Since his rebirth, Song Qian Ji had devoted his thoughts only to fields and gardens.

With few worries and desires, a thousand days passed like one, fading like clouds and smoke in the blink of an eye.

But last night had been an exceptionally long night for him.

He had submitted two absurd examination papers with Ji Chen, then went to watch the chess trial at Fengyanggu, guiding Ji Chen into the path of chess.

Afterward, he went to Qingshitan to listen to music, drank some fruit wine after listening, and then ran to the mountain pavilion to play chess and write poetry, making a drunken fool of himself.

When this person said they had met before, it wasn’t entirely accurate. The Zither Immortal had been in the pavilion, separated from him by a sea of people and a pool of water. He couldn’t see who was in the pavilion, only heard the other person commenting on the zither piece—”Achievements for ages, a hero’s final road.”

This made Song Qian Ji feel genuinely embarrassed.

But the other showed no embarrassment, his gaze sweeping around the small courtyard. Seeing only a lounging chair under the flower trellis, he walked straight over and sat down.

He patted the cushion, leaned back, and adjusted to the most comfortable position.

This was the reaction of someone accustomed to high positions; no matter where he was, it seemed he was born to sit while others stood.

Song Qian Ji’s heart tightened. That’s my chair!

Not only did the Zither Immortal sit in his chair, but he also casually grabbed a hanging strand of wisteria, admiring it while smiling:

“Among all famous pieces throughout history, ‘Wind and Snow Battle March’ could rank in the top ten. I spent all night wondering who could compose such a piece.”

His manner was just like the lord of the small courtyard.

The wisteria trembled slightly, not daring to sway with the wind.

Song Qian Ji was startled, like a cat whose scruff had been grabbed by a stranger. He immediately stepped out from under the eaves, directly facing the other:

“If you’ve come for this, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.” He gently pulled the wisteria strand from the other’s palm, soothingly stroking it. “This piece was taught to me by a predecessor whom I met by chance!”

Song Qian Ji had prepared a story.

This story had been told in Qiankun Hall before when the audience was Huawei Sect’s Master Xu Yun, the True Immortal. He was now confident and only needed to fill in some details.

Before he could speak, he heard the Zither Immortal approvingly say: “You’re honest! I already know.”

Song Qian Ji blinked, suddenly feeling confused.

What exactly do you know?

The Zither Immortal smiled: “The Celestial Sound Gate often deals with Huawei Sect. I understand that young Xu Yun’s personality…”

With his beautiful appearance and refined features, he referred to the elderly Xu Yun as “that young one,” which sounded quite discordant at first hearing. “Your cultivation is low, and you’re of mortal birth, yet you’ve turned the outer court of Huawei Sect upside down. Without a powerful backer, Xu Yun would have erased you with a wave of his hand long ago. How could you be peacefully tending to flowers?”

Song Qian Ji thought, this is bad, I never considered this angle!

But in the eyes of a powerful person familiar with Xu Yun and Huawei Sect, this would indeed be the conclusion.

With the other suddenly changing the script, he couldn’t catch up and could only continue listening.

“After last night, He Qingqing took you as her master, Ziwu Wenshu had a breakthrough, and countless young people benefited together. The Celestial Sound Gate has a senior sister, and Qingya Academy has the strongest talent among young cultivators. This piece has shaken the cultivation world, its fame resounding across the four seas. Whoever finds the composer, regardless of who they are, will surely gain fame and rise rapidly. That you can tell me the truth without hesitation in such circumstances is indeed commendable…”

Song Qian Ji sensed something was wrong and quickly said: “That’s because this junior knew I couldn’t hide it from you, so I had no choice but to tell the truth.”

The Zither Immortal seemed not to hear, or didn’t believe his denial, and only asked: “Who taught you this piece?”

Song Qian Ji didn’t bother making up someone else: “It was Elder Xian Jian Chen!”

The name that no peak master or elder of Huawei Sect dared mention rolled off his tongue with ease as if it were true.

“Oh?” The Zither Immortal’s unchanging faint smile froze for a moment.

Then he closed his eyes.

Song Qian Ji thought, surely these two don’t have a grudge? There was nothing like that in his memory, otherwise he wouldn’t have invoked this tiger’s skin and brought trouble upon himself.

If they truly had a grudge, go settle accounts with him—it has nothing to do with me or my vegetable garden.

The Zither Immortal opened his eyes and suddenly began to laugh.

This smile was different from his previous calm one; his eyes curved as he laughed, slapping the armrest of the lounge chair:

“Xian Jian Chen is solitary and proud, considering himself above all else except the sword. He views all Dao paths other than the sword as ‘minor ways’ and never deigns to study them. I never imagined he would secretly record zither music and pass it on to posterity!”

