At the back door of the Immortal Official Mansion, in a narrow shaded alley, Wei Ping was pinned against the wall by his collar.

He raised the back of his hand to wipe away the blood from the corner of his mouth and probed the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

Two of his back teeth had loosened.

Meng He Ze’s punch had shown no mercy, yet Wei Ping smiled:

“Master Song took a sword strike for me, and you punched me once. I won’t fight back.”

The alley was very narrow, just wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The sunlight was blocked by the gray eaves, unable to spill in even slightly.

When Wei Ping first arrived at Thousand Canals County, the queue in front of the mansion was packed with people, bustling with noise. But Meng He Ze had led him through this cool alley and pushed open a hidden small door.

That was the first time he entered the Immortal Official Mansion and met Song Qian Ji.

At that time, Meng He Ze had joked while swinging his long sword:

“You’re the one I brought in through the back door, so you must be on my side from now on!”

Now Meng He Ze’s right fist was clenched tightly, his left hand gripping Wei Ping’s collar, the veins on the back of his hand bulging:

“Stop pretending with me! The assassination in Thousand Canals District must have something to do with you!”

Wei Ping didn’t struggle, but leaned against the wall, tilting his head with a smile: “Senior Brother Meng, accusations require evidence.”

“I’m not a naive young master like Ji Chen. I don’t need evidence, only instinct!” Meng He Ze placed his sword sheath horizontally against Wei Ping’s neck.

“Leave Thousand Canals, don’t force me to take action!”

Wei Ping was Song Qian Ji’s steward, serving him three meals a day, and also participating in the development of Thousand Canals, single-handedly establishing the Thousand Canals District, with a deep influence on Thousand Canals County.

Meng He Ze didn’t want to disappoint Song Qian Ji; he wanted Wei Ping to leave on his own.

“I won’t leave, and I’m not the one you should be guarding against. Don’t you know who’s recuperating at Song Academy? That’s right, you just returned last night, and others wouldn’t dare tell you.” Wei Ping ignored the sword, staring intently at Meng He Ze’s pupils,

“He is the mastermind behind this assassination—Lan Fei Yuan!”

Meng He Ze’s whole body shook: “How can such a dangerous person be allowed to stay by Senior Brother Song’s side?”

Wei Ping slipped from his grasp like a slippery fish, smoothing his collar: “Senior Brother is kind-hearted and says he was just doing a paid job. Not only does he not kill him, but he treats his wounds and lets him stay at Song Academy. Lan Fei Yuan is the most expensive assassin in the black market, having killed countless Nascent Soul cultivators. He has a wolf’s heart and can never be tamed.”

Meng He Ze clenched his jaw tightly.

Wei Ping leaned close to his ear and smiled: “Since we can’t kill him at Song Academy… tonight at the third watch, I’ll lure him out, and we’ll kill him together.”

Meng He Ze stepped back two paces as if seeing Wei Ping for the first time: “But Senior Brother doesn’t want to kill him.”

Wei Ping lowered his voice: “If you don’t tell and I don’t tell, how would Senior Brother know? He’ll just think Lan Fei Yuan ran away by himself.”

Meng He Ze fell silent. Wei Ping’s suggestion was too tempting. Just as he was about to agree, he suddenly noticed the smile in the other’s eyes and abruptly awakened:

“You’re hiding something from Senior Brother, and you want me to become like you? Wishful thinking! How could I get on the same boat as you?”

Wei Ping thought to himself, what a pity: “Fine, I’ll do the dirty work myself.”

He sighed, making a gesture to leave, when suddenly his left hand shot out like a claw, without warning, straight for Meng He Ze’s shoulder.

Meng He Ze was startled and turned his sword to block, but Wei Ping’s right palm struck toward his ribs.

The alley was too confined for easy movement, so when they fought, every blow connected with flesh, quick as lightning.

For a moment, the wind whistled through the deep alley as energy surged.

Since they were close to the Immortal Official Mansion, neither used spiritual energy or magical artifacts. After exchanging about twenty moves of fists and kicks, Wei Ping’s speed was slightly faster.

“You deceived Senior Brother Song,” Wei Ping smiled. “The wounds you received at the foot of Hua Wei Mountain haven’t healed at all.”

Meng He Ze looked at him coldly.

Wei Ping turned and walked out of the small alley.

Meng He Ze: “Where are you going?”

“Thousand Canals District is being rebuilt after the battle. I’m going to supervise the work. Why is Senior Brother Meng following me?”

“I need to keep an eye on you!”

