Under the planning of the newly appointed Minister of Works, Iron Three Ox, Thousand Canals’ water conservancy project expanded to seven main waterways. Integrating water storage, sand discharge, filtration, flood drainage, and irrigation into one system, became a massive engineering project estimated to take three years to complete.

Song Qian Ji reviewed over a hundred drawings, including concepts for dams, reservoirs, embankments, and river-spanning bridges. After touring Thousand Canals a second time, he finally approved the three-year plan.

Plans, however, couldn’t keep pace with changes. The number of people coming to work in Thousand Canals grew increasingly, though no one knew exactly when this began. They came from Hongfu Prefecture and even places beyond Hongfu.

Some brought their entire families, some came alone; some arrived with hope, expecting new lives; others came desperate, fleeing disasters, seeking only a full meal and a way to survive.

The arrival of these “New Thousand Canals People” greatly accelerated the progress of the canal projects.

Qiu Da Cheng and Xu Kan Shan calculated accounts tirelessly each day. Having spent years in gambling dens, they were skilled at calculating money and provisions.

“Next month, add six more large woks and hire twelve more cooks.”

“If we hadn’t discovered the spirit stone mine and oil well, we really couldn’t afford to feed so many canal workers.”

Ji Xing said innocently: “What’s there to worry about? My foolish brother might lack other abilities, but he certainly has plenty of money.”

Zhou Xiao Yun looked around and advised in a low voice: “Friend Ji is currently constructing the protective formation for Thousand Canals. Everyone praises him as accomplished despite his youth. You…”

Ji Xing stuck out her tongue and smiled: “Alright, alright, I won’t say it in front of others anymore. Let him save a little face, okay? Someone’s here to claim a land deed, I’m going!”

The New Thousand Canals People were more diligent and hardworking, all for the chance—after a month of work and passing the assessment—to register as Thousand Canals citizens and own a deed for three mu of barren land.

Those plots were currently uninhabited wastelands without a blade of grass, and the deeds were merely worthless pieces of paper.

Yet they still collected saplings, seeds, and farming tools, cultivating and planting with seriousness. They believed that when next year’s spring breeze blew, it would turn their hillsides green.

Xu Kan Shan sighed: “What kind of gamblers are we compared to them? They’re the real gamblers. Three generations staking their family’s entire strength on a bet, wagering only that Thousand Canals’ national fortune will grow increasingly prosperous!”

Qiu Da Cheng corrected him: “It’s a prefectural fortune. We haven’t established a nation yet.”

Because Thousand Canals Prefecture was impoverished and intentionally forgotten by the Blue Cliff Sect, Song Qian Ji was unlike previous Immortal Officials appointed by the sect.

In the hearts of Thousand Canals people, he was truly an independent ruler, even able to melt down the golden statues in the temple and convert them to currency.

Ordinary people didn’t know the extent of his cultivation, only assuming it was comparable to Immortal Official Liu from neighboring Hongfu Prefecture.

As autumn air turned crisp, the grain ears in the fields were gradually turned yellow by the western wind, until as far as the eye could see, beneath the blue sky stretched a dazzling golden vista.

Birds chirped and flapped their wings, stealing food among the grain fields.

Nourished by the mist from the Undying Spring, Thousand Canals’ first batch of ripened grain this year was no longer shriveled. The heavy grain ears drooped downward, causing the farmers to bend over with smiles as well.

Song Qian Ji walked through the grain fields, selected the three most plump stalks, cut off the ears, and carefully placed them in a spirit jade carved flower gift box.

Now within the city walls, there were many fertile fields. Thanks to the former landlords and gentry, who had bought standing-room-only tickets to leave Thousand Canals overnight, their abandoned mansions and gardens were all planted with grain and vegetables.

“What is Senior Brother Song doing?” Ji Chen, seeing Song Qian Ji packaging gifts, asked in confusion, “Keeping souvenirs?”

“Just some local specialties to send to the Blue Cliff Sect. Though cultivators abstain from grain, a small gift carries great sentiment,” Song Qian Ji said.

“Why?”

