By the time Editor Ji’s name resounded throughout Thousand Channels County, the year’s end was approaching.

This year, the common folk of Thousand Channels didn’t have to worry about freezing or starving, nor did they need to brave the cold wind to dig for roots. With surplus grain at home and New Year goods already purchased, families could gather around charcoal stoves and braziers to enjoy a prosperous New Year.

After weeding the fields and fertilizing the soil, the remaining time at home was when people pickled vegetables, brewed rice wine, arranged marriages, mended quilts, and tailored new clothes.

The Song Estate only engaged in the last activity, performed solely by Lin Fei Yuan.

“I’m busiest before New Year’s Eve, do you know why?”

Lin Fei Yuan gestured for Song Qian Ji to try on the new clothes.

Song Qian Ji stood straight, arms outstretched: “Business is best at this time. After the New Year passes, there’s no business until after the Lantern Festival.”

“Correct.” Lin Fei Yuan looked at him in surprise, “I even advise my clients that as the year ends, they should repay their debts, settle old grudges, and kill those who deserve killing. Don’t put it off until next year—next year, prices will increase.”

But this year, he was singing, tailoring clothes, and feeding cats at the Song Estate.

That once skinny little frozen cat had grown plumper under his care, with thick, glossy fur. Every day it lounged comfortably on the windowsill under the eaves, like a large ball of yellow and white fur.

Once when Ji Chen tried to play with it, the cat ignored him. When he persisted, it bared its claws and teeth, scratching and biting. This angered Ji Chen, who cursed that the cat resembled its master—ungrateful and unappreciative.

“Sometimes I truly suspect you’re a cat I fed in my previous life, coming back to repay the kindness,” Lin Fei Yuan said in a low voice.

“The clothes are beautiful,” Song Qian Ji smiled, “but your imagination is even more beautiful.”

Lin Fei Yuan was stumped, and while adjusting the fur collar, he warned: “When wearing this outfit in the cultivation world, don’t say I made it.”

The dark smoky-red cape draped down, with a black fox fur trim around the collar. The hem was embroidered with gold thread in wave patterns, the stitches so fine they resembled flowing water and drifting clouds.

“I won’t,” Song Qian Ji nodded, symbolically preserving the other’s face and reputation.

Lin Fei Yuan never praised people, only lightly snorted: “Indeed, the clothes make the man, as the saddle makes the horse. Look at you, transformed from a field farmer to a heavenly immortal.”

Song Qian Ji turned around on the spot, the gold and jade accessories clinking crisply: “It’s somewhat complex and heavy, not very convenient for movement.”

He preferred soft, light clothes suitable for work at any time.

Sleeves that could be rolled up for planting rice, boots sturdy enough for fieldwork.

Lin Fei Yuan angrily said: “You’re going to a banquet, not to fight or kill. Why do you need convenience? Hua Wei Sect’s formations are formidable; you won’t have the advantage if you fight within their grounds. If things don’t seem right, escape immediately, run as fast as you can, understand?”

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “This time they’ve invited me, so if anyone should run, it shouldn’t be me.”

Although he could run very fast, he was tired of running in this life.

“Usually you’re so reasonable, why are you being stubborn now?” Lin Fei Yuan frowned, “Release the seal on my spiritual energy, let me use magic to change my appearance, hide my cultivation level, and disguise myself as a guard disciple to go with you.”

“Is your wound healed?” Song Qian Ji asked.

“I…” Lin Fei Yuan wanted to say it was healed but feared Song Qian Ji would send him away, leaving him no reason to stay longer. If he said it wasn’t healed, he worried Song Qian Ji would tell him to stay and recover, not join the excitement.

After saying “I” for a long time, he was speechless.

“Go if you want, it’s up to you,” Song Qian Ji didn’t argue with him and walked out the door.

Outside, light snow was falling, like plum blossoms scattering in the wind.

His bamboo trellis and vegetable garden fence were all edged with a fluffy white border.

Ji Chen and Meng He Ze were sitting at the table waiting for dinner. They dipped their chopsticks in the snow water on the table, discussing sword formation practice.

Wei Ping brought out a steaming hot mutton hot pot, saying happily: “Sir, your new clothes look wonderful.”

Even on a cloudy day, the smoky-red fabric still reflected a subtle glow, gleaming when examined closely—expensive yet understated.

