Song Qian Ji laughed inwardly. Elder Xian, thank you, you truly deserve to be the master of the savior.

Now that you’ve cursed him and vented your anger, shouldn’t you each return home?

The Chess Demon still insisted: “You only accept the Fake Zither Immortal’s Seven String Zither but not my array manual. Doesn’t that suggest my things are inferior to his?”

The Writing Saint also said: “It’s fine if you don’t accept the array manually, but Huachun Mountain is a real mountain peak.”

“I’m busy in the fields all day. Keeping these in my possession would only be like pearls gathering dust,” Song Qian Ji looked at the treasure box and chess record. “Treasures have spirits. They deserve better homes.”

Clear sunlight filtered through the wisteria trellis, illuminating the gentle smile in his eyes.

He thought, years later, when you meet Wei Zhen Yu, you’ll regret giving these to me.

Seeing his bright eyes looking tenderly even at inanimate objects, seemingly full of affection, the Writing Saint felt he was even more like himself in his youth.

Under heaven, perhaps no one was more suitable as a successor than Song Qian Ji. Xian Jian Chen, you truly have great fortune. Even if you’re reborn as a pig or dog in your next life, you still couldn’t repay it.

“You’re going down the mountain, but what about all these flowers and plants in your courtyard?” the Writing Saint asked.

“Naturally, I’ll take them all,” Song Qian Ji replied without hesitation. “I can’t bear to leave them.”

“What will you use to carry them? A storage pouch?” the Writing Saint patiently guided. “Storage pouches have no spiritual energy. Plants separated from soil lose vitality. But if placed in the treasure box, when you release them at your territory, they will still be fresh and tender…”

Song Qian Ji was tempted.

The Chess Demon was unwilling to be outdone: “The mortal realm lacks spiritual energy, and harvests depend on the weather. If you learn some array techniques, you can maintain a constant temperature in your vegetable garden year-round, allowing for off-season planting…”

He had never imagined before that he would seriously discuss farming with someone.

This was completely unfamiliar territory for him, and he feared he couldn’t convince Song Qian Ji.

Song Qian Ji considered: “That makes sense.”

He was still in the exploratory stage of farming. Cultivation was a profound discipline—success on the mountain didn’t guarantee success in the mortal realm.

“I’ll temporarily keep the treasures. When the elders find suitable successors, they can reclaim them from me at any time,” Song Qian Ji said. “I’ll also give both of you something.”

Only two potato flowers remained in the field, which he gently picked.

The potato flowers from Song’s courtyard had been given to confused youths like Meng He Ze and timid girls like He Qingqing, as well as unparalleled powerful figures like the Zither Immortal, Chess Demon, and Writing Saint.

A single flower conveyed countless emotions.

“I prefer white flowers,” the Writing Saint said.

He had received the light blue one, while the white flower was in the Chess Demon’s hand.

“Let’s exchange,” the Chess Demon said.

If Song Qian Ji had chosen one of them, the other would never have yielded, using every means possible to continue the battle.

But Song Qian Ji had chosen neither, and now when the two looked at each other, they recognized a mutual sense of regret and acceptance.

Who can have perfect completion in life?

Like the incomplete poem written on the table, the unfinished melody, and regret make things real.

The Writing Saint pinned the light blue potato flower to the Chess Demon’s lapel: “Year Entry Spirit, don’t die too early. Living a couple more years would be good.”

Chess had nine ranks, with the highest named “Entry Spirit.” The Chess Demon’s secular surname was Year, and he had once been the cultivation world’s youngest and most talented Entry Spirit level chess player, earning this elegant title. He had used this name to challenge others everywhere, defeating many powerful elders and solving many unsolvable endgames.

Later, he became an elder, and naturally, no one called him by that name anymore.

The Chess Demon inserted the white potato flower into his hair bun: “Passionate One, you should also die a bit later.”

“Passionate One” was the Writing Saint’s nickname in his youth. Using this name, he pursued many beauties and wrote many misleading books, such as “Overseas Cultivator’s Anti-Fraud Manual” and similar works.

