Before Song Qian Ji could answer, Xian Jian Chen threw his head back and laughed: “Hahaha, that’s hilarious! What benefits would this Master need to offer when taking a disciple? This Master relies solely on his personal charm and peerless elegance to make people willingly bow and follow!”
Calligraphy Saint: “Hahaha, that’s hilarious! So there are old monsters who practice appearance-preserving techniques and become narcissistic. In this world, I only acknowledge that you, Xian Jian Chen, are more self-absorbed than I am!”
Chess Ghost: “Hahaha, that’s hilarious! This personal charm and peerless elegance you speak of, why has this old man never seen it? Perhaps it’s like your life-bound sword, forgotten at the edge of the continent?”
Sword Immortal: “Your illness has made your old eyes dim, so of course you can’t see it. This Master won’t blame you!”
They argued at lightning speed, ignoring everyone else. Xian Jian Chen fought enthusiastically against the two, while the Chess Ghost had the home-field advantage, and the Calligraphy Saint fanned the flames.
Song Qian Ji felt as if he had stepped from a serene, elegant flower valley bamboo house into a noisy, chaotic underground gambling den—and this gambling den seemed to have raised five hundred ducks, all quacking around him.
“Since the Song King has arrived, we’ll leave the Master in your care,” the people at the card table quietly stood up and approached Song Qian Ji to say goodbye. “We’ll take our leave first.”
“Fellows? Shopkeeper? What’s going on here?” Song Qian Ji had met them at the black shop and Hua Wei City, so he was somewhat acquainted with them.
The black shop people wore expressions that were hard to describe.
Thinking back, when Hua Wei first met Song Qian Ji, he was just a small outer disciple who traded his sword for a zither. Now, after just a few years, he had become the Thousand Canals King, famous throughout the world, with countless followers.
“Today, the Master suddenly had an interest in visiting the Chess Ghost. With the principal and supervisor guarding Green Cliff Academy, we closed our shops and accompanied the Master here, here…” Flower Shopkeeper coughed lightly, “Here… to play cards.”
Song Qian Ji looked around: “But they’re playing separate games.”
The Calligraphy Saint was playing domino cards, while the Chess Ghost was playing another card game.
Flower Shopkeeper said in a low voice: “They were playing together at first, but later almost got into a fight, so they had to play separately. We take turns accompanying them and serving as dealers. It’s truly unbearable. The Song King has arrived just in time.” He suddenly pushed a young attendant, “Call him!”
The attendant awkwardly called out “Song King.”
Song Qian Ji nodded: “The child has grown taller.”
“You’re not that much older than me,” Little Zhuo muttered but was pulled away by the shopkeeper.
The black shop people left in a flash, and the bamboo house gambling den was instantly empty.
A cool breeze blew in through the half-opened window, carrying the fragrance of flowers.
Chips, domino cards, and dice were scattered on the gambling table, bathed in the thin crimson light of dusk.
Song Qian Ji listened to the arguing but was attracted by the hydrangeas outside the window. Just as he was about to go closer to admire them, he heard Xian Jian Chen shout:
“There is only one sun in the sky! In this life, he has only one master, and that’s this Master!”
The Chess Ghost and Calligraphy Saint both looked at Song Qian Ji: “You tell us!”
Xian Jian Chen appeared confident on the surface but transmitted a death threat: “You know what to say!”
After thinking briefly, Song Qian Ji asked a question.
This question shocked the three powerful seniors so much that they couldn’t answer, causing a long silence in the bamboo house.
Song Qian Ji stepped forward and repeated: “In this season if the wheat is too green with small heads and can’t be harvested, how should it be remedied?”
Xian Jian Chen muttered: “My disciple has finally been driven mad by you all. You owe me a disciple!”
Chess Ghost: “Don’t try to frame us. I think he was driven mad by you.”
The Calligraphy Saint, learned and curious, asked: “The common saying is ‘spring sowing, autumn harvest.’ Why do you talk about harvesting wheat in summer?”
“Spring wheat is harvested in autumn, while winter wheat is harvested in summer,” Song Qian Ji smiled. “I’ve already taken many masters.”
The three were stunned, quite surprised.
