When Liu the Cripple was young, he wasn’t crippled, and naturally wasn’t called a cripple.

He had been a renowned carpenter in the surrounding villages, with exquisite craftsmanship and frequent flashes of ingenuity.

In Qianqu Prefecture, where iron tools were strictly controlled, a good carpenter skilled in mortise and tenon joints, who could build houses and furniture without using a single iron nail, would always earn the respect of the villagers.

Seeing the land becoming harder each year, with fewer oxen and increasingly laborious land cultivation, Carpenter Liu set his mind to innovating farm tools.

After three years of painstaking research, he created a new plow. Full of vigor and pride, he went to the divine temple to present his treasure, only to have his leg broken and be thrown out, without even seeing the face of the Immortal Official.

That year his wife was pregnant, and his son Xiao Hu was born, adding another mouth to feed in the household.

His circumstances plummeted.

Carpenter Liu would present his treasure at every “Tribute Gathering,” and without exception, he would be beaten.

His fellow villagers and friends initially tried to persuade him to give up, then stopped advising him and merely sighed, and now they just watched coldly from the sidelines.

“Ha, this madman, he thinks offering a plow will make him soar to success,” the village officials would say.

“I’m not doing it to achieve success,” Carpenter Liu would explain at first.

“If not for success, then what? Has a ghost possessed you?”

I want the Immortal Official to approve the new plow for the fields. I want everyone to be able to use the labor-saving new plow.

I want to prove I’m not crazy.

Carpenter Liu said in his heart.

Springs departed and autumns arrived, year after year, the incense at the divine temple never ceased, and he had been beaten eighteen times, his body covered in wounds.

If it didn’t work this year, then he would give up. He would pretend he had never made a new plow, that it was just a nightmare.

But perhaps the new Immortal Official would be different. He could let people “stand up,” and tell them not to make offerings to him.

No Immortal Official had ever said such things. If he would just take a look at his plow…

Carpenter Liu gathered his courage, took a deep breath: “I wish to see the Immortal Official, I have a treasure to present!”

“Go ahead, make a scene,” the temple guard sneered, but unlike before, he didn’t move to stop him, shouting, “If you have the guts, charge right up!”

“There must be a trap here. Liu the Cripple, you mustn’t go,” a fellow villager pulled at his clothes.

Carpenter Liu limped out from the crowd, about to step onto the jade steps.

Before his foot landed, sudden exclamations erupted from the temple entrance.

The temple had always been solemn and dignified; when had it ever been so clamorous?

The crowd in the square looked up and saw a figure rushing down the high steps, like a white cloud floating down from the sky.

Behind the cloud followed a group of officials and wealthy gentry.

These important figures, whose stomp could make Qianqu Prefecture tremble thrice, were now sweating profusely, lifting their robes to chase wildly, calling out: “Immortal Official Song, please wait!”

The Military Director, with his big belly, ran too hastily, missed a step, and rolled straight down. The guards hurriedly helped him up.

Amid the chaos, the new Immortal Official, his sash fluttering in the wind, floated before them.

Carpenter Liu stood dumbfounded—he had never imagined an Immortal Official could be so young, so much like a true immortal.

“How dare you!” the temple guard shouted sternly. “You dare to look directly at the Immortal Official!”

Carpenter Liu came to his senses and quickly prostrated himself, but was lifted up by a pair of hands.

“Sir,” he heard a gentle voice say.

Sir what? Who was the Immortal Official addressing?

Carpenter Liu felt deeply terrified, not daring to raise his head. In his peripheral vision, he could see the immaculate sleeve of the Immortal Official, faintly marked with the dirty handprints he had left.

It’s over, he thought. I haven’t even presented the plow, and I’m already doomed.

Song Qian Ji asked: “Sir, have you come to present an improved farming tool?”

The wealthy gentry pulled and pushed each other, finally stopping behind Song Qian Ji.

Zhao Ren descended from the clouds: “Junior Brother Song, what are you doing!”

Song Qian Ji ignored him, only asking the frightened Carpenter Liu: “Where is the farming tool? Did you bring it?”

Everyone stared in astonishment.

