Song Qian Ji saw the celestial temple up close for the first time.
Rather than an ordinary ancestral hall or temple, it resembled a magnificent golden palace.
Under the azure sky, the golden roof reflected sunlight, vermilion walls extended in all directions, and rows of black carved doors and windows stood wide open.
Grand and majestic, sacred and solemn.
When one looked up, they couldn’t help but feel small and insignificant, worth even less than a single tile of the temple.
Since ancient times, there had been a single path to the celestial temple—eighty-one layers of steps, each made of white jade.
Cultivators could use spiritual energy or magical artifacts, while the wealthy gentry could ride in palanquins. Only ordinary mortals had to prostrate themselves at each step when coming to worship.
The outer disciples following behind Song Qian Ji exclaimed in succession:
“So this is a celestial temple! It’s truly magnificent and imposing.”
“It’s so high—wouldn’t people get tired walking up here every time they come to burn incense?”
Zhao Ren looked at them as if they were country bumpkins who had just entered the city.
They truly had no worldly experience. Qianqu County was destitute; this temple was merely a small one.
“Junior Brother Song, is this your first time serving as an immortal official?” Zhao Ren asked knowingly while beckoning someone from the retinue of officials behind him.
The man bowed deeply to Song Qian Ji.
Song Qian Ji was puzzled: “Who is this?”
“He is the best portrait artist in Qianqu County,” Zhao Ren said with a smile. “After painting your portrait today, craftsmen will work day and night to create a golden statue, completing it within three days. Then you can consecrate it with a drop of your blood, enshrine it in the celestial temple, and enhance your spiritual fortune.”
Song Qian Ji was immediately on alert: “That won’t be necessary!”
Many things that had happened in this lifetime were already somewhat strange.
If his spiritual fortune increased further, attracting heaven-sent opportunities, and truly bringing Xian Jianchen to him, it would greatly interfere with his farming plans.
He absolutely could not allow himself to be worshipped with incense.
Zhao Ren thought to himself, I’m lending you, my painter, showing goodwill, yet you don’t appreciate it.
But his face remained smiling: “Junior Brother Song’s ‘Hero’s Invitation’ is renowned throughout the cultivation world. Since calligraphy and painting are kindred arts, I’m sure your painting skills are also unparalleled, so naturally you look down on the artists of this small place.”
Song Qian Ji didn’t respond to this. Instead, he pointed to the people kneeling on the square below the jade steps:
“Are they all willingly coming to worship at the celestial temple?”
“Of course! They’re all very sincere!” Zhao Ren’s tone was decisive, fearing Song Qian Ji might grow suspicious.
“Why?” Song Qian Ji was confused. “The cultivators being worshipped benefit, but what benefit do these people receive?”
“Enormous benefits!” Zhao Ren imparted his experience to Song Qian Ji. “According to custom, the immortal official will randomly select one person from among the mortals participating in the offering ceremony and fulfill one wish. However, these mortals are mostly insatiable. If their requests are excessive, you needn’t feel troubled—just choose someone else. But don’t tell them the selection is arbitrary; say you choose the most sincere worshipper. This way, they’ll be even more sincere.
“Last year, the mortal I selected said he had no food to eat, so I directly ordered the Minister of Agriculture to give him a thousand jin of grain, making him rich overnight. The year before, someone was sick and near death, so I gave him a bottle of life-extending elixir, prolonging his life by a hundred years…”
As he spoke of these ‘benefits,’ he held his head high, his expression proud.
The officials behind him skillfully flattered him: “Your generosity has repeatedly created miracles—truly a blessing for the people of Qianqu!”
“A living bodhisattva who saves the suffering—you deserve even more worship.”
The flattery was suddenly interrupted by a crisp female voice:
“When wealth falls from heaven, how do they carry it home? It’s easy to be robbed on the way, inviting disaster. Life-extending elixirs don’t relieve the pain of illness; they still must endure suffering. In this way, their problems aren’t solved but may even be worsened. Why would they still willingly worship at the temple…”
Before Ji Xing could finish speaking, she turned to glare at Ji Chen. “Brother, why do you keep pulling my sleeve? I’m genuinely curious about how immortal officials handle matters. Can’t I ask?”
Ji Chen smiled apologetically at Song Qian Ji: “Brother Song, my younger sister is young and means no harm.”
“It’s fine,” Song Qian Ji seemed lost in thought, still somewhat dazed.
Zhao Ren thought to himself, Song Qian Ji’s subordinates have no manners. What place is this? How dare a little girl question me?
But seeing the expensive legal robe on this pretty young female cultivator and her innocent expression, he could tell she was raised in luxury from childhood. Not wishing to offend her rashly, he merely said coldly:
“Mortals have their karmic connections. Their fortunes and misfortunes are their fate—what does this have to do with immortal officials?”
As he spoke, they reached the end of the white jade steps.
The threshold of the celestial temple was higher than elsewhere, reaching one’s knees, stretching before them like the insurmountable path to immortality.
Inside the hall, incense burned continuously year-round, wisps of blue smoke drifting outside, like ethereal auspicious clouds.
