On this starless and moonless early spring night, all around was silent.

Before the rain arrived, the candlelight already flickered wildly.

Wei Ping heard the strong wind passing through the flower trellises in Song Manor, making fragmented whimpers. The moist earthy smell surged toward him like waves crashing against his entire body.

He picked up a slightly bitter coriander leaf, chewing it slowly, then suddenly asked: “Is Senior Brother Song waiting for rain again?”

There was a rumor that Thousand Channels had suffered a great drought for three years, and only after Song Qian Ji’s arrival did the first rainfall.

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “Tonight I’m not waiting for rain. I’m waiting for you.”

When waiting for rain, one shouldn’t do other things.

“How nice.” Wei Ping gave a soft laugh and began eating the sticky cold noodles.

He ate faster and faster until he was gulping them down, tears dropping into the noodle bowl.

The young man’s entire body was tense, his face bearing a certain fierce expression, his cheeks working, teeth forcefully chewing, like a wild beast devouring raw flesh.

Sooner or later, Song Qian Ji would know that he had originally come to kill him.

If Song Qian Ji couldn’t tolerate him if Song Manor couldn’t accommodate him, where could he go?

If Song Qian Ji wanted to kill him, he had no strength to fight back; he could only flee.

He had a family but now he didn’t; he didn’t want to sleep at Bright Moon Tower anymore; the lawless and carefree days of the past, he could never return to them.

He once thought the world was vast, with shelter available everywhere, but suddenly looking back, he discovered he had truly become a stray dog, beaten by wind and rain, with nowhere to go.

Song Qian Ji faced Wei Ping’s back, unable to see his expression, but could feel the murderous aura emanating from Wei Ping’s entire body.

He frowned slightly: “If you don’t want to eat, then don’t.”

Wei Ping ignored him, lifted the noodle bowl, and drained it in one gulp.

His emotions were intense but suppressed, aggravating his internal injuries, and causing stagnant blood to surge up to his throat.

After drinking, his mouth was full of the taste of rust, warm and sticky.

“Clang!” The porcelain bowl was set down heavily, and Wei Ping coughed violently.

Song Qian Ji thought, what is he doing? The kitchen doesn’t have many noodle bowls; if one breaks, we’ll have to buy more.

“Are you hiding something from me?” He sighed deeply, deciding to speak openly.

Wei Ping didn’t turn around: “Song Qian Ji, I previously said my life story was tragic—that was a lie. The name Wei Ping is also false. I’m in league with Lin Feiyuan; we both accepted benefits from others to assassinate you—”

“Boom!”

Muffled thunder shook the ground, the spring wind was like a knife, and dark currents surged.

Wei Ping closed his mouth, put down his chopsticks, and slowly stood up.

“Oh.”

Before Wei Ping turned his head, he suspected he was hearing things, but he did indeed hear Song Qian Ji say: “I know.”

His voice was as always, clear and light.

“You know?!”

In that moment, he wanted to grab Song Qian Ji’s collar and shout loudly: What’s wrong with you, how dare you!

Song Qian Ji patted the armrest of the recliner: “On the day we first met, you surveyed Song Manor’s layout, hiding killing intent, restraining yourself. Moreover, when I recruited a manager with strange conditions, a perfectly suitable candidate immediately appeared at my door—how could such good fortune fall upon me? Sigh, that face you have now is also fake, right?”

He had long known Wei Ping was an assassin, but whether he was commissioned by Huawei Sect or the Zhao family, whether for money or fame, he didn’t care.

Because Wei Ping had not done anything to harm him. Judge by deeds, not thoughts.

Wei Ping suddenly turned around: “Although my background, name, and origin are false, my face is false, my devotion to Thousand Channels is true! After knowing your ambitions, I only wanted to help you, with absolutely no intention to harm you!”

His breathing was rapid; in his excitement, fresh blood surged to his throat again.

“Boom!” Lightning flashed across the night sky, and another muffled thunder crashed to the ground.

Song Qian Ji was startled; I’m just a farmer, what ambitions do I have?

“Can you believe my words?!” Wei Ping’s blood-filled voice demanded.

“I believe you,” Song Qian Ji nodded.

Wei Ping’s voice grew louder: “Then I—I killed many people tonight, do you blame me?!”

“I don’t blame you,” Song Qian Ji shook his head. Thinking that if your enemies seek revenge, I’ll bear the responsibility for you too.

“Good! Good!” Wei Ping exclaimed “Good” twice. “Song Qian Ji, I don’t want to go to Qingya, nor Purple Cloud Temple. I don’t want to choose the cultivation path that leads straight to the blue clouds. From top to bottom, one can save for a moment but not forever. Only from bottom to top is the true way to save the world! You and I agree!”

“Save the world?” Song Qian Ji’s spirit shook.

Before his brain could process this, Wei Ping raised his hand, pressing twelve acupuncture points on himself, and his utterly ordinary appearance suddenly transformed.