These had now become obscure historical anecdotes. To maintain his imposing image, the Academy forbade anyone from mentioning them.

With the matter of a successor resolved, a great weight was lifted from their hearts. They both knew they no longer needed to keep up appearances, yet they still wished to encourage each other.

The two looked at each other and smiled.

For a moment, they returned to the old days, vaguely seeing each other’s youthful appearance with flowers in their hair.

Song Qian Ji stood by the vermilion door, watching the two ride the wind into the clouds, heading in opposite directions.

…

“Senior Brother Song, you’re watching the clouds!”

After an unknown amount of time, a familiar voice interrupted Song Qian Ji’s drifting thoughts.

Azure clouds stretched across the sky, and the sun’s shadow had moved westward.

Song Qian Ji withdrew his gaze as outer court disciples, led by Meng He Ze, surrounded him.

Today, for the stage effect, Meng He Ze had changed into a deep red outfit.

The young man had tied his hair in a high ponytail, his eyes like stars, his expression spirited, with a faint smell of blood and medicine in his breath.

“Are you finished?” Song Qian Ji asked.

Meng He Ze nodded proudly, coughed lightly, and nodded to indicate those on both sides.

Immediately, an outer court disciple loudly proclaimed: “The most popular performance trial champion in history—”

Another followed: “Support votes exceeding the second place by a thousand—”

Zhou Xiaoyun summarized: “All martial trial prizes in his possession, magic artifacts, pills, and spirit stones complete. Eight great immortal sects and six great families vying to invite the champion to become an inner court disciple.”

Cheers and applause erupted like thunder: “Senior Brother Meng is invincible!”

Meng He Ze raised both hands, pressing down slightly: “Must be modest, modest.”

The cheers subsided together, and Meng He Ze looked expectantly at Song Qian Ji.

Song Qian Ji saw him deliberately showing off, his tail raised to the sky, and found it amusing—

When you become a formidable power in the future and recall today, how embarrassed you’ll be, probably wishing to silence everyone who witnessed this.

Meng He Ze still looked straight at him.

Song Qian Ji hesitated before finally understanding—he was asking for praise!

“Hmm, well done,” he didn’t know how others praised children, barely managing two words. “Keep up the good work, and achieve more success.”

“Good, I’ll compete again next time!” Meng He Ze clenched his fist vigorously.

“No, no, that’s not necessary!” Song Qian Ji hurriedly dispelled this idea.

“The next Announcement Assembly is ten years from now. By then, you’ll have formed your Golden Core. How could you still compete with young people? How embarrassing.”

Meng He Ze was momentarily speechless with emotion.

So in Senior Brother Song’s heart, I could progress from Foundation Building to Golden Core in just ten years, even faster than Ziwu Wenshu back then.

I don’t even dare imagine it, yet Senior Brother believes in me so much, and places such high expectations on me.

I must not disappoint Senior Brother.

He immediately dropped his showing-off manner, like a peacock folding its colorful screen, and bowed solemnly:

“Senior Brother Song’s teaching is correct. I will carefully follow Senior Brother’s guidance!”

All outer court disciples said in unison: “We will carefully follow Senior Brother Song’s guidance.”

The momentum was overwhelming. The bean leaves at the entrance of Song’s courtyard trembled, and Song Qian Ji was also startled.

Drunk last night, he hadn’t felt it. Only now did he distinctly feel that these disciples, after working together in the performance trial, were more united and powerful than before.

The performance trial was not just Meng He Ze’s victory alone.

“What noodles does Senior Brother want to eat today?” Meng He Ze asked.

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “No noodles today. I need to pack my things. Before midnight tonight, Huawei Sect will give me a prefecture.”

“Senior Brother is going down the mountain?!” Meng He Ze was stunned.

He had anticipated this and wasn’t shocked, but hadn’t expected it to come so soon.

He suddenly smiled and turned to call loudly: “Going down the mountain is good! Everyone, go pack your things!”

Cheers erupted again, with everyone shouting about going down the mountain together.

