A good rain had fallen throughout the night.

In the early morning, the rainbow faded as the rain stopped, with vibrant colors stretching across the cloudy sky.

Song Qian Ji carefully swept fallen leaves and withered flowers, guiding them from the small path into the flower bed, letting them slowly decompose to enrich the soil’s nutrients and become fertilizer for new leaves on the branches.

After the summer downpour, earthworms half a foot long emerged from the ground, occupying the small path.

“You little creatures dig tunnels and loosen the soil, silently improving my soil quality with your tireless work. Looking at you, I feel compassion…”

In his previous life, he knew an old monk who constantly spoke of compassion, saying, “When sweeping, fear harming the lives of ants; cherish moths by covering lamps with gauze.” He had always sneered at such talk.

Song Qian Ji couldn’t help but laugh: “In this lifetime, I haven’t even met a monk yet, but here I am already speaking like one.” He gently picked up the earthworms, placing them one by one back into the flower bed to prevent them from being trampled.

“Go back, little ones.”

Thus, when Meng He Ze and Ji Chen entered one after another, they saw Song Qian Ji smiling and talking to earthworms.

Ji Chen’s eyes immediately reddened slightly as he murmured: “With none of us around, Brother Song is all alone.”

Without another word, Meng He Ze set down his sword, tied it on an apron, and strode toward the kitchen.

He had been out hunting, busy honing his battle techniques and improving his cultivation, while Senior Brother Song had nothing to eat or drink and could only chat with earthworms.

“Wait!” Seeing the unfavorable situation, Song Qian Ji quickly blocked him: “What are you doing?”

“Going to make noodles.” Meng He Ze was now quite proud of his noodle-making skills, after all, practice makes perfect.

“No rush, I have something to discuss with you both.” Song Qian Ji, like an empty-nest elderly cultivator, rapidly thought of a way to delay eating the noodles. “I want to recruit a Minister of Works.”

Meng He Ze was indeed curious: “What is a Minister of Works?”

“The Thousand Canals region has heavy wind and sand, with dry soil layers. Last night’s heavy rain washed away the loess, leaving silt deposits, and the waterways need dredging. For future control of sand discharge and flood drainage, for water distribution and irrigation, we can’t just dig blindly—someone needs to design it all. When the canals are dug through, we’ll also need to build bridges and roads…” Song Qian Ji thought for a moment. “The Minister of Works will oversee all construction projects and must also understand farming. Just like Agricultural Minister Liu, they will be my right-hand person.”

Meng He Ze suddenly understood.

Ji Chen muttered quietly: “I thought Brother Meng and I were Brother Song’s right and left hands.”

Song Qian Ji thought to himself, silly child, your farming skills aren’t even as good as mine.

“Any difficulties with your cultivation lately?” Song Qian Ji asked, while discreetly removing Meng He Ze’s apron.

Meng He Ze, completely unaware, pondered: “Before, when I struck with my sword, it was like an extension of my finger. Lately, I feel that although I’ve executed the sword technique, the sword hasn’t yet arrived. It’s uncomfortable like two friends gradually growing apart.”

“It’s not your problem. You need to change your sword,” Song Qian Ji said.

“Change my sword?” Meng He Ze was startled.

“An entry-level sword, no matter how carefully you use it or how well you maintain it, will eventually become inadequate. Don’t strain it further.”

Meng He Ze lowered his gaze to his sword, lovingly stroking the hilt: “That’s quite a problem. Where should I find one?”

A well-suited sword is like a friend with a compatible temperament—truly rare to find.

Ji Chen silently counted the spirit stones in his storage pouch: “Can we hire a weapon forger?”

But Song Qian Ji said: “It’s not difficult. Choose an auspicious day, and I’ll fire up the forge to try.”

Ji Chen exclaimed with surprise: “Brother Song, you also know weapon forging?”

Song Qian Ji replied: “I know a little.”

In his previous life, the Solitary Light Sword that had helped him dominate the world, and the Pure Vase currently storing the Undying Spring in his Purple Palace, were all magical tools he had forged himself.