…

Half of the shops in Thousand Canals District had already reopened.

On one side of the street were broken walls and ruins, with carts carrying wood and paint coming and going, carpenters, blacksmiths, and masons working vigorously. On the other side were waiters from restaurants soliciting customers, vendors pushing carts and selling snacks, and young women selecting silk and fabric flowers.

After destruction came rebirth, with vibrant vitality emanating from every new tile and every blue brick.

“Is this where Senior Brother Song was attacked?” Meng He asked.

“Yes,” Wei Ping nodded.

Meng He Ze wanted to say something more, such as reviewing the assassination attempt, but people kept greeting Wei Ping:

“Manager Wei is here, try some candied haws?”

“Hello, Manager Wei, buy some cabbage and make dumplings for Immortal Official Song!”

Wei Ping smiled at everyone he saw, constantly responding.

“The vegetables look so fresh today, I’ll take two.”

“Would Senior Brother Meng like some cake? From Hong Fu’s stall, come try it.”

When someone needed help, he rolled up his sleeves and immediately got to work, pushing a cart or fixing a tile, never finding it troublesome.

It was Meng He Ze who felt somewhat uncomfortable.

He noticed that Wei Ping’s smile had changed. It was no longer that perfect arc of the lips that seemed gentle but was fake.

Wei Ping now smiled with eyes curved, genuine, and sincere.

…

Lan Fei Yuan selected three good fur pelts from the storehouse, holding them in his arms, looking like a black bear from a distance.

He grumbled: “Without spiritual energy, doing things is troublesome.”

Entering Song Academy and seeing Song Qian Ji busy, he complained: “What are you picking so many seeds for?”

“When spring comes next year, I want to plant a ‘seed field’ in Heavenly City to find ways to increase yield per acre. Generation after generation, we’ll cultivate superior varieties, so that eventually all the grain seeds in Thousand Canals will be selected from the best of the ‘seed field’,” Song Qian Ji said.

Lan Fei Yuan thought I was just saying your life is boring, not asking why you’re doing what you’re doing.

But since Song Qian Ji had answered seriously, he didn’t feel comfortable complaining further.

“What cultivation method do you practice? How come I’ve never seen you cultivate? Where does your cultivation come from?”

Lan Fei Yuan was now certain that Song Qian Ji hadn’t practiced any evil arts to bewitch people, which made him even more curious. “If you don’t want to say…”

Song Qian Ji said frankly: “I practice a method that communicates with nature and benefits farming, called ‘Spring Night Welcome Rain.'”

Lan Fei Yuan thought I’ve roamed the cultivation world for so many years, yet I’ve never heard of this method.

“Who created this technique? Is it a secret inheritance?”

Song Qian Ji smiled: “I thought of it myself.”

Lan Fei Yuan was speechless, only carrying the heavy fur pelts into the room and throwing them heavily on the table.

Comparing oneself to others only leads to frustration. Is this reasonable?

The other cultivators should hear this.

…

Because Manager Wei was held up by a cabbage vendor in Thousand Canals District who enthusiastically promoted his wares, lunch at Song Academy today consisted of pork and cabbage dumplings.

The plump, white dumplings fell into the black sauce, coated with vinegar, soy sauce, chili, and sesame.

With one bite, the juices burst forth, filling the mouth with fragrance.

Wei Ping glanced at Lan Fei Yuan’s expression several times, and seeing him eat with concentration, couldn’t help but remind him via spiritual transmission: “Don’t forget tonight at the third watch.”

Lan Fei Yuan didn’t answer, but said loudly:

“Manager Wei, go buy me three bolts of cloth and a sewing kit. The cloth should be good silk from ‘Embroidery Heap,’ remember to get only this year’s newest patterns. The scissors should be from the old blacksmith shop at the easternmost end of Chang Hua Street in Hong Fu County.”

Wei Ping’s face changed abruptly, and he transmitted again: “You’re not leaving?”

Lan Fei Yuan said aloud: “The dumplings are delicious. Oh, and buy me a pipa too. When I sing without musical accompaniment, I don’t feel right.”

Song Qian Ji gave Lan Fei Yuan a glance that contained a warning.

Only then did the latter stop talking.

After the meal, Wei Ping pulled Lan Fei Yuan into the kitchen, saying he would make him wash the dishes, otherwise he wouldn’t run errands to buy things for him.

Once the door closed, it was still Wei Ping who washed the dishes.

