Meng He Ze’s sword strike was fierce and swift, cleaving downward as if to split both person and chair in two. Had it been an ordinary cultivator, they would have tumbled from the recliner and fled for their lives.

But Lan Fei Yuan was no ordinary cultivator. He was a Golden Core cultivator who dared to kill those of the Nascent Soul realm, constantly living on the edge between life and death.

Even with his spiritual energy sealed and wounds unhealed, his perception remained sharp.

He didn’t move a hair, sitting steady as if fishing from a stable platform.

The sword’s edge stopped at his neck, slicing through his embroidered collar adorned with flower petals.

“Who are you?!” Meng He Ze shouted harshly.

Lan Fei Yuan extended two fingers, lightly tapping the sword’s edge: “We were having a civil conversation, why resort to violence? So ill-mannered—who taught you such behavior?”

Meng He Ze’s chest heaved violently.

He felt he couldn’t restrain himself and only wanted to cut down this bewitching person.

“Little Meng.”

A gentle call suddenly sounded from behind.

“Senior Brother Song!”

Meng He Ze joyfully withdrew his sword and regained his senses.

Yet he saw Song Qian Ji truly holding a bowl of medicine, and his eyes instantly reddened.

How long have I been away? Just from autumn to winter, just a few snowfalls’ time, and Senior Brother has been reduced to brewing medicine for others.

“This is Friend Lan, temporarily staying at Song Academy to recuperate.”

Song Qian Ji’s single sentence instantly cooled Meng He Ze’s raging anger. He returned a smug glance to Lan Fei Yuan:

Who is the host and who is the guest is now clear, isn’t it?

You’re merely a patient recovering from injuries; I won’t bother with you.

Lan Fei Yuan took the bowl and drank the medicine, deliberately putting on airs: “Tonight’s medicine is truly bitter, not as palatable as what you brewed at noon.”

That tone was lilting as if performing in an opera. Meng He Ze felt nauseated hearing it.

“Impossible.” Song Qian Ji was puzzled. “This is what was brewed at noon; I just reheated it.”

Lan Fei Yuan’s face changed from green to white, and he set down the bowl heavily.

“Hahahahaha!” Meng He Ze burst into laughter.

After laughing, he couldn’t help being curious: “I wonder, how did Friend Lan sustain his injuries?”

When he had drawn his sword, he had already seen clearly that this was a Golden Core cultivator whose spiritual energy had been sealed.

In Thousand Canals County, who would so viciously harm a guest of Immortal Official Song?

Song Qian Ji: “I did it.”

The courtyard suddenly fell silent. Meng He Ze was speechless with shock.

Lan Fei Yuan abruptly stood up, strode back to his room, and slammed the door violently.

Meng He Ze laughed so hard he wildly slapped the stone table. Let that bewitching person show off!

Song Qian Ji sat back in his recliner: “What are you laughing at?”

“I’m happy to see Senior Brother. Hearing that Senior Brother has broken through to Nascent Soul makes me even happier.”

Song Qian Ji smiled.

Seeing his good mood, Meng He Ze took the initiative to confess: “This time when I went out, I not only brought back my family but also brought back this year’s outer disciples from Hua Wei Sect.”

Song Qian Ji’s heart skipped a beat, his smile stiffening: “How many people?”

“All of them.”

Song Qian Ji hugged a small cushion: “I see…”

Meng He Ze felt uneasy: “Is Senior Brother unhappy?”

Song Qian Ji honestly said: “A little.”

Meng He Ze immediately admitted his fault: “I’m sorry, Senior Brother. I know I was wrong.”

When Song Qian Ji had previously told Meng He Ze to do whatever he wanted and not worry about him, it wasn’t empty talk.

But this time he was indeed a bit unhappy.

Song Qian Ji asked: “Where did you go wrong?”

Meng He Ze: “I was wrong to return late. When Senior Brother was assassinated, I wasn’t by your side to protect you, letting you face danger.”

“No,” Song Qian Ji shook his head. “I don’t need protection.”

“I was wrong to bring trouble back to Thousand Canals. These outer disciples followed me in betraying the sect. Hua Wei Sect will know sooner or later and won’t let it go easily. I played the hero on impulse, taking on something I should resolve myself!”

“No,” Song Qian Ji still shook his head. “I’m not afraid of Hua Wei Sect either.”