Weapon forgers charged high fees, and ordinary rogue cultivators couldn’t afford custom-made magical tools, so he had learned some skills to barely make a living.

Disciples like Meng He Ze and Ji Chen had a long cultivation path ahead. In about three years, secret realms would frequently open in the cultivation world, with treasures and spiritual materials springing up like bamboo shoots after rain.

“Venturing into secret realms” was like a collective spring outing for disciples of major sects and great families.

Those who succeeded became famous in their youth; those who failed could be rescued by sect elders or family seniors—no shame in that.

It was also a precious opportunity for rogue cultivators and lower-level practitioners to accumulate resources.

In his previous life, Song Qian Ji had ventured in and out of dangerous places like Prison Extinction Mountain, Blood River Valley, and the Dead Sea several times before accumulating enough capital for a better life.

There was nothing to complain about—life and death were predetermined, and wealth and status were bestowed by heaven. Surviving meant you were tough; failing meant you lacked ability, and dying meant it was deserved.

He hoped that in this life, Meng He Ze and Ji Chen would grow up quickly and grow well, so they could be released to wreak havoc—no, to venture into the cultivation world.

Young people always need to go out and experience the world.

If they truly couldn’t make it through… well, there was nothing to be done.

Song Qian Ji thought resignedly, at worst, I’ll go rescue them. Hopefully, it won’t interfere with the autumn harvest.

“Senior Brother Song personally firing up the forge to make me a sword, I cannot repay such kindness—”

Meng He Ze bowed with clasped hands, tears of gratitude glistening in his eyes, then immediately rushed into the kitchen and cooked a large pot of noodles.

Ji Chen, holding his bowl, drank even the soup, praising its fresh and rustic flavor.

Song Qian Ji could only eat dutifully and thoroughly, finishing every last bit.

…

With Carpenter Liu having previously presented the curved-beam plow and becoming the Agricultural Minister, the Immortal Official’s Mansion posted notices recruiting a “Minister of Works,” causing another sensation:

“The Immortal Official’s Mansion is recruiting a Minister of Works, interested parties please apply quickly.”

“Even mortals with a single skill, who can contribute to Thousand Canals, can become close attendants to the Immortal Official.”

To get close to Immortal Official Song, like Carpenter Liu who worked alongside him, countless applicants came forward:

“My ancestors also dug waterways, and I was recently named ‘Canal-Opening Pioneer,’ am I qualified?”

“I understand how to predict the weather by observing clouds, am I qualified?”

The Thousand Canals Chicken Delivery Team was responsible for initial interviews. Anyone who proposed good suggestions for river works, even if not selected as Minister of Works, would receive appropriate rewards.

The enthusiasm was so high and the momentum so great that news even spread to neighboring Hongfu Prefecture.

Even Immortal Official Liu of Hongfu knew that Thousand Canals was holding mass interviews for a Minister of Works.

Liu Hong Shan specially wrote a letter, ostensibly inviting Song Qian Ji to Hongfu for talent selection, but actually to lure Song Qian Ji back to Hongfu Prefecture.

Song Qian Ji understood perfectly but went gladly nonetheless.

Ji Chen, not wanting to drink “inferior wine and crude tea” again, refused to come no matter what, so Song Qian Ji brought along Agricultural Minister Carpenter Liu, the farming expert.

In his previous life, Liu Hong Shan never broke through to the Nascent Soul stage until Song Qian Ji killed him in self-defense, always stuck in the awkward position of having one foot across the threshold.

Cultivation was just that cruel, with hope and despair appearing alternately.

Being stuck at a bottleneck for ten or a hundred years, even until one’s lifespan was nearly exhausted, was commonplace. Once on the path of immortality, few were content to remain stagnant.

“Brother Song, please use your Celestial Eye again to see where the flaws are in my cultivation method,” Liu Hong Shan set up a feast with fine wine and delicious food, but no longer played “The Wind and Snow Battle Formation Melody.”

Song Qian Ji thought it’s not that you have flaws somewhere—your entire being is riddled with holes like a sieve.

