Summer thunderstorms were unlike the gentle, persistent spring rains. They either didn’t fall at all, or they poured down grandly and profusely as if determined to transform heaven and earth.

After a night of heavy rain at Celestial Sound Sect, fallen flowers covered the ground, while tender leaves sprouted eagerly on branches.

For He Qingqing, it was a night of life and death transition, a rainy night that killed the old to create the new.

On the same evening, before the rain fell, the Thousand Canals hunting team finished work and gathered around a bonfire to drink and roast meat.

After butchering the demonic beasts, villagers from outside the Poisonous Miasma Forest would always select the best parts, marinate them with seasonings, and send them to the hunting team as expressions of gratitude.

The bright red firelight illuminated each young face. Team battles had made these young people more united and tacitly coordinated. They laughed and joked without restraint, growing increasingly unrefined.

“This is truly more enjoyable than life on the mountain.”

“To hell with Huawei Sect! Come, another bowl!”

Ji Chen was naturally sociable. At first, he urged everyone not to use foul language, but after half an evening of exposure, he had learned many new words, easily using phrases like “damn his mother” and “bury his father.”

A low-level demonic beast hung on the roasting rack. This wild boar was evenly proportioned with fat and lean meat. After roasting, it sizzled with oil, and when brushed with a layer of golden wild bee syrup, its tempting aroma made even cultivators who abstained from food eager to taste it.

Taking a bite, the crispy skin crackled, and the outer sect disciples ate with oil dripping from their mouths.

Ji Chen had always eaten refined food, but now, reduced to an outdoor barbecue, his posture remained more elegant than others. Not only was he elegant, but he also had the leisure to talk.

“When you fought on the arena during the martial trials, ‘my damn sister’ attended every match. She even sent out fancy notes to invite others to watch. Unfortunately, she never managed to catch the flowers you threw on the stage. She could only come back to me crying, which shows she likes you…”

To Meng He Ze, it sounded like ten thousand ducks quacking and flapping.

He thought, if I’ve done something wrong, Brother Song would punish me, rather than letting this fool who’s just learned to curse torture me.

Meng He Ze hugged his sword without saying a word, his profile cold and stern, his aura leaking out, trying to intimidate the other away.

Instead, he scared the other disciples from approaching, leaving only Ji Chen beside him, still talking about his sister, from her personality and interests to childhood stories.

From a distance, they looked close, like brothers with deep affection.

Ji Chen blinked his large eyes: “Brother Meng, are you listening? What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about you shutting up.”

“So, are you going to consider my damn sister or not?”

“I’ll consider your…”

Before he could finish, Meng He Ze’s expression suddenly changed, and he rose to his feet.

Ji Chen was startled and immediately became alert: “Is there a demonic beast?! Where?”

Meng He Ze looked at the sky and said softly: “The wind has risen.”

The wind came from the direction of Celestial City.

The bonfire flickered, blue smoke rose, sparks flew, and the aroma of roasted meat spread everywhere.

“Boom!”

Thunder suddenly crashed.

In the distance, beasts roared repeatedly, seeming to respond to the heavenly thunder.

All the disciples looked up at the sky together. Clouds gathered and dispersed, and the moon lost its light.

Ji Chen, after cultivating array techniques, had become more sensitive to changes in the natural energy of heaven and earth.

At this moment, he muttered: “Damn Brother Song’s mother, what kind of divine ability is he practicing?”

…

With the Great Heat approaching, the daytime sun was like fire, making the night’s coolness all the more precious.

Tonight, however, Xiaolan Village was particularly stuffy. The night sky seemed covered with an iron lid, trapping the human world without letting in any breeze.

Carpenter Liu’s large palm-leaf fan made loud swishing sounds, yet failed to generate even a hint of coolness.

Huan Niang laughed as she wiped his sweat: “Stop fanning me.”

Young men had stripped to their waists. Children ran around naked. Everyone was sweating profusely, their clothes sticking uncomfortably to their bodies.

The old village chief picked up his walking stick: “Everyone goes home.”

The unusual stuffiness suggested there would be no rain tonight.

Women carried children, men helped the elderly, and they all rose, chatting and laughing, showing no sign of disappointment.

After three years of drought in Thousand Canals, the dry heat was summer’s normal state. Rather than the rain itself, “waiting for rain with Immortal Official Song” had become a ritual, replacing the practice of kowtowing and making offerings in temples.

Waiting for rain every night made people believe that even thousands of miles away from the Immortal Official’s Manor in Celestial City, they could still feel the Immortal Official’s will and power.

Some dug channels along the field ridges, and some placed large empty vats at the village entrance as if telling the heavens they were ready to collect and store rainwater at any time.

Not just Xiaolan Village, but all hundred thousand people in Thousand Canals did the same.

Huan Niang called back little Tiger who was running wild: “Haven’t you played enough? Go back to the room and sleep.”

Since they had started eating their fill, the children had abundant energy, as if they never knew fatigue.

Little Tiger reluctantly said goodbye to his playmates, then turned and acted spoiled: “Mother, carry me.”

“Don’t be naughty, your mother has another one in her belly!” Carpenter Liu grabbed his son, walked a few steps, and then suddenly froze.

A rustling sound came from the fields, wave after wave like the ocean tide.

It was the sound of a strong wind blowing through the fields, rustling the grain ears.

“What is it?” Huan Niang tugged at his sleeve.

Carpenter Liu’s eyes brightened: “The wind has risen!”

What a refreshing strong wind!

Everyone stopped in their tracks.

Like a giant hand lifting the iron lid from the sky, the cool wind swept in, instantly clearing away the summer heat.

