something felt off! I've never encountered this kind of opponent before! How do we counter his tricks?"
Wei Ping's appearance had rapidly warmed the relationship between Meng Heze and Ji Chen.
Though Meng Heze wouldn't admit it aloud, in his heart he already considered Ji Chen a sworn brother who understood him completely.
Ji Chen slapped his thigh: "We've only heard of Wei Ping's reputation without seeing the man himself. Let me personally meet him. You cover me from the side!"
Meng Heze slapped his sword: "Good! Drive out the villain, return our senior brother!"
...
Wei Ping had followed Liu the Carpenter back to Xiaolan Village today, helping out at the threshing ground.
After half a year of hard work, harvest time had finally arrived. During autumn harvest, the entire village - young and old - worked together, the joyous atmosphere rivaling New Year celebrations.
Wei Ping, with his high comprehension and quick learning, needed only brief observation before he could independently use the flail for threshing and grain separation. Not long after starting, even Liu the Carpenter praised his diligent work and experienced posture.
Applying his talent for grasping everything through mastering one thing to this context, Wei Ping found it both amusing and somewhat absurd.
Whether cultivating at home, drinking heavily in pleasure houses, or killing for money outside, he'd never imagined he'd one day do farm work with his own hands.
But Thousand Canals held too many mysteries, and he still couldn't figure out Song Qianji's depths.
Wei Zhanyang had been wrong - it wasn't just when Meng Heze was by Song Qianji's side that Song Qianji gained an extra life.
As long as Song Qianji remained among the people, he had countless lives, because countless people remained loyal to him, willing to sacrifice themselves for him.
A full day of farm work quickly brought Wei Ping closer to Liu the Carpenter, reaching the point where they could pat each other's shoulders comfortably.
Only now could he expect truthful answers to his questions.
"I heard that during Thousand Canals' great drought, Song Xian Guan knew a Cultivation Method that could make withered sprouts grow again?"
"Exactly! Song Xian Guan has great power - he can use his own spiritual energy to nourish grain sprouts, wheat shoots, and tree saplings. Back then, he traveled throughout Thousand Canals without rest. Wherever he went, he'd squat like this to perform the technique." Liu the Carpenter knelt on one knee, demonstrating a five-fingers-pressing-the-ground posture. "People even saw him in the fields late at night."
Wei Ping marveled: "No wonder everyone is so grateful to him.""Not only that, he also waited for the rain. After the first rainfall, the rains in Thousand Canals became more frequent. Otherwise, where would we get the grain we're harvesting today? Let's go dig for wild vegetables."
"Waited for the rain?"
"Yes, sincerity moves the heavens, and the heavens have eyes!" Liu the Carpenter smiled honestly.
Wei Ping also smiled.
Rather than believing in sincerity moving the heavens, he preferred to believe that Song Qianji had forcibly used some extremely taxing technique to command clouds and rain within a certain range, defying the natural order, and must have paid a great price.
What kind of path did Song Qianji want to walk?
Wei Ping had never been an Immortal Official, but he considered himself experienced enough to understand the intricacies of how Immortal Officials managed their territories.
Cultivators relied on incense offerings and the power of faith and vows to enhance their luck, so should they save people from suffering and hardship, protecting this mortal realm?
The experience of great families and sects in the Cultivation World told cultivators they shouldn't do this. What the Zhao Family did was excessive exploitation and overextension, which is not conducive to healthy development, and was also an anomaly in the Cultivation World.
According to common practice, one should alternate tension with relaxation—five parts extraction, four parts charity, leaving one part to nature, depending on heaven for food.
Otherwise, without illness or disaster, who would worship at the God Temple?
Without pain or suffering, who would seek Immortal Officials?
Cultivators sought the Great Dao, constantly competing every moment. Competing with peers for resources, competing with the Heavenly Dao for time.
Like Song Qianji, spending all his time benefiting Thousand Canals, was destined to yield disproportionate returns compared to the effort put in.
When Thousand Canals had favorable weather and everyone lived in peace and contentment, people would take everything for granted and expect more.
Human desires were endless—with a thatched hut, they'd want a tiled house; with a tiled house, they'd want a large compound with multiple courtyards.
With a compound, they'd complain about why others had fine horses and fragrant carriages.
By then, the Immortal Official would be unable to satisfy everyone's desires. The mortals would instead bear resentment, blaming you for no longer giving.
Was Thousand Canals, for which Song Qianji delayed his Dao path and sacrificed everything, truly worth it?
Could this untrodden path really be walked successfully?
Liu the Carpenter stood up, dusting off his knees.
The sun cast westward, crimson-gold sunset glow shining on the tall grain stacks. The wind carried the dry fragrance of grain, dispersing flowing sweat. Wives wiped their husbands' brows, children brought water to their mothers. Though busy and laborious, it was harmonious and joyful, with smiles radiating from every face.
These smiles were too similar, and too dazzling.
Wei Ping finally asked the question: "If one day, you want something that Immortal Official Song cannot provide?"
"Ah?" Liu the Carpenter didn't understand.
Wei Ping repeated the question.
He very much wanted to know whether Song Qianji would lose offerings, lose faith, lose everything when he stopped giving.
"Immortal Official Song has never given us anything." Liu the Carpenter's smile faded, his expression turning serious.
The lingering sunset made his dark complexion and the wrinkles carved by life's hardships appear even deeper.
He said to Wei Ping:
"Look at this river here, that road there—they weren't created by Immortal Official Song with a wave of his sleeve. They were built basket by basket, shovel by shovel, with our own hands by every person in our village! Women cooked at home, men worked outside. When fathers lost strength, sons took over—every household was like this. Our Thousand Canals was once prosperous too, our ancestors were farming scholars, we only want to live like proper human beings!"
"On his first day here, Immortal Official Song told us not to kneel, not to worship at the God Temple. He said he wouldn't fulfill any of our wishes."
He turned, gazing toward the direction of the heavenly city in the remaining sunset glow:“People bow to him not to seek wealth or goods, nor to beg for his alms. They only wish for him to live a hundred years, safe and healthy every year.”
Xiao Hu chased and roughhoused with his playmates by the grain pile. Liu the Carpenter saw this and, as if waking from a dream, laughed and scolded as he went to scoop up his son.
Only Wei Ping remained behind, thunderstruck and frozen in place: “They only wish for him to live a hundred years, safe and healthy every year…”
The fierce west wind whipped at his robes, carrying him all the way to the springtime city of Hua Wei.
Back then, the Grand Audience Assembly had just concluded. Clutching a copy of the Hero Summons and the Star-Picking Game chess manual, he approached the bustling gambling den. Looking up at the options labeled “Calligrapher Sage” and “Chess Devil,” it was as if he saw two dead ends leading to the same destination.
Drawing his sword and gazing around in bewilderment, he raised his voice and placed a heavy bet.
So that high-stakes gamble where he wagered a fortune—he had actually won.
Wei Ping murmured: “A third path—there is a third path!”
Not far away, two figures approached.
“That’s him? Are you sure?” Ji Chen asked.
Meng Heze nodded fiercely.
Ji Chen hesitated: “Isn’t this just a bewitched fool? We two champions have wealth when we need it, looks when we need them—bullying a fool isn’t moral, is it?”
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