“Don’t rush, the time is not yet right,” he smiled calmly. “I heard that when Hongfu was building dams, someone came to present blueprints?”

Liu Hong Shan understood the meaning of his words and responded amiably: “What master? He’s just a blacksmith. Claims to have observed river flow volumes for thirty years and traveled both banks.”

Song Qian Ji asked: “Could you invite him for a meeting?”

“Easily done!” Liu Hong Shan casually instructed the ceremonial official, “Go call Iron Three Ox here. Heh, this fool is lucky this time.”

Before long, a sturdy, dark-faced man followed the ceremonial official into the hall, bowing with a lowered head, and presented a stack of drawings.

Obviously not his first time presenting plans, he still appeared nervous: “Esteemed Immortal Officials, this humble one has recorded water volume changes in detail, studied the soil geology of both banks, drawn forty water conservation maps, written three volumes of insights, one book of ‘Hydrology Notes’…”

Song Qian Ji casually leafed through, growing more pleased with each page. He shared the drawings with Carpenter Liu to appreciate, then stood up: “Would this master be willing to return with me to Thousand Canals as Minister of Works?”

Iron Three Ox stood dumbfounded: “You’re choosing me?”

Song Qian Ji bowed.

Iron Three Ox was overwhelmed with honor: “I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare.”

Song Qian Ji still said: “The accomplished one is the teacher.”

One was polite, one was excited, only Liu Hong Shan’s expression gradually grew cold.

What reason was there for a cultivator to bow to a mortal?

After Carpenter Liu led Iron Three Ox out of the great hall to pack their belongings, he earnestly reminded Song Qian Ji of the distinction between immortals and mortals:

“As an Immortal Official, you cannot be too kind to mortals, or they will lose their reverence for you. Once reverence is lost, the offering table in the temple will collapse.”

“And if the offering table collapses, what then?” Song Qian Ji continued to peruse the drawings with interest.

Liu Hong Shan raised his eyebrows and glared, urgently saying: “If the offering table collapses, the heavens will fall! If everyone stops making offerings to temples, what will this world become?!”

Song Qian Ji smiled indifferently.

Liu Hong Shan still hoped he would use the Celestial Eye, so he could only suppress his anger and remain silent.

In Song Qian Ji’s eyes, his crude skills in making watering cans for irrigation were merely at the “Qi Condensation Initial Stage” of farming.

Carpenter Liu, who had created the curved-beam plow and was currently researching improvements for other farm tools, was a “Nascent Soul powerhouse.”

This Iron Three Ox, who had a complete concept for river water storage, diversion, and utilizing terrain for field irrigation, could be considered a “Transformation Venerable” in the farming world—naturally deserving an enthusiastic welcome.

Once the climate and rainfall in Thousand Canals gradually recovered, turning a hundred barren mountains into terraced fields would not be just a dream.

Iron Three Ox boarded the Seven Wonders Treasure Ship, still feeling it was unreal, constantly pinching his thigh.

Carpenter Liu sized up his new colleague: “Thousand Canals is not as prosperous as Hongfu, brother, you should be prepared.”

Previously, people from Thousand Canals risked their lives to “illegally cross” to Hongfu. This man was the first in sixty years to voluntarily go from Hongfu to Thousand Canals, pioneering a new trend.

Facing Carpenter Liu, Iron Three Ox was not as restrained as he had been in the great hall, waving his hand cheerfully: “I’m not afraid of hardship.”

He had long prepared himself to face barren land and endure suffering.

“My home is by the river, and Hongfu suffers floods year after year…” he looked up and sighed deeply: “Though I am a blacksmith, I’ve studied reading and writing, and have aspirations. Half my life was spent studying water conservancy, six times presenting plans without success, like a pearl cast before swine. Today I leave my homeland only to validate my learning so that my skills might find a place to be used, serving a wise master.”

Carpenter Liu listened with surging emotions.

No wonder the other man was educated in Hongfu Prefecture—phrases like “pearl cast before swine” and “serving a wise master” sounded so elegant.

He also wanted to say something, and opened his mouth loudly:

“Me too!”