The Milky Way stretched far and wide, with a crescent moon rising, hanging on the upturned corners of the eaves, right before the eyes of Meng He Ze and Ji Chen.

The silver light outlined the fine fuzz on Meng He Ze’s cheeks. Only at this moment did he look like a teenage boy.

The summer night was quiet, perfect for sharing moonlight and having heart-to-heart conversations with friends.

Ji Chen could sense the unstable breath and restless thoughts of the person beside him, so he took the initiative to speak:

“How long have you known Brother Song? You seem like real brothers.”

Meng He Ze pondered:

“It’s been two years now. But I feel like I only truly got to know him this spring. I was so foolish before, with many misunderstandings about him. Yet he didn’t hold grudges and even risked his life to save me by jumping off a cliff…”

The young man hugged his sword, leaning against a vermilion pillar while gazing at the moon. “After getting to know him, everything changed. Only then did I realize my previous life was no way for a person to live.”

“I don’t want to go back to my former life either,” Ji Chen smiled. “I always told myself ‘Contentment brings happiness, I already have enough,’ but was I really satisfied? Optimism was just a show for others. A person can’t live in a place where they can’t see the future, even if they have a lot of money.”

Even if they have a lot of… what?

Meng He Ze was momentarily stunned, then said softly: “Don’t ever say such things to outsiders. Especially to people like Liu. Understand?”

Ji Chen blinked, his eyes like the shimmering water of a lake under moonlight: “Are you afraid I’ll be ridiculed?”

Heart-to-heart conversations under the moon worked! Brother Meng now considered him one of his own!

He had gained another brother in this world. Although he had broken ties with his family and left home, who said true brothers must be related by blood?

Meng He Ze, oblivious to his thoughts, rolled his eyes: “I’m afraid you’ll be beaten to death.”

Ji Chen put his hand on Meng’s shoulder: “You’re the champion of the martial trials. If someone tries to kill me, will you help me?”

“Who would dare harm you? Of course, I would…” Meng He Ze suddenly stopped speaking, shook off Ji Chen’s hand, and turned to the other side of the corridor pillar, presenting his back to him. “You’re loaded with wealth and have so many fine magical tools. Why would you need me?”

Ji Chen came around to face him again: “Let’s chat a bit more, Brother Meng.”

Meng He Ze scoffed lightly: “No more chatting. A grassroots, country bumpkin outer disciple like me has nothing in common with a rich young master from a prestigious cultivation family like you.”

Though rebuffed, Ji Chen just grinned.

He had once been described as “foolish, rich, and talkative,” and wouldn’t easily give up on a chance to chat.

“What kind of girls do you like, Brother Meng? What do you think of my younger sister? Although she’s usually wild and doesn’t act like a proper girl, likes to cause trouble without reason, and has hidden violent tendencies, she’s a good girl!

“In my heart, she’s a hundred times more adorable than Immortal Lady Miao Yan, no, a hundred times more. Would you like to spend some time with her and see?”

Meng He Ze, leaning against the corridor pillar, turned on his heel to avoid him, while Ji Chen pursued.

The two circled the pillar, performing the “Hongfu Two-Person Dance.”

“Creak.”

The tightly closed hall doors suddenly opened.

Both men immediately sobered, turning their heads simultaneously.

The one who opened the door was Liu Hongshan. He was holding Song Qian Ji’s hand, slightly bowing, as if facing a life-saving benefactor, a reincarnated father:

“Let’s stay in close contact from now on! Qianqu and Hongfu are one family, and family members speak frankly with each other.”

Meng He Ze and Ji Chen exchanged a tacit glance, seeing their bewilderment reflected in each other’s eyes.

How had they become family? Who wanted to be family with him?

Song Qian Ji smiled with reserve: “Of course, of course.”

Liu Hongshan stammered: “Then the method to overcome this tribulation…”

“I’ll begin calculating tonight,” Song Qian Ji said.

“Has my young brother opened the celestial eye for others, using this art of reading auras?” Liu Hongshan asked.

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “No.”

Custom-made just for you, specifically to fool you alone—doesn’t that move you?