“Truly exceptional!” Ji Chen raised his head and whispered to Meng He Ze, “Brother Song must have some feelings for Miss Chen. Look, he’s not only willing to go, but he’s also specially changed into new clothes. When have you ever seen him wear formal attire? I never have.”

Meng He Ze picked up the other end of his chopsticks and tapped Ji Chen’s forehead: “What are you always thinking about in that head of yours?”

“I’m thinking that my sister’s lifelong happiness isn’t settled yet. My lifelong happiness is also empty,” Ji Chen fantasized, “At Miss Chen’s engagement ceremony, there must be many young female cultivators attending. I wonder if on this trip to Hua Wei Sect, I might meet a gentle, refined beauty without violent tendencies or a habit of punching people…”

When he failed at talisman studies, he never dared to think of such things. Now with increased confidence, he dared to daydream even in broad daylight.

Meng He Ze frowned, his lips tightly pressed, shaking his head repeatedly, his expression extremely unpleasant.

Wei Ping sincerely said: “Since Brother Ji has such aspirations, I’ll pray for your success in Thousand Channels. May you achieve victory swiftly!”

Ji Chen was overjoyed: “Thank you for your auspicious words, Brother Wei!”

Eating in formal attire risked dipping sleeves into the pot. Fortunately, Wei Ping served the dishes:

“Sir, the ‘Three Hundred and Sixty Basic Facts About the Cultivation World’ and ‘Seventy-Two Things You Must Know After Guiding Qi Into Your Body’ that I co-edited with Master Ji have been well-received. I plan to increase the print run and sell them to Hong Fu. What would be an appropriate price in spirit stones?”

Wei Ping was responsible for the mining and management of spirit stone mines in Thousand Channels County, and Song Qian Ji never questioned it.

The daily expenses of the Immortal Official’s Office and the major expenditures for water conservancy and civil engineering projects in Thousand Channels County were all entrusted to Wei Ping.

But Wei Ping always reported to him.

Song Qian Ji thought for a moment: “How about one spirit stone?”

“One? That’s too low,” Wei Ping hesitated slightly, “It might only cover our printing and selling costs.”

Free for disciples within Thousand Channels, but shouldn’t they earn some money from outsiders?

Others would be eager to join Thousand Channels if they saw its many benefits.

But Song Qian Ji said: “Those question booklets and answer booklets focus on common knowledge and basics. Only young cultivators from ordinary backgrounds, lacking guidance from masters and elders, would find them useful, but they have no money.”

He understood clearly that outer disciples from various sects had nothing, and wandering cultivators were even poorer unless they engaged in robbery and murder.

If the price was high, those who could afford it wouldn’t need it; those who desperately needed it couldn’t afford it.

Wei Ping’s efforts would be wasted, and Ji Chen’s beatings would have been for nothing.

“Brother Song speaks well! Just like when he initially took us in, seeking no fame or reward,” Ji Chen cupped his hands respectfully, “Brother Wei, please arrange for timely printing, so every young cultivator without guidance can learn the latest knowledge and practice with the newest question booklets.”

“Of course, rest assured,” Wei Ping nodded with a smile.

I’ll immediately bribe merchant caravans, establish distribution channels, and sell the complete set of teaching materials across the continent, spreading the name of the severe and cruel “Editor Ji” to the four seas.

By then, would Ji Chen still hope to find female cultivators to gaze at stars and moon, to engage in romantic conversations about flowers and snow?

People on the street would scramble to make way for him. Any female cultivator who glanced at him would tremble in fear.

Meng He Ze saw Wei Ping’s radiant smile and instinctively felt something was amiss.

But with Ji Chen so happy, there was nothing he could do.

…

When the heavy snow subsided, the Song Estate members boarded the Seven Perfections Treasure Ship.

They set off relatively late; many sects and families had already arrived at Hua Wei Sect.

Hua Wei Sect had rushed to renovate Qian Kun Hall and other pavilions, appearing more majestic and impressive from a distance.

The representatives from various sects who came to observe the ceremony were mainly young cultivators, dressed in bright clothes, riding fine horses, laughing and talking loudly, adding much color to the snow-covered mountains and forests.

At the foot of the mountain, Hua Wei City was packed with crowds of people who had come to watch the spectacle.

Chen Hong Zhu’s grand, magnificent engagement ceremony, which had stirred excitement far and wide, was finally about to begin.