How could such a thing be displayed?

“Excellent, written even better than the ‘Egg Letter’!” Ji Chen had arrived at some point and was the first to cheer.

Truly worthy of the genius Brother Song, exceptional in both chess and calligraphy, even his aspirations differed from ordinary cultivators.

Meng He Ze led the outer disciples in applauding. Suddenly, thunderous applause filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere.

Zhao Ren thought in a daze that not only was Song Qian Ji mentally ill, but all the cultivators under him had gone mad as well.

Born into a cultivation family, he had entered Huawei Sect’s inner division as a youth. With resources piled upon him, he had smoothly formed his golden core.

The greatest setback in his life was nothing more than coming to this dead place to serve as an Immortal Official.

Deep in his heart, he believed that the gap between cultivators and mortals was even greater than that between humans and spirit beasts.

Cultivators absorbed spiritual energy and did not eat the five grains. Getting involved in mundane affairs was simply a waste of time, delaying cultivation.

Cultivators sought ascension and the Great Way, while mortals lived mediocre lives concerned only with food and shelter. During a single closed-door cultivation session, a mortal’s entire lifespan might come to an end.

What was the point of dealing with mortals or building relationships with them? Ten jin, a hundred jin, a thousand jin—what difference did it make?

Zhao Ren wasn’t willing to give up: “The calligraphy of ‘One Thousand Jin per Mu’ is elegant, but it can hardly be considered refined. Could Junior Brother Song provide another one?”

Song Qian Ji appeared to notice him only now, showing slight surprise:

“Fellow Daoist Zhao, the ceremony is already complete, yet you’re still here. Since you’re reluctant to leave, why not let me appoint you as Ritual Director to assist me from now on?”

“Junior Brother is joking! How could I have time to stay longer?”

“I only see guests off, I don’t invite them back,” Song Qian Ji said coolly. “Since you’re not staying, it won’t be so easy for you to return in the future.”

Zhao Ren was stunned. He realized that when this young man wasn’t smiling, he exuded a regal air of natural authority as if he were a level above him.

This made him very uncomfortable. In terms of cultivation, seniority, and background, wasn’t he superior in every way?

Provoked by this aura, his expression also cooled as he immediately summoned his life-bound flying sword: “Qianqu Prefecture is yours, I won’t return!”

This accursed place had prevented him from making any progress in cultivation for a year. If Song Qian Ji was willing to take over this mess, his priority should be returning to Chishui Peak of Huawei Sect to cultivate.

Whatever moves that Song Fellow made in the future, he would have the three great families of the prefecture report directly to his clan.

The flying sword transformed into a streak of light, riding the wind into the distance.

The wealthy gentry gazed skyward with reluctance. Compared to the unpredictable new Immortal Official, the previous Zhao clan Immortal Officials had made them feel more secure.

“Fellow Daoist Zhao, farewell,” Song Qian Ji smiled.

The flying sword broke through the cloud layer, sailing across the open sky.

Zhao Ren closed his eyes and took a deep breath, finally relieved of his burden. Then he remembered the rewards promised by Peak Master Zhao, putting him in a good mood.

The air was filled with the taste of freedom. He grinned, wanting to attach a wind-breaking talisman to his flying sword to increase its speed.

Suddenly, his smile froze: the wind-breaking talisman wasn’t on him.

Not just the wind-breaking talisman, but all the treasures he had collected in Qianqu over the years were left in the Immortal Official’s residence.

In the entire prefecture, only the Immortal Official’s mansion had the densest spiritual energy. He only occasionally went to the divine temple to receive offerings and kowtows; the rest of the time, he cultivated in his mansion without stepping out.

Habits are frightening things.

Living in luxury as an Immortal Official, with no need to duel with others, apart from his life-bound sword, he hadn’t carried talismans or magical tools with him for a long time.

Having just openly exchanged harsh words, declaring he would never return to Qianqu, turning back now would be humiliating.

At the thought of Song Qian Ji possibly getting a windfall, Zhao Ren’s face turned ashen, feeling stifled inside.

He could only console himself that the treasury was deeply buried underground, concealed by formation arrays. Song Qian Ji wouldn’t find a way in for quite some time.

You may have many people, but most have low cultivation levels. As a golden core cultivator familiar with the layout and formations of the immortal mansion, if I sneak in at night, who could stop me?

The crimson flying sword turned and hovered in the clouds.

…

After sending Zhao Ren away, Song Qian Ji naturally showed extraordinary friendliness and patience to the farming expert:

“Sir, you will move into the Immortal Official’s mansion today. Once your leg injury is healed, you will accompany me throughout Qianqu to promote the curved beam plow. For things I don’t understand, I will rely heavily on your guidance.”