Zhao Ren felt a great loss of face but suppressed his anger, watching to see what Song Qian Ji was up to.

“Yes, yes, I brought it!” Carpenter Liu suddenly looked up, his nose tingling with emotion, his eyes becoming misty. “Please follow me, Immortal Official!”

The common people stood aside in shock, making a path. The entire crowd in the square followed Song Qian Ji.

Outside the square, under the green pines, Song Qian Ji personally saw a new-style plow different from traditional ones and knew he had come to the right place.

The clumsy, rigid straight beam had disappeared, replaced by a gracefully curved beam. The front of the beam, the plow disc, could rotate. The entire plow frame appeared lighter and more flexible.

This is truly a treasure, he thought.

“This humble one’s self-created curved beam plow turns better and saves more effort,” Carpenter Liu picked up the diamond-shaped plowshare and excitedly explained, “If this part below were made of iron, it would dig deeper and faster, making the work twice as easy!”

Song Qian Ji extended his hand, gently stroking the rough wood, as if caressing a flawless piece of jade.

His expression was serious and focused, mentally disassembling and reassembling each part of the plow, before finally asking:

“May I try it?”

“Ah?” Carpenter Liu was startled. “Of-of course!”

Even now, he still felt as if he were in a dream.

How could there be such an Immortal Official? Was he truly an Immortal Official?

The wealthy gentry saw the situation turning unfavorable but didn’t dare question Song Qian Ji. They anxiously kept making eye signals to the former Immortal Official.

Zhao Ren thought that Song Qian Ji was deep and calculating, a ruthless character who had wrested a prefecture from the sect’s hands. Every move must have profound meaning.

Song Qian Ji picked up the harness, examined it, put it on himself, and began walking forward on his own.

The officials turned pale and rushed to grab it from him.

Song Qian Ji was in a good mood and generously shared this pleasure, letting each person take turns wearing the harness and walking a few steps.

Under the green pines, the soil was turned inch by inch. A layer of fine green pine needles was buried in the ground and then turned back up.

The sunlight was clear, and the unique fragrance of soil mixed with the scent of green grass wafted in the breeze.

In Qianqu Prefecture, it was the first time the officials had ever “willingly bowed their heads to be like oxen” or had “sweat dripping onto the soil beneath the grain”—truly a remarkable sight.

The villagers were already dumbfounded, staring at the curved beam plow.

What treasure had Liu the Cripple created? Was there immortal magic on it?

No, how could Liu the Cripple know immortal magic? It must be the new Immortal Official using magic, making so many important officials fight to be the plow oxen.

This curved beam plow was truly magical. If such an effortless, labor-saving tool could be used in their fields, how wonderful it would be.

Of course, that was wishful thinking. All farming tools could only be rented, with the best ones only available for use on the estates of the great landlords.

Song Qian Ji finally nodded with satisfaction and sincerely praised: “The curved beam plow is indeed ingenious. Sir, you are a person of great talent.”

If he had tried to create it himself, working in isolation, he couldn’t have done it.

This man must be an expert in farming, a master of agriculture.

“Great Immortal Official, this lowly one is not worthy of being called ‘Sir’ by you!” Carpenter Liu was flustered.

Song Qian Ji said: “One who has achieved mastery is a teacher.”

Zhao Ren raged internally. Mastery a teacher, my foot!

You ignore the Chess Ghost and Calligraphy Sage, two true sages, but you call a mortal “Sir”?

Song Qian Ji wanted to win people’s hearts and establish a new group of trusted followers.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know that previous Immortal Officials of Qianqu Prefecture had also tried giving these stubborn commoners a few sweets to gain more destiny benefits. And the result?

Every one of them had failed and left their posts cursing. All possible paths had been exhausted. The mortals no longer believed in the divine temple and the Immortal Officials from the bottom of their hearts. What more could you do? Zhao Ren sneered.

Song Qian Ji then asked the crippled mortal several more questions about “soil and water, irrigation, fertilizer,” all terms that Zhao Ren couldn’t understand, and then asked the mortal’s full name and where he lived.

Then he nodded repeatedly and wanted to appoint the man as Agricultural Director.

