“Look at my face. Is it more beautiful than when we last met?”

Hearing this question, Song Qian Ji stopped in his tracks and examined her carefully from left to right. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell.”

He Qing Qing smiled. “Senior Brother Song has no distracting thoughts, so naturally you can’t tell.” She took out a jade vial. “This is for you.”

Song Qian Ji stared at the vial’s mouth, detecting a familiar essence, and frowned involuntarily. “What is it?”

“Something beneficial to cultivators.”

“What is it!”

“This is…” He Qing Qing took a deep breath and transmitted her voice: “Juice from the roots of the Sky-Supporting Tree. It can help cultivators enhance their cultivation!”

As for being pushed into a mining pit by fellow disciples and discovering the root system of the Sky-Supporting Tree to obtain this substance—she didn’t mention that.

Song Qian Ji was startled.

The Sky-Supporting Tree?!

Indeed, the cultivation world now appeared peaceful on the surface—the unorthodox path and demonic creatures were leaderless, hiding here and there.

In the eyes of ordinary cultivators, with no great battles between righteous and evil forces, no catastrophic disasters of heaven collapsing and earth cracking, the apocalyptic scene seemed far off. Who could predict what the world would be like over a hundred years later?

Song Qian Ji shook his head.

“You don’t want it?” He Qing Qing was surprised.

“I don’t want it, and I advise you not to want it either,” Song Qian Ji said seriously. “As for cultivation level, waiting is better than rushing. Shortcuts sometimes become detours. Besides, a person lives one life, and plants live one autumn. As long as it’s a tree, its vitality has a fixed limit, and sooner or later it must face death.”

He Qing Qing thought to herself, the Sky-Supporting Tree isn’t an ordinary tree. Such a colossal entity supports heaven and earth, living as long as the sun and moon—how could it die?

Moreover, I’ve only taken a little juice, like taking a drop of water from the sea.

“I understand,” she put away the jade vial. “But Senior Brother Song, not everyone is like you…”

Song Qian Ji and He Qing Qing stood in place talking. The Academy scholars following behind were very anxious:

“Why did they stop? Is Senior Supervisor still walking forward?”

“Obviously! We’re walking openly and rightfully now. If we stop when they stop, that’s called stalking!”

“That makes sense! Oh no, we’re about to crash into them. Should our senior greet them?”

Before He Qing Qing could finish speaking, she saw the Qingya group: “I should go.”

“Take care,” Song Qian Ji said.

Zi Mo exclaimed happily, “Junior Sister He—no, Senior Sister He!”

They thought He Qing Qing would say something to them, or at least to Zi Ye Wen Shu.

Many in the Academy privately believed that since she had been rescued by the supervisor, she wouldn’t exist without Qingya. No matter how far she went in the future, she would still be the junior sister who came from Qingya.

But He Qing Qing merely nodded faintly.

Zi Ye Wen Shu nodded at the same time.

With no more words exchanged, the two passed each other.

Like fellow Daoists meeting by chance.

The overly enthusiastic smiles of the Qingya scholars froze on their faces, somewhat embarrassed.

Fortunately, Song Qian Ji took the initiative: “Fellow Daoist Zi Ye, everyone from Qingya, we meet again. What a coincidence!”

“Not a coincidence. I was following you,” Zi Ye Wen Shu said.

Jing Zhai and Zi Mo were internally screaming:

“Even if it’s true, Senior Brother shouldn’t say it out loud!”

“How is anyone supposed to respond to that? I can’t take this anymore. Someone dig me a hole in the ground!”

Song Qian Ji naturally continued: “Has Fellow Daoist Zi Ye considered it?”

The others couldn’t understand this question and were frozen in silence, but Zi Ye Wen Shu knew Song Qian Ji was asking about his previous request—whether he could inform him before each breakthrough, allowing him to prepare in advance.

He didn’t answer but asked instead: “How did you make the flowers bloom?”

Under Huawei Sect’s strongest Cloud Sea Formation, how did he manage to make flowers bloom in the snow without anyone noticing?

Not only Zi Ye Wen Shu couldn’t understand—the guests present and the hosts couldn’t figure it out either.

Only the Thousand Channels disciples were accustomed to this.

They felt that in Thousand Channels County, where it hadn’t rained for three years and the land was parched, Senior Brother Song could still wait for the rain to come.

Making a few flowers bloom was nothing.

Jing Zhai hurriedly explained: “What our Senior Supervisor means is, he wonders what magic Senior Official Song used…”

Before he could finish, Song Qian Ji said, “I know what you want to ask. There was no magic, and I didn’t tamper with the formation. I just negotiated with them last night. If they were willing to bloom, they would; if not, so be it. It’s always better when there’s willingness.”

The ancient pines were as old as Huawei Mountain, their root systems extending in all directions.

They transmitted messages, letting the Immortality Spring seep into the soil, and sharing it with other flowers and plants.

“I also didn’t harm anyone. At that time, the music and the formation were integrated as one. Breaking the music also broke the formation, so they were injured by the formation’s backlash, harming themselves.”

Zi Ye Wen Shu continued looking at him, his clear black and white eyes blinking.

Song Qian Ji lowered his head, tugging at the tassels of his ceremonial robe’s sleeve. “I’ve explained everything clearly. Don’t you believe me?”