In the dark and chaotic night, the flickering lightning illuminated the young man’s sword-like eyebrows and star-bright eyes, radiating magnificent spirit.

What a face full of sharp energy.

“My true name is Wei Zhen Yu. Discard the false to preserve the true; two jades joined together to form a bi-disk…”

As Wei Zhen Yu began speaking of his origin and background, Song Qian Ji couldn’t hear him anymore.

“Savior,” he murmured. “I should have guessed earlier.”

He had considered this possibility before; Wei Ping also had the surname Wei.

But Wei Ping’s temperament was too gentle, too modest, like a cup of warm water or a lump of white flour, easily bullied. Even as an assassin, he was the most good-tempered assassin.

Completely contrary to the savior he had seen in the river of time.

Wei Zhen Yu was overly excited: “Let’s create a new Thousand Channels together, let’s walk out the third path to save the world together—”

“Who told you I want to save the world?” Song Qian Ji’s voice turned slightly cold as a bucket of cold water poured on burning charcoal.

“What?” Wei Zhen Yu was stunned.

“Friend Wei, have you misunderstood?” Song Qian Ji looked up at the sky: “I came to Thousand Channels simply to be at ease.”

There was a coolness on his cheek; the vast sky’s fine rain began to fall, as thin as flower needles.

“But you channeled water, you inspected the territory and improved the soil, you prayed for rain, you helped the common people…”

“That was for ease, for better farming. A small effort.” Song Qian Ji interrupted, “Friend Wei, you’ve truly misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood?” Wei Zhen Yu’s expression froze in a smile, quite comical. “I used to not believe anyone could defy heaven to save mankind, but now I believe. This is something only you can do—why won’t you do it!”

Tonight he had experienced great ups and downs, extreme joy and sorrow; his voice trembled slightly: “Song Qian Ji, don’t joke with me.”

“I’m not in the mood to joke.” Song Qian Ji finally looked at him directly, repeating once more: “In this life, I don’t care whether the world lives or dies.”

Wei Zhen Yu’s wounds suddenly hurt intensely all over his body, and he spat out a mouthful of foul blood with a “wa” sound.

Song Qian Ji’s face showed reluctance, but he hardened his heart and didn’t tend to him, only taking out three items and placing them on the stone table.

A zither, a treasure box, and half a scroll of a Go game record.

Wei Zhen Yu’s blood suddenly turned cold: “You want to send me away?”

“These things should have been yours all along. Take them.” Song Qian Ji tried to calm his emotions. “A hundred years from now, the crisis of the World Tree will be a doomsday catastrophe for ordinary people. For you, it might well be an opportunity.”

Wei Ping’s expression grew increasingly cold and stern. His whole body trembled as if in extreme anger.

Yet Song Qian Ji continued his dismissal: “Don’t waste time cooped up in tiny Thousand Channels. You were born to turn the tide, to stand in the highest celestial palace enjoying the offerings of all people, to marry the most beautiful Dao companion.”

“Ha!” Wei Ping laughed loudly. “So in your heart, I’m that kind of person?! I’m after power, status, fame, and beauties?”

“I apologize. My words failed to express my meaning. I judged the heart of a gentleman with the mind of a petty person.” Song Qian Ji suddenly stepped back two paces because Wei Zhen Yu suddenly attacked, sweeping the formation chart, Seven Wonders Zither, and Spring Mountain Painting off the table with one hand.

The world’s greatest treasures were knocked into the vegetable garden, rolling into the soil.

“I don’t want them!” Wei Zhen Yu was burning with rage, raising high the only porcelain bowl left on the table.

“Smash it!” Song Qian Ji shouted. “Smash it!”

Wei Zhen Yu paused, then heavily placed the bowl back on the table.

He drew out a sword still carrying the scent of blood.

This sword he had spotted at a pawnshop in Huawei City: “At that time I truly didn’t know the owner of this sword was you.”

“Nor did I know this sword had fallen into your hands,” Song Qian Ji’s gaze was complex.

“Do you dare to draw your sword now?” Wei Ping pressed the sword and demanded. “Do you have the courage to draw your sword?”

His body full of murderous aura, his tone ruthless: “What are you running from? What are you afraid of? Are you afraid of losing?!”

Question after pressing question, yet Song Qian Ji smiled: “Of course, you’re not afraid of losing. Friend Wei is naturally not afraid of anything.”

His smile was somewhat bleak: “Because you’ve never lost.”

You are the protagonist, you are the center of this world.

When you’re happy, you can come to my Thousand Channels, you can change your name, you can make up stories to deceive people.

You can refuse anyone, and you can also pick up the pieces after I die.

I can not dislike you, not envy you, not hate you, but you shouldn’t say those things to me.

“Wei Zhen Yu, your future is not in Thousand Channels.” Song Qian Ji hardened his heart and repeated: “Take your things and leave Thousand Channels before dawn.”

“Boom!”

Wild winds rolled the clouds, heavy rain poured down.