Song Qian Ji stopped amid the smoke and clouds, suddenly turning around.
Zhao Ren was stunned, about to ask what he was doing.
He saw Song Qian Ji take a deep breath and call out loudly to the mortals kneeling in the square:
“Do not worship me! I will not fulfill any of your wishes—”
He infused his voice with spiritual energy, so it carried effortlessly, broadcasting far and wide.
The crowd in the square looked up in confusion, seeing the newly appointed immortal official standing against the light.
The sunlight outlined his tall figure with a golden edge, though they couldn’t see his face. Only his voice echoed throughout heaven and earth:
“Don’t kneel to me! Everyone stand up—”
No one moved. People remained kneeling.
Song Qian Ji thought this was bad. According to the laws of spiritual fortune, whichever mortal worships me is interfering with me.
No one shall interfere with me!
Meng He Ze had been observing Song Qian Ji’s expression all along. Seeing the situation, he immediately gathered his spiritual energy and roared:
“Who. Dares. To. Keep. Kneeling!”
His fierce demeanor and imposing aura made him seem like he was driving away unwelcome guests at mealtime.
At the back of the square, one person tremblingly stood up, then a second, and a third.
Finally, like waves rising from the sea, one after another, spreading out in succession, everyone stood up.
Song Qian Ji was finally relieved. He turned and stepped into the hall, only to be startled—
—Inside the hall, another group of people were kneeling.
Though mortals, their posture was extremely respectful, their clothing elegant, and luxurious but not ostentatious.
Regardless of age, they all had ruddy complexions and robust energy, evidence of regular consumption of body-strengthening elixirs, setting them apart from ordinary mortals long ago.
The elderly man kneeling at the front spoke in a resonant voice: “Ten thousand blessings to the Immortal Official.”
The people behind him said in unison: “We wish the Immortal Official eternal youth, rapid daily progress, and early ascension!”
Early ascension? That sounded inauspicious. Song Qian Ji hastily waved his hand: “Everyone rises.”
While the crowd stood up, he turned his head and asked Zhao Ren in a low voice, “What is this about?”
Zhao Ren chuckled softly: “According to custom, they should now present treasures to you.”
“Can they not?” Song Qian Ji asked.
“No,” Zhao Ren smiled. “If you don’t accept, how can they be at ease?”
Isn’t this what you’ve been looking forward to? Yet you still pretend.
Meng He Ze brought out a reclining chair, and Song Qian Ji sat down.
The outer disciples entered the hall in great numbers, standing behind him.
The wealthy gentry exchanged glances secretly.
Although they had heard of Song Qian Ji’s reputation and were prepared, seeing this scene with their own eyes still made them uneasy.
Zhao Ren made a gesture, and an official behind him brought forth a register, announcing in a drawn-out tone:
“To celebrate the new immortal official’s appointment, the Liu clan of Qianqu County presents four red marrow spirit jade pillows, three sets of ancient-method glazed tea sets…”
“The Zhang clan of Qianqu County presents two golden-thread legal robes made of heavenly cloud satin…”
Song Qian Ji leaned back in his chair, patiently listening to the “menu” being announced.
As the list went on page after page, the new immortal official remained disinterested, showing no reaction.
The wealthy gentry grew anxious, secretly gritting their teeth.
An elderly man stepped forward before the list was finished, bowing and presenting a gift box: “Immortal Official Song, this sea-calming dragon pearl is a family heirloom, which I present to you today.”
Song Qian Ji thought to himself, when will this ever end? He responded with a faint acknowledgment.
The wealthy gentry came forward one after another, each bringing out their most valuable treasures.
Meng He Ze maintained his cold expression, appearing fierce.
The Ji Chen and Ji Xing siblings, accustomed to seeing treasures, remained unimpressed.
The outer disciples kept expressionless.
They all thought unanimously: You truly don’t understand Senior Brother Song. What could have been resolved with a bag of seeds has been made unnecessarily complicated.
Seeing Song Qian Ji and his subordinates’ contemptuous attitude, the last person stepped forward and bowed, saying with gritted teeth as if cutting flesh:
“I have two daughters at home, just coming of age, accomplished in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. They are willing to serve the immortal official, pouring tea and water…”
Song Qian Ji quickly stopped him: “That won’t be necessary!”
How absurd—as if I haven’t brought enough people along this journey!
He urged: “Is there anything else? Bring it all forward at once.”
More? The wealthy gentry were completely panicked, as if they were about to be stripped bare.
As the saying goes, “Immortal officials flow like water, but prominent families endure like iron.” Three major clans dominated Qianqu County, intermarrying and forming a united front.
As the true rulers of Qianqu County, they appeared respectful on the surface but were proud inside, considering themselves experienced in all situations.
Until today, when they presented treasures to the point of questioning their existence.
Being unable to gauge the new immortal official’s pulse was dangerous—everyone instinctively felt that many things would be different from before.
Zhao Ren was equally shocked. Still not satisfied after all this? How greedy!
Despite Song Qian Ji’s young age and handsome appearance, how could he act so ruthlessly?