Just now at Passing Water Bridge, he had deceived everyone with a potato flower from the jade box, probably leaving him with negative credibility in the other’s mind.

But Zi Ye Wen Shu solemnly said, “Thank you.”

What truly could reverse winter and spring wasn’t formations; what could unite people’s hearts wasn’t fear of power.

Just like the disciples following Song Qian Ji, the refugees and rogue cultivators who fled to Thousand Channels.

In this world, no matter how many difficulties and dangers, they fear only willingness.

However, knowing is easy, and doing is difficult. How many people can truly achieve this?

Zi Ye Wen Shu thought, that’s why the Calligraphy Saint gave “Spring Mountain Painting” to Song Qian Ji.

Song Qian Ji was delighted: “No need for thanks, as long as you can promise me…”

Before he could finish, the wind turned sharp, and a white shadow came howling!

Zi Ye Wen Shu instinctively grabbed his sword, but he quickly realized this wasn’t a hidden weapon.

The sword wind was too sharp; drawing the sword could easily harm bystanders, so he merely shifted his body to avoid it. The white shadow brushed past his ear, leaving a cool sensation.

Simultaneously, another white shadow came hurtling. Song Qian Ji casually waved his sleeve to strike it.

“Smack!” A snowball hit Zi Ye Wen Shu’s turned shoulder.

Song Qian Ji: “…I didn’t mean to.”

Turning around, white mist engulfed their faces, dazzling their eyes.

The Thousand Channels youths rushed past them like a hot wave.

Accompanied by shouts, laughter, running footsteps, and even some obscene language.

“Meng He Ze, you dog! Today if I don’t press you into the snow, I’m not your elder!” It was Lin Fei Yuan.

“Who used an ice block? Who the hell used an ice block to ambush me?” It was Ji Chen.

Snow accumulated on branches fell, shaken by laughter, covering Zi Ye Wen Shu’s head and shoulders.

Zi Ye Wen Shu was stunned.

He was a master of the Shadow Movement technique. If he wanted, he could dodge every snowflake without wetting a single corner of his clothes.

“These little brats!” Song Qian Ji laughed in exasperation, awkwardly extending his hand, wanting to dust the snow off the other.

“Fellow Daoists must be amused. They’re not usually like this. They’re just happy today, a bit carried away. Ahem, I didn’t teach them this.”

The Qingya scholars were shocked and speechless, completely dumbfounded.

“What are these people doing? It doesn’t look like ice games.”

“Don’t know. Their speech and behavior are crude, disrespectful, and presumptuous. How can they be cultivators? But they seem… very happy.”

Another white shadow flew toward them.

“Senior Brother Song, come join us!”

Song Qian Ji rolled up his ceremonial robe’s long sleeve, scooped up a snowball, and threw it back, shouting angrily: “Join what? Stop fooling around!”

In mid-air, energy surged, and snow dust flew, like a crystal rain drizzling down.

The youths burst into laughter, scattering in an instant like birds and beasts.

Song Qian Ji looked at Zi Ye Wen Shu covered in white snow and the shocked expressions of the Qingya scholars, and couldn’t help but sigh.

Success slipping away at the last moment. All because of the disgraceful bunch at home.

Then he heard the man say softly:

“I agree.”

…

“Brother Song, did we embarrass you just now?” Ji Chen asked softly. “When I get back, I’ll urge Wei Ping to write the latest question booklet and send it to those question-solvers, to make it up to them properly!”

“No need. Everyone performed exceptionally well,” Song Qian Ji was in a good mood, his steps light.

“Really?” Meng He Ze asked.

“Of course!” Song Qian Ji said confidently.

Lin Fei Yuan probed: “Are you sober yet?”

Song Qian Ji: “I was never drunk.”

They came prepared for battle but left with ease and joy.

The winter sun set early. After saying goodbye to the Qingya scholars, it was nearly dusk.

The Thousand Channels disciples walked out of the mountain gate and looked back. Huawei Mountain’s majestic palaces and halls glittered golden in the sunset, yet somehow felt cold.

“Did we leave so easily? On the way back, they won’t come looking for trouble, will they?”

“They haven’t even cleaned up their mess. How would they have time to make trouble for us?”

“Even if they want to deal with someone, they should first deal with the Wei family!”

“Ha, let them fight.”

Song Qian Ji smiled: “Let’s go shopping.”

The disciples let out a cheer.

Throughout Huawei City, everyone was discussing this morning’s events. Most storytellers were ordinary people and rogue cultivators who had come to watch the excitement.

Wei Zhan Yang who was wounded by a sword, Chen Hong Zhu who swore an oath to the Dao, and Song Qian Ji who surpassed Fairy Miao Yan and the Celestial Sound Gate disciples.

Enough for every tavern and teahouse to talk about for half a year.

Ji Chen went to pick out pearl flowers for his sister, and Meng He Ze went to buy pastries for his parents.

Amidst the scene of prosperity and celebration, a thought suddenly flashed through Lin Fei Yuan’s mind.

He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but this was an assassin’s occupational disease—if I were to kill Song Qian Ji again, I would choose this moment.

“What’s wrong?” Song Qian Ji asked.