The former Agricultural Director had just escaped death’s door and was still in shock. At this moment, how could he dare say no?

Carpenter Liu’s sudden rise to prominence left him so stunned that his fellow villagers had to help him stand up. His emotions shifted from joy to terror:

“This humble one barely recognizes a few characters and truly dares not take on such a heavy responsibility.”

Song Qian Ji pondered for a moment: “Please serve temporarily, Sir. The curved beam plow needs to be promoted throughout the prefecture, with at least one for each household. How can these matters proceed without Sir’s guidance? In a year, we will hold a Great Farming Competition. Each year’s champion shall serve as Qianqu Prefecture’s Agricultural Director for one year!”

This time, not just Zhao Ren, but everyone was bewildered.

A Great Farming Competition? What was that?

…

Inside the divine temple, Meng He Ze used his sword hilt to lift the imperial yellow curtains, revealing one by one the golden statues behind the gauze.

The statues were cast to true human proportions. Though not lifelike, they had a solemn, sacred appearance.

More than ten golden statues were placed around the hall, making the entire grand hall glitter with golden light.

Few outer disciples had seen the Sect Leader and Peak Masters in person, so they curiously examined the statues. But those with lower cultivation who looked directly at the statues’ faces immediately felt their spirits shaken and a subtle pain in their eyes.

Meng He Ze swept away the discomfort with a stroke of his sword. The incense burning before the statues flickered and instantly extinguished.

He led everyone to stand at the temple entrance, overlooking the square.

“Aren’t we following Senior Brother Song?” Zhou Xiao Yun asked.

Meng He Ze said: “Senior Brother rarely finds farming tools to his liking. He must try it out thoroughly. We’ll join him after he’s satisfied.”

“A few great landlords can offer so many fine things, much wealthier than being an outer disciple,” someone whispered.

Meng He Ze smiled: “This time, Qianqu’s wealthy gentry have suffered a great blow. We’ll deal with them slowly in the future.”

Ji Chen, seeing his smile, asked in confusion: “Did Senior Brother Song deliberately pressure them to offer treasures? With no prior grudge, why do this?”

Ji Chen was talkative and naturally friendly. Along the journey, he had become quite familiar with Meng He Ze.

Meng He Ze smiled coldly: “These people appear respectful but have always followed Zhao Ren’s lead. If we can’t thoroughly subdue them, our every move here will be reported to that Zhao fellow.”

Ji Xing imitated Zhao Ren’s tone: “Killing the hen for eggs is unwise. Keep them alive, and you can still extract quite a bit.”

…

“Junior Brother Song, the ‘Great Farming Competition’ is not urgent,” Zhao Ren said those four words, feeling extremely strange. “Let’s complete the final procedure, and then I will officially step down.”

“What else is there?” Song Qian Ji frowned slightly.

He had been planning to ask Carpenter Liu to accompany him immediately on a journey throughout Qianqu’s lands to formulate plans for reclamation and cultivation.

Zhao Ren signaled with his eyes to the Ritual Director.

The Ritual Director wiped his cold sweat: “Please, new Immortal Official, write a personal inscription.”

An attendant behind him presented a brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Zhao Ren pointed and smiled: “Look at the plaque on the archway of the divine temple square. That’s the facade of the entire prefecture. The ‘Natural Treasures’ inscription up there was written by me. The previous Immortal Official wrote ‘Land of Heroes,’ both for good fortune, expressing a vision.”

Zhao Ren thought secretly: This would be Song Qian Ji’s first public inscription since writing the hero’s letter. If he could quickly make a rubbing of it, wouldn’t cultivators fight over it?

Those cultivators would take it home, hang it in their studies or living rooms, and show it off to guests—how prestigious.

“Very well,” Song Qian Ji did not decline, lifting his brush with his wrist suspended.

The current inscription on the plaque was truly ugly, spoiling this place of mass gathering.

Zhao Ren held his breath. Song Qian Ji made a sweeping stroke, ink splashing, completing the four characters in one breath.

The brushwork was like iron painting and silver hooks, with the imposing force of the earth rushing toward them, like a river surging.

He read each character: “Mu, Chan, Qian, Jin.”

One Thousand Jin per Mu?!