Although Wei Ping hadn’t rested all night, he still appeared punctually at Song Academy in the morning, serving steamed soup dumplings and wolfberry yellow osmanthus porridge.
As the tall, strapping young men gathered around the table, Song Qian Ji suddenly felt the table was too small and the space cramped.
It was time to prepare a large round table, preferably one with a rotating surface.
Meng He Ze sighed with an air of importance: “I’ll just eat a little. Last night, Senior Brother Song personally cooked a midnight snack for me. I ate too much.”
As soon as these words were spoken, Ji Chen, Wei Ping, and Lan Fei Yuan all stopped their chopsticks and stared at him, each with a different expression.
Ji Chen asked curiously: “Brother Song can cook? I didn’t know.”
Song Qian Ji nodded: “I know a little.”
“A little means it wasn’t good, right?” Lan Fei Yuan sneered lightly.
“When Senior Brother says ‘a little,’ it means mastery,” Meng He Ze smiled. “I’ve traveled far and wide, but never tasted such a special spring noodle dish as last night’s.”
He thought about how all the hardships on his journey hadn’t made him bend, yet last night after leaving the Immortal Official Mansion, he had vomited while leaning against a wall, vomiting until he couldn’t straighten his back, almost emptying all his bile.
Wei Ping smiled as usual as if he found him childish and wouldn’t bother with him.
Song Qian Ji wondered if he had more talent for cooking than farming.
“Next time I’ll cook more and invite everyone to eat together.”
“Great, I want two bowls!” Ji Chen said happily.
Song Qian Ji: “You can have the whole pot.”
Meng He Ze pressed his lips tightly, his shoulders trembling slightly, looking at Ji Chen as if trying to hold back laughter.
On this clear winter morning, five or six sparrows perched on the plum branch tips, their fluffy heads tucked in, their small round eyes turning alertly.
The dining table was also harmonious, with everyone greeting each other, bringing Song Qian Ji genuine comfort.
He had thought that with Meng, Wei, and Lan gathered together, there would be chaos and no peace, but it seemed he had worried too much.
Meng He Ze appeared to miss Wei Ping very much, putting his arm around Wei Ping’s shoulder and speaking softly:
“I’ve brought back a new batch of disciples. Come with me to see them later.”
Wei Ping also picked up food for him with his chopsticks.
Lan Fei Yuan sipped his porridge while pondering something, as quietly as a dove.
Ji Chen chatted with everyone, never idle.
After the meal, Meng He Ze spoke up: “Senior Brother Song, about last night’s matter…”
He used his eyes to signal Lan Fei Yuan to leave to avoid awkwardness, but the latter seemed not to understand, sitting even more firmly than Ji Chen.
Song Qian Ji: “It’s fine, go ahead.”
In the cultivation world, the bigger the news, the faster it spreads. Perhaps within half a day, the scandal of Hua Wei Sect’s outer disciples collectively defecting would spread throughout the Four Continents.
“This is a long story, starting with Chen Hong Zhu, the daughter of Sect Leader Xu Yun, and her engagement to Wei Zhan Yang, the young master of the Wei family…”
“Clack.” Wei Ping was clearing the bowls and chopsticks, his hands trembling slightly, making a jarring sound as the blue porcelain knocked together.
“I’ve heard about this!” Ji Chen’s face showed excitement, eager for gossip. “The calligraphy and painting trial at the Imperial Audience Assembly, that Wei Zhan Yang who wrote poetry on the mountain cliff—Brother Song, do you remember? The day we first met, I drew an egg, and you drew a potato!”
Meng He Ze knew he talked too much and interrupted him helplessly: “Chen Hong Zhu’s dowry includes a vein of celestial-grade spirit stones.”
“Wow!” Ji Chen exclaimed dramatically, playing to the crowd.
Lan Fei Yuan rolled his eyes slightly, thinking he had known about this eight hundred years ago.
Originally, there were also a million spirit stones of his in that mine, enough to buy an excellent knife.
Now with things messed up, he only had the five hundred thousand prepaid.
Meng He Ze: “Even among celestial-grade mines, there are differences. Hua Wei Sect was reluctant to give up their already developed rich mine. They prospected everywhere and found an earth-grade mine with hidden potential. It’s said that digging another thousand zhang deeper would yield spirit stone rock, just enough to reach celestial grade.”
Lan Fei Yuan thought, the richer they are, the stingier they become.
“To meet the auspicious date for the engagement ceremony, the Affairs Hall divided the outer disciples into small teams, with over twenty people per team, ordering them to accelerate mining without rest day or night. For each additional hour worked, they would add ten spirit stones. Whichever team dug the fastest and deepest mining path would have all its members enter the inner sect. Originally there was only one inner sect position per year, but this time there were more than twenty. Who wouldn’t want to compete desperately?”
Ji Chen: “Even if cultivators’ constitution far exceeds ordinary people, those are just a group of Qi Condensation stage young disciples. It’s too arduous. Fortunately, they can lay protection formations and carry defensive magical tools.”
Song Qian Ji, who had been an outer disciple in his previous life and had mined to save money, said: “With such a rushed schedule, there’s no time to lay formations in the mining tunnels.”
Meng He Ze’s expression grew heavy: “When the mine collapsed, one team of disciples was buried 2,300 zhang underground. Twenty-three people, none survived.”
The smile disappeared from Ji Chen’s face.
Those disciples were fourteen or fifteen years old, dreaming of entering the inner sect and climbing the immortal ladder, but they were forever buried in the bottomless spirit stone mine.
“The Affairs Hall ordered the rush to continue. With the engagement date approaching, they feared disrupting the joyous occasion, so they kept the deaths secret. The bodies were wrapped in bamboo mats and buried on the hillside of the mining site. Fearing the souls would harbor grievances, they set up a formation to suppress them…”
“Outrageous!” Ji Chen slammed the table.
“This was discovered by the outer disciples, and chaos erupted, which led to the later break-in at the sect gates and collective defection. When I last went to Hua Wei Sect to deliver grain, I had met them at the entrance of Song Academy and said, ‘If you find it unbearable, come to Thousand Canals to find me.’ Seeing injustice, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing!”
“We broke through the encirclement, fled in different directions, reunited outside Hua Wei City, boarded the Seven Wonders Treasure Ship, and only then shook off the pursuing elders, rushing back to Thousand Canals…”
Before leaving, Meng He Ze had been wealthy. Song Qian Ji had not only given him money and talismans but also let him take the treasure ship for emergencies.
Lan Fei Yuan didn’t believe it: “How could a group of outer disciples break into Hua Wei Sect’s gates so easily? As soon as the riot started, they would have been caught before they could leave their dormitories. Do you think a major sect’s formations are just for show, and the Law Enforcement Hall elders eat for nothing?”
Meng He Ze: “Someone inside Hua Wei Sect helped, actively contacting me so they could join me.”
Ji Chen: “Who was it?”
Meng He Ze glanced at Song Qian Ji, his expression extremely complex: “Miss Chen.”
“Her again!” Ji Chen clicked his tongue. “Miss Chen is about to be engaged but hasn’t forgotten Brother Song! Can this marriage even happen?”
Lan Fei Yuan and Wei Ping’s gazes toward Song Qian Ji also changed.
“No wonder your reputation for romance has spread far and wide,” Lan Fei Yuan said strangely. “You have a face.”
Getting help from a beautiful female cultivator of noble birth who was willing to lower herself would indeed make most men feel honored.
“I have no face,” Song Qian Ji explained seriously. “She did this because she wanted to follow her heart’s desire. It has nothing to do with me.”