The sticky sweat on their faces was immediately blown dry, and the clothes clinging to their bodies were lifted by the wind, making them squint with comfort.

Thunder rolled continuously, echoing across the plains.

The old village chief suddenly threw down his wooden cane and opened his arms toward Celestial City, his body swaying.

His son hurriedly supported him: “Father, what are you doing!”

He soon stopped asking, touching his cheek, his eyes widening in shock.

Besides the fresh scent of grain, something cool and moist was carried on the wind.

Lightning shook the earth.

All villagers, young and old, men and women, looked up at the sky, moving from shock to excitement. Some lips moved slightly, but no one made a sound.

It was as if saying a word aloud would frighten that thing away.

…

Song Qian Ji still sat in Song’s Courtyard.

In the strong wind, flowers and leaves flew and danced everywhere, yet he alone sat motionless, eyes closed, breathing quietly.

He had not lit any candles tonight. Thick clouds obscured the moon, and Song’s Courtyard was engulfed in darkness.

But if a cultivator skilled in the art of observing auras had “opened the heavenly eye” at this moment, even a glance at Song Qian Ji would cause severe pain in their eyes and endless tears.

Endless streams of fortune gathered from all directions, surrounding Song Qian Ji’s body. After massive accumulation, they finally burst forth in brilliant golden light.

The blood and sincerity of over a hundred thousand people in Thousand Canals County converged, sending golden light shooting to the sky, making the night as bright as day.

Fortune is formless, and Song Qian Ji was completely unaware of it. He only felt that the “Spring Night Welcomes Rain” technique was becoming increasingly smooth, reaching an unbelievable level.

“It’s time,” he thought.

Tonight, at this very moment.

Every meridian, every bone, every pore in his body stretched open in the wind, filled with spiritual energy.

“Boom!”

A thunderclap.

Song Qian Ji’s energy reached its peak, though his expression remained unchanged.

Lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating the youth’s slender form.

Other cultivators, when breaking through while meditating, must absorb spiritual energy from the external world, and communicate with heaven and earth, proceeding from outside to inside.

But Song Qian Ji possessed an extraordinary treasure. In his elixir field, the pure vase made a clear sound and slowly rotated on its own, with the fine stream of the Immortal Spring flowing from the vase’s mouth.

The invisible golden light of fortune poured down like a waterfall, washing over his head, and infusing his entire body.

“Boom!”

Another thunderclap suddenly sounded.

“Plop!”

The first drop of water descended from the sky, wetting a potato flower.

“Whoosh!”

The great rain finally fell.

From one drop to ten thousand drops, from a drizzle to a downpour.

Like millions of sprites jumping between heaven and earth. Mountains, fields, and wilderness were covered with a layer of white gauze.

Mud splashed up, bringing a special fragrance and moisture.

Little Tiger stared in astonishment, the immense unfamiliarity making him shrink into his mother’s embrace.

Huan Niang’s eyes filled with tears: “Don’t be afraid, silly child, this is rain!”

The stunned crowd was activated by the rainwater:

“It’s raining! It’s raining!”

“Immortal Official Song has waited for the rain to come!”

Carpenter Liu’s knees bent, and he knelt on the ground.

People ran wildly in the rain, gulping down rainwater, splashing through water and laughing madly, running and shouting.

Not just people, but every stalk of grain in the fields, every sapling on the mountain stretched its roots, shook its leaves, and greedily drank its fill of water.

Rainwater filled the canals and overflowed from the large vats.

The old village chief wept profusely: “Three years! It’s been three years!”

The entire Thousand Canals region alternated between crying and laughing, intertwined with the sound of rain.

After three years of drought, they finally welcomed a night of heavy rain.

In the heavy rain at Song’s Courtyard, Song Qian Ji’s internal meridians were washed by the Immortal Spring, and his spiritual energy surged with the sound of rain.

Breaking through the Qi Condensation, breaking through the Foundation Establishment.

Advancing through two realms in one go, cutting through like a knife through melons and vegetables, directly approaching the half-step Golden Core.

Song Qian Ji silently thought this was not good, forcibly suppressing the Immortal Spring, mobilizing his divine consciousness to guide the spring water back to the pure vase, thus avoiding causing unusual phenomena in heaven and earth.

“That was close.” He exhaled deeply.

“Spring Night Welcomes Rain” was supposed to be a gentle technique, moistening things silently. Progressing step by step, blending with nature, and achieving results silently and naturally.

How could his cultivation surge so drastically, almost out of control?

The miraculous experience of breaking through two realms should only happen to world-saving protagonists.

Song Qian Ji felt somewhat helpless. In his previous life, he had worked hard, dreaming of increasing his cultivation.

In this life, his cultivation level chased after him while he ate noodles and slept.

…

Beyond Thousand Canals.

Wei Ping slept in Bright Moon Tower tonight.

He had long been accustomed to this life—sleeping in brothels when he had money, in gutters when he had none. There was no place he couldn’t sleep.

Half asleep and half awake, he suddenly heard raindrops tapping on the window and tiles, dense and fine, like scattered pearls falling to the ground.

Wei Ping suddenly opened his eyes.

Pushing open the window, wet mist rushed in, instantly dispersing the strong smell of wine and perfume in the room.

Looking through a curtain of rain, the lights of the opposite singing tower appeared dim and hazy.

“‘Red tower, cold gazing through rain. Pearl curtains drift with lamps…'” He took a swig of cold wine and sang half a line of a tune indistinctly.

His gaze passed over the eaves of the singing tower, looking toward more distant places.

For him, this was just an ordinary rainy night.

Yet for some unknown reason, his thoughts were inexplicably turbulent.