Song Qian Ji was confused—do you all listen to whatever I say?

Song Qian Ji called out sternly: “Why are you going down the mountain? You’ve won the martial trial championship, and countless immortal sects and families are competing to accept you into their inner courts. You should choose one that suits you, and your path to immortality will be smooth. Isn’t that good?”

Meng He Ze was startled.

The color drained from his rosy cheeks, his eyes blinked, instantly filling with tears, his expression panicked:

“Senior Brother, doesn’t Senior Brother want me anymore?”

Song Qian Ji thought helplessly, I’m not your real father.

Even if I were your real father, children grow up and leave. You should go establish yourself.

“Each person has their destiny. You’re destined for boundless prospects…”

Before he could finish, Meng He Ze’s tears fell.

Song Qian Ji thought, this won’t do, and immediately put on a stern face: “You’re crying again?! A grown man of seven feet, bleeding but not crying. You didn’t cry when injured in the performance trial, but now you’re pretending with me…”

Meng He Ze, pale-faced, stared at him with bloodshot eyes.

All the outer court disciples stared at him as if he were a heartless person abandoning his children.

Song Qian Ji couldn’t continue, and mindful of all the watching eyes, he had to lower his voice and change his tone, “Alright, alright, I apologize. Don’t cry anymore. I was wrong, I was excessive.”

Song Qian Ji was helpless and speechless.

In his previous life, no one dared to cry in front of him. Why did everyone come to cry to him in this life?

But Meng He Ze thought, how could Senior Brother Song go to the mortal realm alone?

When hungry, no one to cook noodles; when thirsty, no one to serve tea. After finishing work in the fields, no one to hand him a silk cloth to wipe his hands.

If he encountered powerful enemies and was bullied, there would be no one to protect him…

The more he thought, the more devastated he became.

“If you’re going, let’s go together. Senior Brother, take me with you!” Meng He Ze clutched Song Qian Ji’s sleeve.

“Senior Brother Song, take me too,” Zhou Xiaoyun called out.

The outer court disciples all clamored: “We’ll go with Senior Brother! We’ll follow Senior Brother to the death!”

I’m going to farm, not to fight. Why do I need so many people “following to the death”?

Song Qian Ji said gravely: “The place I’m going is not a beautiful mountain with clear waters. It’s a barren wasteland where grass doesn’t grow and fierce beasts roam. Conditions are harsh. It will delay your cultivation. If you do, it’s no different from severing your path to immortality!”

He intended to intimidate them into retreating, but upon hearing this, the disciples became even more determined.

How could they let Senior Brother Song be banished alone by the Huawei Sect to such poor mountains and evil waters?

“We’re not afraid!”

Song Qian Ji: “Life in the mortal realm is hard…”

“What’s to fear about the mortal realm? We’re originally from there,” Zhou Xiaoyun said. “I used to feel very insignificant, born a mortal with weak cultivation, like an ant in a big sect. But since Senior Brother Song has answered our questions and guided us, we don’t have to take the sect’s abuse or fight desperately for work. Didn’t we succeed in this performance trial? Even the most humble power, when gathered together, twisted into a single rope, can accomplish many things!”

“Since we’re going to a barren land where grass doesn’t grow,” Meng He Ze had a flash of inspiration, “we can help Senior Brother reclaim it! Land reclamation needs manpower.”

“That’s right!” others agreed, giving a hundred more reasons to go down the mountain together, looking expectantly at Song Qian Ji.

Song Qian Ji fell silent.

If so many people remained at Huawei Sect, they probably wouldn’t be treated well.

If they followed Meng He Ze to other sects, it wouldn’t be easy either.

If they scattered to seek their paths… they had just shared hardships, and their friendship now surpassed that of relatives and friends. They were most unwilling to separate.

For now, he would take them along. When they changed their minds, he would find paths for them, passing on good cultivation techniques according to their characteristics. This way, their time wouldn’t be wasted.

No matter who it was, following him, he always felt the other would regret it.

Song Qian Ji waved his hand: “Then pack your things. We’ll descend the mountain together!”