Carpenter Liu’s eyes misted with tears as he nodded repeatedly in excitement: “…What virtue or ability do I possess?”

Looking around, he no longer saw cold mocking eyes. His fellow villagers stared at him, their faces filled with envy and admiration.

In the past, when he heard the village elders speak of “a scholar dies for the one who recognizes his worth” and “serve with utmost loyalty until death,” he never understood. In this world, living was difficult enough; who would be willing to die for someone not related by blood?

But now, with the new Immortal Official lifting him with both hands, a surge of heroic spirit suddenly rose within him. He thought that from now on, he would dedicate his heart and strength; even death would be willing.

The villagers looked enviously at Carpenter Liu, then stared hotly at the four characters “One Thousand Jin per Mu.”

If one mu of land could truly produce a thousand jin of grain, wouldn’t that mean one person working the fields could keep the whole family from starving?

Was the new Immortal Official going to use immortal techniques? Was he so kind-hearted, not just interested in incense offerings?

Most people dared not believe it.

Though Tiancheng was protected by formation arrays, the air was still dry.

The wind carried a layer of fine sand that stung slightly when it hit the face, giving it a somewhat chilly, rugged taste.

As Song Qian Ji entered the Immortal Official’s mansion and passed around a white jade screen wall, the sand and dust suddenly disappeared, replaced by clear, moist air that rushed toward his face.

At a glance, he saw green stone tiles, glazed tiles, a winding painted corridor, and a lotus pond.

Among the lush pines and cypresses peeked corners of multi-storied buildings with flying eaves, gleaming with a faint golden light in the sunshine.

At first, it didn’t seem particularly spacious, but as he followed the original steward’s introduction along the path, the road grew increasingly deep and distant, revealing that the Immortal Official’s mansion was a city within a city.

“I was worried there wouldn’t be enough room, but it turns out we can’t even fill it,” Meng He Ze sighed. “Being an Immortal Official in the mortal world allows for such a comfortable life. This is bigger than Xu Yun’s Cosmic Hall.”

After leaving Huawei Sect, he directly addressed the Sect Leader by his Daoist title, yet no one around found it strange.

Zhou Xiao Yun laughed: “The sky is high and the emperor is far away. A local emperor is more comfortable than the real one.”

The Ritual Director supported the new Agricultural Director, Liu the Carpenter, following beside Song Qian Ji with his head lowered, cautiously trying to please him: “How would you like this residence renovated? We can recruit laborers today and break ground tomorrow.”

Each new Immortal Official would renovate and expand according to their wishes. Immortal Officials were particular; none would want to live in the old dwelling left by their predecessor, so the mansion could only grow larger with each construction.

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “No need for renovations.”

“The tallest and newest part of the mansion is the Cloud Tower supervised by Immortal Official Zhao. Please, this way.”

Song Qian Ji still shook his head.

He found a remote abandoned garden, only slightly larger than Song Manor: “This place is fine.”

Over a thousand disciples moved into their new residence, everything was fresh, and it was a time when spirits were high and energy abundant.

Yet seeing Senior Brother Song insist on choosing the worst garden, everyone, not knowing what mood to adopt, began yielding to each other. No one argued over the selection of rooms.

Song Qian Ji opened the treasure box containing the Spring Mountain painting. With a slight movement of his divine consciousness, he took out potatoes, green beans, cucumber vines, wisteria, and other plants one by one.

Their root systems were completely encased in soil from Song Manor, without the slightest damage.

There were also flower racks of varying heights, two water vats filled with stones for growing lotus, and various self-made tools such as water sprinklers, watering cans, and spray bottles.

Song Qian Ji picked up a shovel and began turning the soil.

There was no need to use an ox-killing knife to kill a chicken; this small courtyard had no use for a magical item like the curved beam plow.

Rather than recruiting laborers to work, he preferred to do it himself.

In this process, he could feel the vitality within the soil.

If the soil of Huawei Sect was like a youthful maiden, full of vigor and vitality, then Qianqu was like a dying old man, clinging to the last breath of life.

Song Qian Ji immediately felt compassion.

Ji Chen wanted to step forward to help, but Meng He Ze gave him the look of someone who “had been there.”

Soon, Ji Chen found that he couldn’t lend a hand and would disrupt Song Qian Ji’s work rhythm.

Only Meng He Ze could barely integrate into this rhythm, which made Ji Chen quite envious.

He couldn’t help but follow behind Song Qian Ji, quietly observing.

He felt that when Brother Song did these things, although he was serious, there was no fatigue or tension.