“I have a keen sense for life energy and can care for a courtyard of flowers and plants, but the path of farming is endless. It was my master’s who taught me the farming experience passed down through generations. When to apply fertilizer, when to hoe weeds, which plants prefer shade, which crops crave sunshine… For a field to yield a good harvest, effort in cultivation alone is not enough—it also depends on whether the heavens grant good luck. The strength of a gust of wind, the timing of a rain cloud, the migration route of a flock of birds—all these can affect months or a year of hard work and determine the livelihood of ten thousand people.”
“I research seed fields and four-season greenhouses, cultivate superior varieties, and improve yields per acre. These things cannot be accomplished by me working alone in isolation, even if I possess the greatest treasures of heaven and earth. They rely on all my masters working diligently, not submitting to the whims of the seasons.”
“Your meaning…” Xian Jian Chen frowned. “This Master seems to understand.”
“I don’t quite understand,” the Chess Ghost asked. “Whom exactly does this young man follow as a master?”
The Calligraphy Saint sighed: “Whom does he follow? The thousands of Thousand Canals, the myriad things of heaven and earth! What they can teach you far exceeds what we old men can.”
Taking ancestors as teachers, taking the common people as teachers, taking heaven and earth as teachers.
Are master-disciple titles important to Song Qian Ji? Is sect honor important to him?
The answer is obvious. He can take anyone as his master, such as a farmer who only knows grafting.
But if he cannot learn anything from you, even if you are unrivaled under heaven and your swordsmanship is peerless, he won’t consider you his master.
Why be bound by sectarian views or obsessed with the glory of a particular school or sect?
Xian Jian Chen let out a light snort and turned his head away, refusing to look at Song Qian Ji.
The Calligraphy Saint suddenly clapped his hands: “This Master has heard that you saved the lives of my Green Cliff disciples in Blood River Valley and used the Spring Mountain Painting to suppress the chaos of Oblivion, saving countless lives.”
Song Qian Ji picked up the teapot from the gambling table, poured a cup of hot water, and bent down to offer it to him: “That is correct.”
In recent years, the Chess Ghost only drank plain water, and the bamboo house had no tea or snacks for guests.
The Calligraphy Saint took the bowl and sipped, but it was as if he had drunk divine nectar or the finest tea, his face beaming with joy as he said “good” three times:
“This Master is gratified!”
The Chess Ghost broke into a fit of coughing, breathing heavily.
Song Qian Ji stepped forward to pat his back.
The Chess Ghost said hoarsely: “This Master has also heard that the ‘Dragon Slaying Formation’ reappeared in Red River, killing a man-eating giant serpent. Was that a formation you commanded others to arrange?”
“Indeed,” Song Qian Ji offered water again.
“Excellent! You didn’t waste the formation manual this Master left for you! This Master is greatly comforted!”
Xian Jian Chen frowned, folded his arms across his chest, and made a teeth-grinding inhale, sourly saying: “Taking turns performing, what a show.”
Song Qian Ji ignored him: “I also used the Seven Absolute Zither in Blood River Valley.”
At the mention of the Seven Absolute Zither, the expressions of all three changed, revealing the unfathomable aura of elder powerhouses.
The bamboo house fell silent for a moment.
“This Master knows about this matter,” the Calligraphy Saint looked out the window. “When Wu Xiang was young, he believed that music without emotion cannot be beautiful. Only when the musician’s heart holds extremely intense love and hate can they play music with emotion? He taught this to his senior disciple, Jiang Yun, making her character extreme.
Later, to break through his bottleneck, he changed to cultivate the ‘Path of No Emotion,’ teaching his second disciple, Wang Shu, with heavenly principles and propriety. Wang Shu repressed herself everywhere, not daring to take a wrong step. These two disciples had romantic feelings for their master in their youth and strived to fulfill all his expectations. But Wu Xiang only loved his zither and couldn’t see living people. After Wang Shu and Jiang Yun’s hearts died, they confronted each other in magical combat, each taking disciples, reaching a situation of mortal enmity.
“Wu Xiang owed his disciples his entire life, treating them as experiments on his path of seeking the Dao. In the end, he died because of his disciples’ rebellion, and after his death, the sect split into pieces. Who else can he blame? It’s karma!”