Liu Hongshan felt extremely fortunate: “To be honest, after reaching Yuan Ying, your elder brother wishes to advance even further. Could you reserve all your remaining opportunities to open the celestial eye for me?”

Song Qian Ji thought to himself, you’re certainly thinking far ahead.

But outwardly he expressed difficulty: “Performing the technique multiple times, I’m afraid I couldn’t explain myself to the old Chess Ghost.”

“I understand. Is a small river enough? Doesn’t the friendship between Brother Song and me deserve a grand canal? Ships will travel between our two counties for trade. Hongfu produces silk and cloth; you can take a batch back to Qianqu first.”

Song Qian Ji: “Ordinary cloth would be useless to me.”

Liu Hongshan misunderstood: “Young brother thinks too little of me. How could I give you ordinary goods! Convey my verbal command: all noble clans and rural gentry, open your storehouses and offer your treasures!”

“No need for such courtesy,” Song Qian Ji said. “I should take my leave now.”

Liu Hongshan wouldn’t hear of it: “The night is already deep, no need to rush! Come, prepare another feast!”

…

At the border between the two counties, once desolate and uninhabited, carriages and horses now converged, with noble canopies gathering, as if reviving the once-bustling marketplace.

But these people wore luxurious clothes and carried arrogant airs, vastly different from ordinary farmers and merchants.

Across the vast expanse of windblown sand, Hongfu County’s imposing wall stood immovable, invisibly suggesting the power of the celestial official behind it.

Someone impatiently asked: “Why hasn’t he returned yet?”

Another cheered: “Celestial Official Liu is almost at the Yuan Ying stage, gentle in appearance but ruthless at heart. How could he easily let him go?”

Someone sneered coldly: “Making us dig canals on the ground, working alongside those country bumpkins, eating in the same place—he dares to dream.”

The Seven Mysteries Treasure Ship’s silhouette appeared through the dust, and suddenly all voices fell silent.

Everyone’s expressions subtly changed as they dismounted from their horses. Though outwardly respectful, their backs remained straight, as if supported by some invisible force.

Today they gathered here, ostensibly to “welcome the celestial official,” but actually to “show their strength.”

“News from Hongfu has arrived!” A messenger ran through the dust cloud. “News from Hongfu has arrived!”

Everyone’s spirits rose as Elder Li took the message and deliberately unfolded it slowly.

People had been anxious and worried for days, unable to sleep, desperately needing good news, and hating his deliberate calmness:

“What happened? How was Song Qian Ji taught a lesson?”

Halfway through reading, Elder Li’s composed expression suddenly changed. His lips trembled as he turned and rushed toward his carriage: “Go, quick! Leave this place, leave Qianqu!”

His younger family members didn’t understand and refused to mount their horses, still asking why.

“Who is the biggest landowner in Hongfu?”

“The Bai family, of course!”

Elder Li threw down the letter: “The pigs and sheep raised on the Bai family estate were dragged out one by one this morning, and half of their six grand treasuries have been emptied! Celestial Official Liu personally cast spells day and night without rest. Hongfu’s embankments and sluice gates are nearly complete!”

Everyone was shocked, feeling a soul-scattering, heart-splitting terror.

Since Song Qian Ji was unharmed, they would be the unfortunate ones.

It was one thing for Song Qian Ji to target landlords, but how could a celestial official from Qianqu County extend his reach to neighboring Hongfu County?

Even Liu Hongshan, who was about to break through to Yuan Ying, couldn’t handle him. Was he even human? Did he follow any rules?

The treasure ship landed with a thunderous boom, like a clap of thunder, frightening everyone into scattered flight.

From a distance, Song Qian Ji saw familiar faces and was about to disembark to greet them and inquire about the construction progress on Qianqu’s side.

Instead, he witnessed chaos as people scrambled onto their horses, abandoning their carriages and fleeing, disappearing in an instant.

“Why are they running? They’ve even lost their shoes,” Song Qian Ji puzzled.

Later he heard that the great lords of Qianqu County had left, paying tribute to rogue cultivators who operated black boats on the Great Marsh, buying standing-room tickets and leaving overnight.