Meng He Ze’s face flushed red, feeling both bitter and irritated: “Was I wrong to draw my sword against Friend Lan? But he was too…”

“What does it have to do with him?!” Song Qian Ji sighed. “Since you could bring so many people back, your journey must have had unexpected complications and numerous setbacks. You were wrong not to send me a message.”

Meng He Ze was stunned: “I… I didn’t want to trouble Senior Brother.”

Song Qian Ji: “If you don’t tell me when you encounter problems, how would I know if you’re injured, if you’ve met powerful enemies you can’t handle if you have enough talismans, or if you have enough money?”

“Senior Brother!” Meng He Ze’s eyes reddened slightly, the tip of his nose tingling with emotion. “My wounds have all healed!”

Song Qian Ji stood up: “Wait a moment.”

Meng He Ze stood alone dazed in the courtyard, thinking that he had just returned, and even if he had erred first, Senior Brother wouldn’t fetch something to beat him, would he?

After a while, he thought, if he wanted to beat me, I’d let him. As long as Senior Brother’s anger subsides, taking a few hits is nothing.

With a light clatter, Song Qian Ji placed something on the stone table:

“Come here.”

Meng He Ze looked closely and saw it was a bowl of noodles.

The north wind blew on the winter night, and white steam rose from the noodle soup. Under the moonlight and candlelight, the noodles glistened.

The scalding soup made him feel warmth from the inside out:

“Senior Brother.”

“This is my first time making noodles. I don’t know how they taste,” Song Qian Ji said. “Try them.”

He had watched others do it a few times and didn’t think it was difficult. It should be easier than cultivation or farming.

Meng He Ze was overjoyed.

“Since Senior Brother made it personally, it must be excellent.”

He eagerly picked up the chopsticks and mixed the noodles.

Who knew that the more he stirred, the murkier the soup became, and the more mushy the vegetables turned? The noodles broke into pieces, sticking together in a gooey mess.

Meng He Ze had a bad feeling, and after just one bite, tears nearly fell into the bowl.

How could such a strange taste exist in this world?

Song Qian Ji saw his expression change slightly and anxiously said: “Not good? If it doesn’t suit your taste, just throw it away.”

Meng He Ze hurriedly said: “It’s good, it’s good, especially good!”

Song Qian Ji reached for the bowl: “Let me taste it!”

Meng He Ze was so frightened that he buried his head and gobbled up the noodles. Regardless of whether they were sour, salty, bitter, spicy, or sweet—whatever bizarre flavor they were—he gulped them down hastily, presenting a clean bowl: “I’ve finished!”

Song Qian Ji smiled: “Is it that good…”

The culinary genius turns out to be me.

Next time I’ll make another bowl and let Wei Ping try it too.

…

After the assassination attempt at Thousand Canals District, the long street was left in devastation.

Buildings collapsed, shops ruined, and everywhere was marked with charred traces of spiritual energy impacts and explosions, causing sighs of regret.

During the day, reconstruction proceeded vigorously, but at night the craftsmen went home to rest, leaving only piles of boards, vermilion paint, blue tiles, iron nails…

Ji Chen, holding a formation disk, moved through the broken walls and ruins, concealing his aura with the formation. His footsteps made no sound as he landed, like a shadow.

Finally, amidst the scattered remains of “Peaceful Records,” he glimpsed a familiar figure.

What was Wei Ping doing in Thousand Canals District so late at night?

No, he wasn’t alone.

They stood in the shadows where the moonlight couldn’t reach, with Wei Ping’s back perfectly blocking the view of the other person.

Ji Chen didn’t get too close.

…

“My father wanted me to bring people, but thinking of our brotherly bond, I couldn’t bear to see you persist in your delusion, bewitched by villains,” Wei Zhan Yang said, lightly kicking a charred signboard. “So I came alone. Wei Zhen Yu, you left home when you were young, and only I still treat you as a brother.”

Wei Ping smiled: “I appreciate that. You walk your path of ascending to immortality, and I’ll walk my Thousand Canals bridge. Life or death, each relies on their abilities, each follows their destiny.”

“I don’t understand. You don’t like constraints, you want freedom, you want ease, but what are you doing now?”

“Seeking ease,” Wei Ping said. “Ease isn’t about wandering the world as a vagabond. When my heart is at ease, that is true ease.”