With the sound of rushing water in the sink and the constant clinking of dishes, Wei Ping said in a low voice: “Thousand Canals is now like an iron bucket. Even for me, it’s not easy to send out five people. If you miss this opportunity, in the future…”

Lan Fei Yuan waved his hand as if shooing away a flying insect while stealing some kitchen sugar: “I’m eating and drinking well here, and Song Qian Ji isn’t going to kill me. Why should I leave?”

“What about your business?” Wei Ping asked, suppressing his anger.

“Year-end closing, taking a break!”

“What about your accomplices?”

“Song Qian Ji said they’re working in the fields, shoveling manure. They’re all fine, don’t try to trick me.”

Wei Ping slammed down a bowl and paced back and forth like an agitated lion.

He didn’t believe what Lan Fei Yuan said. Despite the good food and drink, Lan Fei Yuan couldn’t use spiritual energy, was like an ordinary person, and couldn’t take half a step out of Song Academy, which was no different from imprisonment.

How could someone who lived on the edge of a knife be content with being trapped? Was he planning a second assassination attempt?

“Don’t worry, even if I stay, I won’t expose you. Now go buy me scissors, thread, silk, and a pipa.”

“Meow.” Wei Ping was startled but saw a cat nimbly slip through the window.

Lan Fei Yuan skillfully picked up the cat, stroking its fur absently: “When I’ve completely recovered and rested for a while, if I’m in a good mood, I’ll leave.”

Since entering Song Academy, he had even cursed less.

Life-and-death situations, water, and fire, and the gleam of blades and swords had disappeared from his dreams, leaving only the monumental task of selecting a single seed.

Wei Ping coldly said: “If you don’t leave tonight, I’ll spread the word in the black market that after your failed assassination, you were tied up like a dog at Song Academy by Song Qian Ji, suffering torment and torture, ruining your reputation so you can never do business again!”

Lan Fei Yuan thought this kid was vicious enough.

But he smiled and said: “If you cut off my retreat, then I’ll never leave. Let’s see which of us goes crazy first. Go ahead.”

Wei Ping turned and left, walking away with imposing momentum, his sleeves creating a breeze, nearly colliding with Ji Chen.

Lan Fei Yuan followed behind him, holding the cat and pacing with his back straight.

Ji Chen was dumbfounded: “What’s going on today? Brother Meng doesn’t look happy, and now none of you look happy either.”

Lan Fei Yuan said loudly: “I’m happy! Brother Ji, do you play cards?”

Wei Ping turned back, expressionless: “I’m happy too.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Ji Chen shook his head. “I don’t play cards. Someone just delivered an invitation outside the city gate, inviting Senior Brother Song to a banquet on the fifteenth of next month. I’m going to find Senior Brother Song.”

An invitation card was placed on the stone table, radiant and bringing glory to the humble courtyard.

Song Qian Ji didn’t need to open it. Just seeing the red background with gold flowers and the Hua Wei Sect emblem, he understood:

“Chen Hong Zhu’s engagement ceremony?”

Ji Chen said: “Senior Brother, you’re so prescient! But why is Hua Wei Sect inviting us?”

Lan Fei Yuan, holding the cat, laughed: “A weasel inviting a chicken to dinner. What do you think?”

“Then I’ll go on Senior Brother’s behalf,” Ji Chen volunteered. “After all, Senior Brother doesn’t like these occasions.”

“No, I’ll go,” Song Qian Ji said.

Wei Ping and Ji Chen looked at him in surprise.

For Chen Hong Zhu’s engagement ceremony, Hua Wei Sect would surely host a grand banquet.

Various sects and families would gather. Given Song Qian Ji’s personality, he would certainly not enjoy dealing with such an occasion.

Lan Fei Yuan frowned: “You think they want to invite you?! It’s the usual tactic of major sects—if they can’t kill you, they try to rope you in, to make you temporarily let down your guard.”

“Everyone wants to see me. So I’ll go out and let them see.”

Song Qian Ji thought, that instead of having various forces anxious and constantly sending spies to Thousand Canals to scout, it would be better to appear openly and let them see enough of him at once.

Meng He Ze had returned with injuries this time. Young people care about face—being beaten half to death outside, he wouldn’t feel comfortable admitting it when he returned.

But if Song Qian Ji didn’t show his face, how could others from Thousand Canals move about freely in the future?

Most importantly, the timing of Chen Hong Zhu’s engagement ceremony was just right—

Deep winter was when all things rest, precisely the farming off-season. Going out once would settle matters once and for all.

It wouldn’t interfere with next spring’s busy farming season.

Thinking of the vibrant spring to come, a smile appeared in Song Qian Ji’s eyes.