The Chess Ghost interrupted him: “Why speak of such things in front of the young one?”
“You and I are now useless bodies. Do you still fear the word ‘death’?”
“What do I fear? It’s this young man who has never taken disciples. I’m afraid of frightening him!”
As they spoke of the Zither Immortal, only Xian Jian Chen remained silent, as cold as when he visited Thousand Canals at night.
Song Qian Ji smiled bitterly, thinking that although he had never taken disciples, he had already experienced the difficulties of being a master and a father.
“Seniors, is there any wish that this junior can fulfill?” he asked.
The Chess Ghost’s eyes lit up: “Eastern Province cards and Western Province mahjong—which do you know?”
Song Qian Ji was taken aback: “Neither.”
Calligraphy Saint: “How are you at playing big dominoes or small dominoes?”
“That… I don’t know either.”
“How about backgammon?”
“Still… don’t know.”
The Chess Ghost was pained: “Song Qian Ji, you are unworthy of being the Thousand Canals King!”
Xian Jian Chen suddenly spoke: “Why not play ‘Ascension Chess’?”
Song Qian Ji: “I’ve never played it.”
“It’s very simple!” The Chess Ghost opened a wooden box and took out a large, colorful paper that looked like a map, a die, and chess pieces in red, orange, yellow, and green.
The three quickly chose their chess pieces, leaving Song Qian Ji with the red ones, feeling bewildered.
Chess Ghost: “No need to learn, you’ll know once you start. I’ll roll the dice first. Three, I move three spaces. Good luck! I’ve reached the Foundation Establishment Level Three in this space! Take three hundred spirit stones as a reward.”
He took out three pieces of paper from the wooden box, each with “one hundred” written on it.
The Calligraphy Saint rolled a five. Xian Jian Chen rolled a six, moving the farthest.
Song Qian Ji began to understand.
This colorful paper was a cultivator’s cultivation journey.
Some spaces had spirit stones drawn on them, others had traps. Landing on them allowed you to choose whether to hoard land, dig spirit stone mines, or you might be unlucky and land in a dark trap space, instantly becoming penniless.
In the later stages, having many spirit stones allowed you to spend money to rapidly increase cultivation, while those without money could only follow the dice step by step.
“If no one cheats, isn’t this just gambling on luck?” Song Qian Ji found it amusing.
With their sensitivity to spiritual energy fluctuations, if one person cheated with the dice, the other three would surely sense it.
“When luck comes, rely on luck. When luck is absent, rely on strategy. Look, I landed here. I can choose to take five hundred spirit stones or make someone move back three spaces.” The Chess Ghost didn’t hesitate, “I choose Xian Jian Chen!”
Xian Jian Chen: “Are you sick?”
Chess Ghost: “I’ve been sick for a long time. Is this your first day knowing?”
Calligraphy Saint: “I move four steps. Hey, what does this space say? Each player at the table gives me one hundred spirit stones, haha! Why are you still dazed? Pay up!”
The small bamboo house was in chaos, more lively than the New Year celebration.
The three sabotaged each other, hindering one another’s progress. Song Qian Ji honestly rolled the dice, hoarded land, earned resources, and cultivated. Starting late but finishing early, after ten rounds he had traveled through most of the map and was about to reach the end, completing his merit and “ascending.”
Xian Jian Chen jumped up: “There’s something wrong with this dice. This Master doesn’t have the best luck! Impossible!”
At this point, Song Qian Ji owned the most land and wealth. He could sell his land to make a huge profit, then use the money to move ten steps at once and ascend directly.
But he didn’t sell the land; instead, he used his money to reclaim more. As a result, his land kept increasing, and so did his money.
The Chess Ghost was speechless: “How did you turn Ascension Chess into Land Reclamation Chess?”
The Calligraphy Saint frantically hinted: “You can lend me money now, and after I ascend to the upper realm, I’ll work to pay you back.”
Sword Immortal: “Don’t listen to his nonsense. This old fellow is taking advantage of your ignorance. In this game, the first to ascend is the winner! The last one is the loser!”
But Song Qian Ji said: “I can lend money, but exchange it for land.”
They continued playing, with Song Qian Ji helping the three ascend while he remained behind—occupying all the land on the map!