Song Qian Ji felt even more embarrassed, silently apologizing to the proud Sword God.

“Xian Jian Chen has no family or relatives and never takes disciples. Since you can be his disciple, you must have something extraordinary about you,” said the Zither Immortal.

Song Qian Ji: “I’m hardly a disciple. The old master happened to be in high spirits and casually imparted knowledge.”

“Yet you could learn what he taught casually, which shows you have good comprehension.”

Song Qian Ji pushed back again: “This junior is dull and clumsy, grasping less than one ten-thousandth of his teachings!”

“How is Xian Jian Chen these days?”

“We only met once, never again.”

Just as Song Qian Ji thought these two might be old friends, the Zither Immortal sighed: “He’s not dead yet, what a pity.”

Song Qian Ji was shocked.

The Zither Immortal sighed again: “Not only is he not dead, but he also has a successor. What a shame. He’s the first among us four to have a disciple.”

He stared at Song Qian Ji for a while, his expression enigmatic, as if trying to see another shadow, then suddenly said:

“He taught you things but never kept you by his side to guide you, so you can’t be considered master and disciple. Would you like to learn my zither techniques?”

Song Qian Ji’s heart sank. Where did this come from?

“Elder, you honor me too much. This disciple has no interest in the path of music.”

The Zither Immortal stood up from the lounge chair and stepped forward: “Come back with me to Celestial Sound Gate. You’ll be second only to one and above ten thousand others, with endless cultivation resources. Opportunities missed won’t come again. Are you truly not interested?”

At this moment, Song Qian Ji felt as if a great mountain was pressing toward him.

He gritted his teeth and said: “No!”

The Zither Immortal asked earnestly: “I insist on having Xian Jian Chen’s disciple play my zither. What do you say to that?”

He wanted to take him as a disciple, yet threw the question to the other person—such tyranny.

Song Qian Ji pointed to a cucumber vine, stating the simplest truth in the world: “A forced melon is never sweet!”

The Zither Immortal changed tactics again: “You’re trapped in this small courtyard, like a dragon dying in shallow waters. What future do you have?”

“No need to worry, I’m going down the mountain soon.” Song Qian Ji smiled, feeling somewhat proud. “I’m about to receive a mortal territory.”

The Zither Immortal was confused. The mortal realm had sparse spiritual energy, far inferior to various immortal sects and noble families.

He asked: “What will you do there?”

Song Qian Ji’s eyes brightened: “Farming!”

When he had first been reborn, he hadn’t declared this so confidently and loudly.

Because the fifteen-year-old Song Qian Ji had been a diligent and hardworking sword cultivator. Such a sudden change overnight would easily raise suspicions of “soul possession.”

But now, gradually, the entire outer court had become accustomed to it, finding nothing strange, so he could resolutely declare it.

Farming means farming, and no one could hinder his farming!

The Zither Immortal was stunned.

This answer was truly unexpected.

Even with his vast experience, he had never encountered such a response.

He looked around the small courtyard again, reassessing the vegetables on the ground, the fresh flowers on the trellis, the green vines on the wall, feeling the unique vitality and spirit:

“Is this your Dao?”

“No,” Song Qian Ji shook his head. “Why must everything be done with force, everything seeking the Dao?”

Hearing these words, the Zither Immortal knew there was no turning back.

This junior couldn’t be killed, nor could he be taken as a disciple, leaving him helpless.

Like wisteria in the wind, there’s no way to stop flowers from falling.

Just as he was about to speak, his heart stirred: someone was rapidly approaching.

The newcomer was no weaker than himself, even posing a threat to him—a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

No, not just one person, but two!

He pondered for a moment, seeming to calculate something.

Before long, he restored his faint smile and said to Song Qian Ji:

“Meeting you is fate. Let me give you a gift.”

“I won’t accept gifts without merit.” Song Qian Ji shook his head.

The Zither Immortal took out a small wooden boat from his sleeve.

The boat was radiant all over, its deck seemingly laid with phoenix wood, its railings carved like white jade. Exquisitely crafted, it rested quietly in his palm.

“This is a flying magical artifact. Though it’s not valuable, it can travel a thousand miles a day. If you don’t accept it, how will you transport these plants to your territory?” The Zither Immortal lamented, “After long, bumpy journeys, even the most beautiful flowers will wither.”

Song Qian Ji thought this made sense. He didn’t fear hardship, but plants were delicate.

If it was just a flying artifact, it indeed wasn’t particularly valuable.

“Then I’ll give you something in return,” he said.

There were only three potato flowers left in the field.

Light purple, light blue, and pure white. He casually picked one.