Song Qian Ji smiled: “To thank them for their painful sacrifice in giving me Thousand Canals Prefecture!”

Thank them? Ji Chen thought to himself, the Blue Cliff Sect giving you Thousand Canals Prefecture was clearly meant to punish you.

What pain did they endure? They were delighted.

Senior Brother Song truly had a generous heart, repaying enmity with virtue.

Meng He Ze knew the background. The night before Song Qian Ji left the sect, he had mentioned wanting to send local specialties back in the future.

Senior Brother Song always kept his word and did what he said.

Meng He Ze took the gift box: “I’ll make a trip out, don’t worry, Senior Brother.”

Senior Brother was too benevolent, it would be better for him to have less contact with the wolf pack at Blue Cliff Sect. Since he said he’d go, he prepared to set off immediately.

“Wait.”

Meng He Ze turned his head at the sound, only to see Song Qian Ji throw something at him: “Try this sword!”

Meng He Ze raised his hand to catch the sword.

With a humming sound, the long sword left its scabbard, a beam of light falling across his brow.

As he casually twirled the sword, he was surprised to discover that this sword’s weight and style were the same as the entry-level sword he was accustomed to, like reuniting with an old friend.

Yet when cutting through the wind, there was less resistance and greater speed, an embellishment to excellence, like adding wings to a tiger.

“This is the treasured sword Senior Brother personally forged for me!” The young man’s eyes grew warm as he softly asked: “What is its name?”

Song Qian Ji smiled: “Your sword—the name must be given by you.”

With the sword in hand, seeming to hold a scoop of autumn moonlight, Meng He Ze showed a shy expression: “I, I need to think carefully about it.”

“Go now, and mind your attitude. By no means engage in disputes,” Song Qian Ji also stuffed a stack of talismans into his hand, while smoothing the creases on his lapel, like an old father preparing his son’s luggage.

Meng He Ze saluted with clasped hands: “I will definitely deliver the items, and I will return!”

Ji Chen hurriedly chased after him: “Brother Meng, could you take me with you?”

Song Qian Ji smiled, lowered his head to cut grain, and enjoyed the pleasure of harvest.

He allowed the autumn wind to caress him, with sparrows chirping around.

Before the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, shouts arose again. Ji Chen had abandoned Meng He Ze and hurried back: “Brother Song, someone is looking for you—”

Song Qian Ji was getting into the rhythm of harvesting and didn’t raise his head: “Let them come.”

Ji Chen rushed up to him and excitedly said: “It’s an otherworldly beauty, with eighteen female cultivators from the Celestial Sound Gate in attendance, such a grand display!”

Song Qian Ji unconsciously frowned, his sickle continuing without pause: “Miao Yan?”

I have no grudges or enmity with you in this life. What are you doing here?

Ji Chen gesticulated wildly, speaking incoherently: “It’s not Immortal Lady Miao Yan! It’s, it’s—she’s the kind of beauty that makes one’s body go cold—”

Suddenly, a woman’s voice sounded from not far away: “It’s me.”

Song Qian Ji paused slightly at the sound, put down his sickle, and straightened up.

Miao Yan’s voice was always soft and lovely, entering the ear gently with the wind, ethereal and distant.

This woman’s voice, however, was somewhat cold and clear. The two words she uttered were like jade shattering on a fine platter, resonant and definitive.

Ji Chen silently moved aside.

More than ten female cultivators from the Celestial Sound Gate retreated to both sides, their skirts swaying gently, overflowing with immortal aura, like white flowers blooming in sequence.

That person stepped forward slowly, yet like a sharp blade piercing through a flowerbed.

She wore a scarlet long dress, layered heavily, adorned with countless ornaments and tassels. As she moved, her jade pendants clinked, and her arm gauze fluttered.

Among the competing flowers of spring, only she emanated a piercing cold light, her brilliant colors like a knife.

Her entire bearing was extremely unsuited to the busy farming scene. The surroundings fell silent for a moment, followed by consecutive gasps.

Before the beauty, Song Qian Ji had his sleeves rolled up, his hem spattered with mud spots.

He smiled slightly and casually greeted: “You’ve come.”