After Xian Jian Chen celebrated his victory, he vaguely felt something was wrong.
In a game with three ascending winners, all had to work to repay the lone loser.
Xian Jian Chen broke down: “What are you going to do with so much land?!”
Song Qian Ji softly defended himself: “…nothing really, I just couldn’t help it.”
The Calligraphy Saint chuckled twice and stretched lazily: “We came in high spirits and left satisfied.”
No lamps had been lit in the bamboo house. The last rays of the sunset disappeared, and the moon quietly climbed over the mountaintop.
The Chess Ghost rubbed his somewhat blurry eyes: “It’s dark now.”
Even the most magnificent and grand sunset will eventually sink into rivers, and the sky will always darken.
The Chess Ghost tapped on the Ascension Chess map: “Young Song, we have all left, and you have taken so much land. This mortal world is now entrusted to you.”
Song Qian Ji suddenly said: “Since you’ve chosen me, why not kill a few people for me, giving me their luck and legacies?”
“Are you mad?” “Impossible!” the Calligraphy Saint and Chess Ghost said in unison, shocked expressions on their faces.
“I was joking,” Song Qian Ji smiled.
Xian Jian Chen thought briefly, then transmitted to Song Qian Ji: “In the secret realm, you were provoked by Wu Xiang and developed a knot in your heart. This Master has brought you to meet old friends to untie this knot. Won’t you thank your Master? Won’t you quickly bring a bowl of water for your Master too?”
Water-serving Master Song Qian Ji smiled on the surface but transmitted back: “In the next life, perhaps.”
Xian Jian Chen gritted his teeth: “It’s dark, we should be on our way. Stop dawdling!”
The Calligraphy Saint said to Xian Jian Chen: “Don’t bully my disciple on the road.”
The Chess Ghost said to Song Qian Ji: “The night is dark, the road is slippery. If there’s a fight, let the elder go first. If he can’t win, you run quickly.”
Xian Jian Chen stormed out angrily. Song Qian Ji bid farewell to the Calligraphy Saint and Chess Ghost.
As he left the bamboo house, he heard the urgent sound of shuffling cards from inside.
“Goodbye,” Song Qian Ji looked back once.
It was the same mountain path as before, with Li Ying seeing them off.
The night was falling, and the stars were bright.
The evening breeze gently rustled the flower clusters, spreading a warm fragrance.
Li Ying lowered her head: “Senior Brother Song, stay here to recover from your wounds. Even if the Hua Wei Sect comes, they won’t dare start a war directly. We can delay for a while, and I have many methods…”
Song Qian Ji just looked at her kindly, and her voice got lower and lower until she couldn’t continue.
Li Ying suddenly choked up: “I know you must leave. When you wrote poetry on Star-Picking Terrace to cheer me up, I was very grateful. Looking back, that was the happiest time of my life… I’m not as brave as Miss Chen to venture out, nor as daring as Immortal He to fight. I seem a bit useless.”
The last three words of the hero’s invitation remained a mystery in the cultivation world.
Whatever you think in your heart or desire, you can fill in those words. Ten million people have ten million ways to fill them.
Only Li Ying kept the words “plant potatoes” to herself, telling no one.
“Your life has just begun. If things aren’t going well for a while, wait a while longer. Every flower has its season; there’s no need to compare it with others. Immortal Li, you’ve grown up. In this world, both suffering and joy must include your share,” Song Qian Ji smiled. “Besides, Immortal Li is the most formidable chess-playing immortal I’ve ever seen. You’ll be able to beat me in the future.”
Li Ying was surprised: “Do you think so?”
“Of course.”
Li Ying’s almond eyes were red, with tears hanging on her eyelashes. She nodded vigorously: “I’ll work hard.”
“Hey! Are you leaving or not? Are you leaving or not? Should I light some wedding candles and arrange some fresh flowers for you?” Xian Jian Chen shouted.
The melancholic atmosphere disappeared completely.
Li Ying blushed and spoke no more, her footsteps quickening.
…
As soon as they left the no-flying zone of Purple Cloud Mountain, Song Qian Ji mounted his Shadowless Sword, carrying Xian Jian Chen westward.