“If you have no life, how can you be at ease? Even if I don’t marry Chen Hong Zhu, and the Wei family stays out of this, Hua Wei Sect won’t let him go. Do you know that thousands of outer disciples from Hua Wei Sect broke into the sect gates at night, defecting to Meng He Ze, and fleeing to Thousand Canals? This time the grudge is in the open. Following Song Qian Ji, you only have death, not life! Turn back, there’s still time!”

Wei Ping: “The token I gave you will expire after one incense stick’s time, and the Thousand Canals formation will immediately attack you. You have one incense stick’s time to leave Thousand Canals. Run quickly, there’s still time.”

Hearing these words, Wei Zhan Yang’s face suddenly turned cold, as if removing a mask of “earnest advice” to reveal his cold true face:

“I want to see what kind of path you can forge for yourself.”

When words don’t connect, half a sentence is too much. Wei Zhan Yang suddenly moved closer to Wei Ping, speaking rapidly in a low voice:

“Your new brother is watching you from behind. Go silence him.”

With that, he melted into the deep shadows, instantly vanishing without a trace.

Wei Ping hurriedly turned his head, only to see a figure standing ten zhang away.

Ji Chen’s expression was lost and incredulous as if he couldn’t believe what he’d witnessed.

Wei Ping’s whole body trembled, his mind blank.

—He had been discovered.

Draw his sword to kill Ji Chen and silence him?

He couldn’t do it.

In the unbearable silence, Ji Chen spoke faintly: “It seems you won’t consider my sister after all.”

“The girl you came out to meet at midnight, was she the one you met on the way to ‘Peaceful Records’ that night?”

Wei Ping was dumbfounded: “Ah?”

That day when Red Leaf suddenly arrived, the three from Song Academy braved the light snow to eat barbecue. Ji Chen had asked why he seemed absent-minded, and he had made up a lie, saying he had seen a beautiful girl and was captivated.

Ji Chen asked: “If not her, you wouldn’t deliberately arrange to meet at the place of your first encounter. Unfortunately, the beautiful scenery is no more, only broken walls and ruins remain.”

Wei Ping hurriedly nodded: “Could you keep this matter a secret for me?”

“But if you like a girl, you should court her openly. We would all wish you well. Why do you need to hide?”

Reaching this thought, Ji Chen’s eyes showed suspicion.

Was the person Wei Ping came to meet a girl he admired?

If not, who else could he be meeting? What could they be discussing in a secret midnight meeting?

A gentleman doesn’t pry into his friend’s private affairs. He hadn’t used his spiritual energy earlier to eavesdrop on Wei Ping’s conversation because he still wanted to trust the other party.

“This is because, because…” Wei Ping’s mind raced, lies coming readily to his lips: “Because she came to reject me! She didn’t want to be seen. I am the General Manager of Thousand Canals—who in Heavenly City doesn’t know me? Since there’s no fate between us, it’s better not to add idle gossip that would make her subject to others’ discussion.”

Ji Chen’s suspicious gaze turned to sympathy and even showed some delight: “So that’s it. There are beauties everywhere under the sky. Why not consider my sister?”

Wei Ping was shocked by his ability to change the subject—no matter what was said, he could twist and turn it back to “my sister.”

This was probably some special ability.

“I’ve just faced disappointment and have no heart for romance at the moment. I only want to focus on developing Thousand Canals.”

Ji Chen: “I understand, I understand. By the way, I came to tell you that Brother Meng has just returned! If you see him tomorrow morning, be more patient and try not to provoke him.”

Wei Ping thought that with Meng He Ze around, Song Qian Ji’s safety would have more protection.

Ji Chen thought I had more than one good brother; someone would consider my sister. I should put effort into Brother Meng.

“No matter what he says, I won’t quarrel with him,” Wei Ping said softly. “Since you’ve stumbled upon my affairs tonight, this is a secret between us brothers. Please don’t let others know.”

Ji Chen angrily said: “Am I, Ji Chen, the kind of long-tongued villain who spreads gossip and damages brotherly feelings?! You think too little of me!”

The two immediately clasped hands in a pact, and Ji Chen vowed solemnly: “Tonight, heaven knows, earth knows, you know, I know—I won’t even tell Brother Song or Brother Meng!”

Wei Ping smiled: “Good brother.”

Sometimes a lie is like a patch on a magnificent brocade robe. If you don’t want others to see it, you must use more thread to sew and conceal it, until you end up with a tattered old garment full of holes.