It was still like turning in a calligraphy exam and then strolling with him along a mountain path, chatting and enjoying the scenery.

Ji Chen finally couldn’t help but speak up: “Brother Song, what can I do?”

Song Qian Ji smiled: “Tonight, I’ll continue teaching you chess. Want to learn?”

“Tonight?” Ji Chen was surprised, thinking Song Qian Ji was too busy during the day. “Of course, I want to learn! After you taught me last time, I found it very interesting and have been wanting to seek your guidance.”

Song Qian Ji looked up at the sky.

The curtain of night hung low, and it seemed wild geese were flying through the clouds.

“There will be a good practice partner tonight,” he murmured.

Only wandering cultivators from humble backgrounds would carry all their possessions with them.

Cultivators who dwelled long in cave dwellings would typically travel light.

“What did Brother Song say?” Ji Chen also looked up. “Is there something in the sky?”

But he saw only the setting sun in the west and the gradually dyed layers of clouds.

The buildings in Tiancheng were generally low, making the vast sky appear even more remote and solitary.

Song Qian Ji smiled: “I said, plants grow from the soil, people also come from soil and water, yet cultivators compete to fly into the sky… how strange.”

***

Huawei Sect.

The sea of clouds remained unchanged, with moonlight shining on thousands of peaks.

Chen Hong Zhu would enter closed-door cultivation tomorrow, under the protection of her father, Xu Yun, and many powerful Huawei cultivators, attempting to form her golden core.

She no longer wanted to be the most beloved daughter or junior, nor did she want to fall into the same situation as in the Cosmic Hall.

The closed-door cultivation was of great importance, but tonight she was neither meditating in the Hall of No Worries to calm her mind nor visiting Star-Plucking Terrace to relax by watching the stars.

She came to the outer division alone.

After Zhao Yu Ping was dismissed, Xu Yun promoted his confidant to serve as Chief Steward. When the new Chief Steward saw her arrive, he hurriedly followed behind her.

The new batch of outer disciples had not yet moved in, leaving the dormitories empty, with only the sounds of wind and insects at night.

As spring gave way to summer, the flower path in front of Song Manor had withered, leaving only clusters of lush green leaves.

When Song Qian Ji left under cover of night, he departed in great haste.

Therefore, although many chess players and calligraphers in the cultivation world admired his reputation, they had no opportunity to see him one more time or accompany him a bit further.

Chen Hong Zhu had not gone to say goodbye. Their positions were drastically different as if standing on opposite sides of a high mountain. The next time they met, they would likely be enemies rather than friends.

If that was the case, it was better not to meet.

She heard that He Qing Qing had rushed there but had only spoken a few words.

This left her feeling somewhat inexplicably lost, as if Song Qian Ji had no attachment to his time at Huawei Sect, even though he had lived each day comfortably.

All the people and events he encountered here—whether he had worked, practiced swordsmanship, bought a zither, or met someone—seemed unimportant to him.

“Young Mistress, please,” the Chief Steward said.

With a creak, the vermilion door opened wide, and Chen Hong Zhu was stunned.

Song Manor, once adorned with red and green, now stood bare, transformed by moonlight into something as pure and cold as an ice cave.

Only the newly turned soil proved that someone had once lived here.

The new steward cursed inwardly: that Song Qian Ji was truly like a goose that left not a single feather behind, a plunderer who took everything!

No, he had left one new crime: association with Song.

The Chief Steward smiled apologetically: “That fellow came from a mortal background, was short of money, and shallow-minded, coveting everything. Young Mistress, please don’t be angry.”

Chen Hong Zhu ignored him, walked into the courtyard, and looked around.

Finally, she sighed lightly: “It’s all over.”

It was unclear whether she felt melancholy or relief.

Song Qian Ji had entered the mortal world, and Huawei Sect should return to its normal state.

It remained powerful, still the number one sect in the Western Continent.

Revered by Western Continent cultivators and admired by countless mortals, it would not be changed by the force of a single person.

Chen Hong Zhu stepped across the threshold, and the Chief Steward closed the vermilion door behind her.

No one noticed a hint of emerald green emerging silently in the corner beneath the moonlight.

The two leaf buds, smaller than a needle tip, buried in the soil, were very inconspicuous.

Song Qian Ji had not left a single blade of grass, yet he had dropped a seed.

After his departure, rain fell at midnight in Huawei, and this inconspicuous tree seed sprouted.

The new batch of outer disciples was disembarking at the outer division square tonight.

Each young face looked similar, carrying dreams of reaching heaven in a single step, entering the colorful world of cultivation, and stepping onto the path to immortality filled with competition.