“On such a brilliant starry night, flying so fast, aren’t you wasting the beautiful scenery and fine evening?” Xian Jian Chen sat swinging his legs.
Song Qian Ji didn’t answer.
He had said all he wanted to say at Purple Cloud Temple and now was too lazy to utter a single word.
As the night deepened, the stars grew brighter, and Song Qian Ji’s expression became more solemn.
As they traveled westward, the clean, humid air gradually became dry. Rolling sand mixed with the wind, pattering against the spiritual energy shield Song Qian Ji had raised.
Eight hundred miles west of Purple Cloud Mountain lay a desert.
Because the dunes moved ceaselessly, resembling a rushing river, people called it the Flowing Sand River.
Song Qian Ji flew over such a river, with no one around for miles. All he could hear was the wind moaning like ghost cries and wolf howls.
“You won’t be able to fly out,” Xian Jian Chen suddenly said. “Save your strength.”
Song Qian Ji looked up at the Milky Way, his face as calm as water: “Shut up!”
He controlled his sword with rapid speed, his clothes already soaked through at the back.
In the desolate night wind, another voice suddenly rang out: “Your master is right.”
This voice was old and weak, yet it pierced through the howling wind, clearly reaching Song Qian Ji’s ears.
There was no human figure visible in the Flowing Sand River, and not a single silhouette before, behind, or to the sides of the Shadowless Sword.
The voice came from the Milky Way overhead.
Through the floating clouds, Song Qian Ji saw the countless stars tremble, then rapidly enlarge, converge, and approach.
It was as if the entire Milky Way was crashing down upon him.
“Elder Zhao’s Starry River Curtain, haven’t seen it for a long time,” Xian Jian Chen stood up on the flying sword, greeting loudly.
Song Qian Ji stopped his sword and saw those “stars.”
The stars hung outside the sky wall, and the bright spots were certainly not real stars but Elder Zhao’s life-bound magical treasure.
This set of treasures consisted of 368 meteorite fragments, controlled and connected by an invisible force.
From the moment they left Purple Cloud Temple, these “stars” had formed an encirclement, following them to the Flowing Sand River.
“Oh, here we go again,” Song Qian Ji murmured.
Xian Jian Chen: “Why did you say ‘again’? You’ve never seen this before.”
Song Qian Ji thought to himself that in his previous life, when the Zhao family used this set of treasures to encircle him, the family had already declined, and Elder Zhao had been outlived by him.
The person manipulating the treasure couldn’t exert its full power, allowing him to kill his way out.
But now, the half-step Nascent Soul Elder was still alive, and the Starry River Curtain deployed was truly like a magnificent river of stars!
The old voice sounded again: “The Sword Immortal still remembers this old one.”
He only spoke to Xian Jian Chen, ignoring Song Qian Ji as if he didn’t consider him worth noticing.
Xian Jian Chen smiled: “It’s nothing, we’re old acquaintances. You’re too polite to personally send me off. Just let me pass through quickly.”
“Xian Jian Chen! Fifty years ago, I had just broken through to half-step Nascent Soul, my realm unstable, and you severely injured me! You made it impossible for me to enter the true Nascent Soul realm in this life. You cut off my immortal path, severed my ascension way. Have you ever thought that one day you would fall into my hands!”
The angry shouts echoed repeatedly, and countless “star particles” trembled together.
A small, thin, grim-looking old man slowly descended from above, hovering twenty zhang away from them.
He stood on the largest and brightest “star” in the Starry River Curtain.
Xian Jian Chen waved repeatedly: “This can’t be blamed on me! How did you get that half-step Nascent Soul? You know very well in your heart! Besides, if I had known about today, I would have split you in half with one sword fifty years ago!”
Song Qian Ji listened and felt fortunate that he wasn’t Elder Zhao or this troublemaker would have angered him to death.
He roared: “Why waste more words? Where’s your sword?”
As soon as the words fell, the surrounding meteorite fragments flickered with eerie blue fire, rapidly striking toward him.
An extremely cold aura climbed up Song Qian Ji’s back.
“Now it’s your sword,” Xian Jian Chen waved his sleeve, and a flash of lightning passed by.
Song Qian Ji raised his hand to catch the sword, his palm burning like fire, instantly feeling warmth.