The Zither Immortal pinned the light purple potato flower to the front of his dark robe and strolled out.

Like a victor wearing his medal.

All the outer court disciples had gathered at the main peak square to support Meng He Ze in his final martial trial.

The entire outer court was empty and quiet.

Outside Song’s courtyard was a small path lined with flowers. In late spring, fallen petals covered the ground, with butterflies fluttering all the way.

However, he didn’t take this path. His sleeves fluttered lightly, a breeze arose without cause, lifting him, and he floated into the clouds.

The Zither Immortal stood atop the clouds, waiting quietly.

Winds stirred, clouds surged, and sunlight blazed.

An elder in black came from the East, and an elder in white came from the West.

Above Song’s courtyard, the Chess Demon and Writing Saint saw each other, their faces gloomy. Upon seeing the Zither Immortal, their expressions changed slightly.

“Why are you here?” asked the Chess Demon.

The Zither Immortal smiled: “Why you’ve come, that’s why I’m here.”

“Impossible!” the Writing Saint said coldly. “Don’t be delusional!”

The Chess Demon thought, one passionate soul is troublesome enough, and now another comes?

What exactly has this young Song Qian Ji learned?!

The Writing Saint thought, if I had known the Fake Zither Immortal would come to steal the opportunity, why would I have wasted time with that old ghost on Xingzhai Terrace?

The Zither Immortal smiled: “It’s been a long time since we met. I still maintain the appearance of my prime years, while you two have grown old. The Heavenly Dao is merciless, just like the mysterious opportunities for making disciples. How regrettable.”

The Writing Saint said to the Chess Demon: “I’ve heard that only unmarried young ladies care about their appearance, fearing their husbands’ disdain.”

The Chess Demon laughed loudly: “Ha! Maintaining a false immortal face when in fact you’re just an undying monster—how ridiculous!”

The two had been at each other’s throats earlier, wishing the other dead.

Meeting again, they had formed a united front against a common enemy.

The three looked at each other with disgust, yet couldn’t fight, only insulting each other viciously like market fishwives.

The Zither Immortal was at a disadvantage against the two but showed no anger. Instead, he sincerely advised:

“He has already accepted my zither. You have no chance now, go back.”

The two were stunned.

The Writing Saint gritted his teeth, enunciating each word: “I don’t believe it.”

The Zither Immortal pointed to his lapel: “This flower is proof. Song Qian Ji planted it himself, protecting it day and night. Seeing his sincerity, I accepted this inexpensive discipleship gift. I didn’t want to say more, but I couldn’t bear to see you two, at your age, coming to humiliate yourselves.”

Knowing well that excess is as bad as a deficiency, he expressed himself lightly for greater credibility. With a faint smile, he rode the clouds away.

Leaving only the fluttering dark robes and flying black hair in his wake.

The remaining two, their expressions changing from anger to defeat, were speechless for a long while.

They had been standing in line on the clouds, holding numbered tickets for taking a discipline.

The flowing clouds hurried by, urging a decision.

“I still don’t believe it!” the Chess Demon finally said.

…

After holding the treasure boat for a moment, Song Qian Ji sensed something was wrong.

He infused spiritual energy into it, and the boat suddenly transformed: the cabin rose, becoming a zither body. The white railings on both sides converged toward the middle, turning into zither strings.

Revealing its true form, its extraordinary nature became apparent. Golden light shone brilliantly, and a great spiritual pressure burst forth!

This was a dual-purpose magical artifact, capable of both flying to the clouds and playing music.

Isn’t this redundant?

What use do I have for a famous zither?

Suddenly, he realized something.

The Zither Immortal had tricked him!

He hadn’t given up on the neurotic idea of making “the Sword God’s disciple play the zither”!

He had been pretending all along!

In my previous life, as a lone cultivator from humble origins, after advancing to the Fusion Stage, I considered myself too dignified to trick others.

How can you, with your immortal appearance, do such an underhanded thing?

Song Qian Ji took a deep breath.

Xian Jian Chen’s name might intimidate the Huawei Sect’s peak masters, but it was hard to move smoothly among peers of equal status.

At this moment, he deeply missed Master Xu Yun. Playing along with him had been so comfortable.

He placed the “treasure boat” on the stone table.

Chen Hongzhu moved too slowly. A night had passed, and still no news had come.

A mortal prefecture wasn’t like asking for a spirit stone vein mine.

Can’t rely on others—going down the mountain to farm depends on oneself.

He pushed open the door and headed straight for Qiankun Hall on the main peak.

Master Xu Yun, in this world of cunning and deceitful powerful beings, who are two-faced, only you are reliable!

Only you are reliable!