Some people would rather brave a new world with nine deaths and one life than live like ordinary people digging canals and growing grain, living stable, ordinary lives.

For them, working hard with their own hands was more unbearable than death.

…

On the wasteland, there was tremendous activity, with dust flying everywhere.

Shouts pierced the clouds as along both sides of the canal, over a thousand men worked bare-chested, bent over in labor. The clanging of hammers and shovels merged into a continuous sound that reverberated endlessly across the open fields.

Though the scene appeared chaotic, everything proceeded in an orderly fashion under guidance. No one’s cart crashed into another’s soil basket; no one’s rake hit another’s shovel.

Qianqu had once been surrounded by rivers, with remnants of old riverbeds and dried-up ditches as a foundation, so the actual workload for this water diversion project wasn’t that great.

Under the scorching sun, the robust canal workers were covered in dust. Sweat flowed down their foreheads and necks, washing away the dirt on their bodies in winding streams, like the water canals in their dreams.

“Will Hongfu County let water flow to us?”

“With Celestial Official Song, it will happen when he returns.”

A gong sounded, and Xu Kanshan used his spiritual energy to shout: “Mealtime! Mealtime!”

Those carrying soil baskets put them down, those with shoulder poles set them aside, and everyone dropped their tools, swarming toward the thatched sheds.

The aroma of food wafted in on the breeze, making mouths water uncontrollably.

Long queues formed in front of seven or eight thatched sheds.

An older canal worker patted the person beside him: “You’ve had a good time. Do you know what they fed us when renovating the temple back then?”

“What could it be? Bean porridge?” a young worker replied.

“Dream on. Who would cook bean porridge for you? It was all black hard biscuits, like sucking on pebbles.”

“Sucking on stones?” Young canal workers before and behind in the queue looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

The older man adopted the expression of someone who had seen it all: “The weather was too hot, people had no appetite, and the black biscuits were harder than rocks, choking the throat, impossible to swallow. Not eating meant no strength, no strength meant not being able to work, which meant beatings. A cook came up with an idea—boiling stones in spicy sour sauce. People would suck on the spicy sour flavor on the stones while gnawing on the biscuits…”

Someone interrupted from behind: “At least there were stones to suck when building the temple. When we were building the celestial official’s mansion, the black biscuits weren’t even enough to fill our stomachs!”

The older worker’s eyes revealed the weight of years, while the younger ones sighed repeatedly.

The queue continued to move forward, and a bowl of stew broke their bitter reminiscing atmosphere.

Potatoes, carrots, and Chinese cabbage were stewed in meat broth in a large pot, with meaty, chewy meatballs. The steamed buns were large and soft, emitting a fragrant aroma.

Then came another immortal master’s loud shout: “Those who want sour plum water, go to Shed C. All members of the third team, after eating, go to Shed A to collect grain and meat—it’s your turn to go home for rest.”

Amid their ravenous eating, everyone looked up enviously at the third team.

“Last time I went back, the village chief held a celebration feast for me. My wife and children were so excited they couldn’t sleep all night.”

“Working shirtless on the canal, when we return to the village, we’re all heroes.”

Just then, the earth trembled slightly.

Everyone turned their heads toward the horizon, where a white line emerged at the end of their vision.

The white line reflected the blazing sunlight, so bright it dazzled the eyes.

People stood frozen, holding their bowls with mouths agape.

Someone murmured: “What is that?”

The scene seemed to possess a magical power. Everyone stared intently at the horizon, completely still, forgetting even the fragrant meat stew in their hands.

Someone whispered: “It’s a white dragon, with scales that shine and sparkle.”

The earth’s trembling gradually ceased as the white dragon was controlled and guided by an invisible force. Its unstoppable momentum slowed, and it glided toward them with gentle grace.

From somewhere, a great shout first rang out:

“The water has come, our water has come—”

“Hongfu has opened the floodgates!”

Cheers erupted, resounding through heaven and earth.

On the wasteland, countless strangers embraced and wept.

According to later legends, when Qianqu first diverted water, the Divine King arrived riding a silver dragon.