This sword was the opposite of the Shadowless Sword, with a broad and heavy blade.
He controlled the Shadowless Sword to fly rapidly while holding the sword to defend.
But then he heard Xian Jian Chen say: “This sword is named Spring Autumn, and it has been with me for a hundred years. Spring Autumn is a king’s sword, specialized in killing petty villains and countering evil instruments. Years ago, your Master used this sword to trap this old scoundrel forever in half-step Nascent Soul!”
“Only with the heart of a king can one wield the sword of a king. Holding this sword, you must not be hasty.”
As he spoke, he stood with his hands behind his back, showing no intention of helping.
Elder Zhao threw his head back and laughed: “Xian Jian Chen, how arrogant and ruthless you were back then, but now you can only hide behind your disciple!”
The Starry River Curtain’s attacks grew more intense. Song Qian Ji was in grave danger and had no time to quarrel with Xian Jian Chen, so he could only listen to him.
“The sword formula for the Spring Autumn sword consists of sixty-eight characters. This Master will only say it once, and you need to remember it firmly. First, focus your intent…”
“Can’t you speak faster?”
Song Qian Ji held the Spring Autumn sword, fighting fiercely with the powerful enemy, while behind him, Xian Jian Chen spoke neither too fast nor too slow.
One urgent, one leisurely, internally and externally abnormal, the sword formula was engraved into his heart character by character.
The Spring Autumn sword emitted a deep, rich sword hum, and its momentum became smoother.
Song Qian Ji integrated his sword techniques from his previous and current lives, descending like a heavenly god.
A path was truly cut through the Starry River Curtain.
Xian Jian Chen laughed: “After fifty years, you can’t even stop my disciple. What reason do you have to live in this life!”
A miserable howl was heard as the old man spat out a mist of blood.
The Starry River Curtain was stained with fresh blood, erupting in crimson light.
Song Qian Ji couldn’t dodge in time and was struck in the chest by a fragment, instantly vomiting black blood.
He felt extreme coldness, with only the Spring Autumn sword in his hand emitting heat.
Xian Jian Chen stood by, watching him grip the heavy Spring Autumn sword tightly, continuing to break through westward.
That spring-autumn sword seemed to become part of his right hand, tamed by his firm will!
“Where are your other seven swords? Why don’t you take them out? What are you waiting for?” After who knows how long, the Shadowless Sword shook violently, and Song Qian Ji’s spiritual energy was nearly exhausted.
“Waiting for snow. Look, the wind is rising,” Xian Jian Chen said.
“Have you lost your mind?”
How could it snow in summer? How could it snow in the Flowing Sand River?
Song Qian Ji could only continue fighting when suddenly he felt a coolness on his face.
A rain cloud drifted over, hanging in the sky above Song Qian Ji’s head.
This cloud was higher and larger than the Starry River Curtain in all directions.
Elder Zhao’s face turned pale: “Impossible!”
Without thunder, the fierce wind blew through the dark clouds, and snow began to fall.
The Flowing Sand River experienced its first snowfall in a hundred years.
Each snowflake was a talisman.
The snow curtain flew up, covering the area from Purple Cloud Mountain, forming a massive formation that reached from heaven to earth.
The powerful formation force combined with the talisman force, fills heaven and earth.
The Starry River Curtain trembled uncontrollably.
The eerie blue flames were extinguished by snowflakes, falling from the sky, leaving trails of blue smoke.
Song Qian Ji bathed in the light snow, his mind instantly clear.
He had already realized what was happening, and his expression was worse than Elder Zhao’s.
“This snowfall is their way of seeing you off one last time,” Xian Jian Chen said.
Song Qian Ji stood holding his sword, his sleeves fluttering.
Snowflakes fell into the Flowing Sand River, making rustling sounds, turning into words of farewell.
Whether it’s the hegemony of Spring and Autumn or the path of a king, it must always be bid farewell by those who came before.
The Starry River Curtain was severely damaged. Elder Zhao recalled the remaining fragments, tightly guarding his body, trying to break out of the snow’s range.
“You won’t be able to fly out,” Song Qian Ji said. “Save your strength.”
The dim Spring Autumn sword shone brilliantly, illuminating half the sky.