Even more ruthless than me.
Unable to bear it any longer, he finally advised in a low voice:
“Brother, killing the hen for its eggs is unwise. They’ve served me wholeheartedly all these years. I should show some gratitude for their incense offerings. For my sake, let’s drop it this time.”
Song Qian Ji frowned. He recognized every word the other person said, but couldn’t understand them when put together.
But he understood the final words “drop it,” thinking to himself, why didn’t you say so earlier? Why have we wasted all this time?
He immediately waved his hand: “Fine, fine.”
At the immortal official’s word, the gentry all heaved sighs of relief.
Zhao Ren was pleased, feeling he had gained face, and announced loudly: “Let the Three Ministers come forward to report.”
The Minister of Military was first to step forward, but Song Qian Ji finally showed interest: “Let the Minister of Agriculture go first.”
The Minister of Agriculture hurriedly bowed: “Immortal Official Song, Qianqu County has three thousand dan of grain in storage and one thousand heads of livestock, all of which will be offered to the celestial temple today—offered to you.”
Song Qian Ji interrupted: “I’m not asking about these things.”
The Minister of Agriculture was alarmed.
Seeing him tremble, Song Qian Ji’s tone softened:
“I have many questions. Just note them down and answer them one by one later. There’s no rush.”
The Minister of Agriculture reluctantly agreed.
Song Qian Ji: “What are the main crops in Qianqu County? What do the common people prefer to grow? Where are the most fertile fields? How long is the daily sunlight? How many times does it rain each year? What’s the approximate yield per mu? Is it one, two, or three harvests per year? And what about the poorest fields? Are there any pest problems? If so, which types of pests? Which season has the most?”
The Minister of Agriculture found the questions increasingly disturbing.
By the end, his face had turned bright red, and he couldn’t speak, only stammering.
Meng He Ze said fiercely: “Answer what you’re asked!”
The Minister of Agriculture, shocked by his Foundation Establishment pressure, broke into a cold sweat: “Our county grows millet and beans, with one harvest per year. The highest yield per mu can reach a hundred jin. As for pests, I’m not… not very clear.”
A hundred jin was the yield from the estates of wealthy landowners. Ordinary farmers would consider fifty jin a blessing. The county hadn’t seen rain in three years—how could he dare say this?
Song Qian Ji was bewildered.
Just this? Only a hundred jin?
Not very clear? I thought you, as the honorable Minister of Agriculture, overseeing grain, maintaining farming tools, and providing field equipment, would offer profound insights. Who knew you would speak such crude words?
How disappointing.
The wealthy gentry observed Song Qian Ji’s expression. Earlier, when accepting offerings, though displeased and impatient, he hadn’t shown obvious displeasure.
But now his expression was ugly, brows tightly knit.
The Minister of Agriculture’s face had already turned pale.
The new immortal official was indeed dissatisfied with the treasures and was looking for fault, establishing his authority.
The sharp knife happened to fall on his neck.
He fell to his knees with a thud, kowtowing: “Mercy! Immortal Official, please spare this lowly one!”
“Dong dong dong.” His head struck the cold stone floor, the sound crisp.
Seeing this, the Ministers of Ceremonies and Military couldn’t help but feel the melancholy of shared fate.
With the new immortal official so difficult to serve, someone’s blood might spill in the celestial temple today.
“Why are you kneeling again!” Song Qian Ji was confused.
Meng He Ze stepped forward, forcefully pulling the man up.
But the Minister of Agriculture thought Meng He Ze was dragging him out to be executed. His body went limp as mud, tears, and mucus flowing, struggling not to rise:
“Master Immortal, I beg for your mercy!”
Just then, a commotion erupted outside the hall.
Zhao Ren frowned slightly. Wasn’t it chaotic enough already? Weren’t there enough handles given to Song Qian Ji?
He said coldly: “Who is making noise!”
“Forgive us, Immortal Official.” The door attendant entered to report, “Outside is Crippled Liu from Xiaolan Village. He’s acting crazy, insisting on presenting a treasure. We couldn’t stop him.”
Zhao Ren asked: “What treasure does he offer?”
“A farming tool he made himself. He says it’s a new type of plow. Should we let him in?”
Zhao Ren suddenly understood, sneering dismissively at their little trick.
How could a mortal cause such a disturbance in the square? The three clans must have seen the tense atmosphere inside and allowed that mortal to cause trouble.
They wanted to divert Song Qian Ji’s attention to spare the Minister of Agriculture’s life.
The real treasure presentation had already been botched. Today, someone had to bear the new immortal official’s thunderous anger—better to sacrifice a mortal and be done with it.
When Song Qian Ji heard the word “plow,” his eyes instantly brightened.
To think Qianqu County had such an intelligent talent innovating farming tools!
The mortal world truly concealed hidden dragons and crouching tigers!
“What are you waiting for? Quickly invite him in.” The supposedly ruthless Immortal Official Song suddenly stood up, his expression excited: “No, I’ll go out to welcome him.”
Before his words faded, his figure moved like the wind, already rushing outside the hall.