There were few people like Song Qian Ji. Watching him work in the fields, his movements skilled and smooth without a single wasted motion, one felt he was born to busy himself in the fields, nurturing life.

But if you had seen him composing music, playing chess, or writing poetry, you would think he was naturally refined and elegant, born to live alone on an immortal mountain in the cultivation world, a scholar whose clothes never touched dust.

It seemed he was at ease and content doing anything, and could do everything well.

He Qing Qing’s eyes rippled with laughter.

The Celestial Sound Gate was in the Southern Continent, with lofty immortal mountains; Thousand Canals Prefecture was in the Western Continent, a remote corner of the mortal world.

Tens of thousands of miles apart, with passing days and shifting stars, mountains, and waters stretched between them.

She grew increasingly busy, occupied with cultivation and many matters beyond cultivation, making decisions she had never made before or dared to imagine.

Power accompanied by responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders, yet she felt no burden at all because the feeling of control and commanding others was addictive and fascinating.

“I was born to give orders,” she thought.

Yet no matter how busy, He Qing Qing always sent people to collect news from Thousand Canals Prefecture.

She knew how many trees had been planted here, how many rivers had been dug, how many carts of silk Song Qian Ji had brought back, and how many seeds he had bought.

This was the only corner in her heart that could be considered “relaxed and warm,” like a lantern on a rainy night, a furnace in the snow.

When she finally set foot on Thousand Canals soil and saw the person she had been missing, she felt anxious, like someone approaching their hometown.

She had thought of wearing her white dress again and donning her veil because her appearance, attire, and temperament were now worlds apart from before. If Song Qian Ji met her face to face but didn’t recognize her, asking instead: “Where are you from, young lady? Do we know each other?”

Though she wouldn’t be heartbroken, she would at least feel awkward and disappointed.

Fortunately, Song Qian Ji didn’t do that.

Song Qian Ji was still the same as Song Qian Ji, whether holding a zither, wielding a sword, or grasping a sickle or hoe.

Seeing He Qing Qing silent, he let down his rolled-up sleeves and spoke first: “Would you like to sit inside?”

He Qing Qing turned her head and instructed: “Wait for me outside.”

The group of female cultivators behind her responded in unison.

People in the field watched the two walk away side by side, still dazed and entranced.

“Is that beauty a friend of Senior Brother Song?” Ji Xing patted Zhou Xiao Yun’s shoulder.

Zhou Xiao Yun came back to her senses: “She is Fellow Daoist He Qing Qing, now the head senior sister of the Celestial Sound Gate.”

He Qing Qing was famous for becoming renowned with one song at the Clarity Hearing Assembly, for rejecting the Zither Immortal and Zi Ye Wen Shu, and for her ghastly appearance.

“So she is He Qing Qing.” Ji Xing murmured, suddenly curious: “You know her? Her face has been healed!”

Zhou Xiao Yun said: “I recognize those hands.”

The evening breeze blew through the vermilion gate of Song Courtyard. That veiled woman had been completely wrapped in a white dress, exposing only a pair of slender jade hands, like freshly peeled water chestnuts, leaving a deep impression.

Ji Xing sighed: “She’s so impressive! What kind of person is she?”

Zhou Xiao Yun shook her head, her eyes showing hesitation: “I can’t say. She is very different from before.”

Once upon a time, a crowd had gathered at the outer court of the Blue Cliff Sect. Everyone came out to see her but scattered with cries of shock at her ugliness as if encountering snakes, scorpions, or demons.

Today in Thousand Canals’ capital city, the streets were again emptied as people came to watch, but this time they lost their souls due to her excessive beauty, as if meeting an immortal in a dream.

Demon or immortal, the mortal world was turned upside down. People were arrogant before and respectful after, all because of a face.

Zhou Xiao Yun sighed: “At that time, I shouldn’t have been so afraid of her. After all, Senior Brother Song once said a famous warning.”

“Which one? ‘Harvest grain in autumn, bring in clothes when it rains’?” Ji Xing stood on tiptoe, reluctant to stop looking.

He Qing Qing’s fluttering arm gauze gradually disappeared from view. The love of beauty is common to all, regardless of gender.

“Rouge-covered skull, wonderful my foot.”

“No way, sister! Does that count as a warning? It’s not even as good as ‘Harvest grain in autumn.'”

Zhou Xiao Yun’s expression became slightly solemn: “If you judge people by appearances and only see the shallow surface, you will never see the truth or become a true person.”

The people of Thousand Canals all said that a true immortal lady had come to the capital.

Her dress was adorned with hundreds of flowers, her arm gauze woven from clouds and sunset glow, her hair touched with dew, her eyes containing starlight.

The simple and honest people of Thousand Canals exhausted their imagination, vividly describing the immortal maiden’s descent after Song Qian Ji rode the silver dragon to bring water.

“Is she the Immortal Official Song’s wife, no, Dao companion?” Carpenter Liu, chosen as the worker-farmer representative, quietly inquired of Xu Kan Shan and Qiu Da Cheng, satisfying the flourishing curiosity of the broader Thousand Canals workers and farmers.

Xu Kan Shan shook his head: “Brother Song does not distinguish between beauty and ugliness, does not approach women, does not take Dao companions. The cultivation world says he is romantic and affectionate, touching flowers and stirring grass everywhere, but that’s all slander against him!”

Qiu Da Cheng chuckled: “I guess Brother Song looks at her face the same way he looks at grain growing well in the fields, with thick roots and strong sprouts.”

The two men’s acquaintance with Song Qian Ji originated from the night they escorted Meng He Ze to be questioned at the Discipline Hall and took Song Qian Ji to the Cosmic Hall.

Halfway there, they accidentally encountered Miao Yan, and they almost fell off Passing Water Bridge from the sight, yet saw Song Qian Ji pass by expressionlessly as if passing a lamppost.

Today, He Qing Qing descended from the heavens, and Song Qian Ji maintained his composed demeanor, further inspiring admiration in Xu and Qiu.

…

“Have some tea.”

He Qing Qing held the teacup, looking around Song Courtyard.

Compared to the small courtyard in the outer court of the Blue Cliff Sect, this place was more spacious, with flowers and plants competing in splendor, and a greater variety of vegetables.

Small wooden tags inscribed with plant names swayed gently in the wind, making melodious sounds like wind chimes. The flower trellises were arranged at different heights, showing the owner’s attentive care everywhere.

The wisteria had withered, but new flowers had bloomed. Bright and captivating pink crabapple blossoms, shy blue morning glories, and clusters of delicate light yellow osmanthus.

Those faint fragrances mingled in Song Qian Ji’s sleeves, floating in layers, like a distant and intricate dream.

He Qing Qing took a small sip. The chrysanthemum tea tasted light and slightly bitter. She seemed about to become intoxicated in this dream.

“Senior Brother Song, did you grow these chrysanthemums?”

After she asked, she looked up, her gaze directly meeting several clusters of white chrysanthemums swaying in the wind, identical to those spinning in her teacup.

It was as if they were mocking her for asking what she already knew, for not daring to say what she wanted to say, and thus making meaningless conversation.

He Qing Qing’s cheeks turned slightly red.

Just now, when the other person heard that people from the Celestial Sound Gate had arrived, his first reaction was to mention Immortal Lady Miao Yan.

Miao Yan was searching everywhere for the composer of “The Wind and Snow Battle Formation Melody,” which had caused a rift between her and her master, Wang Shu Yin.

Outsiders didn’t know, but the upper echelons of the Celestial Sound Gate all said she had fallen into an obsession.

She was looking for Song Qian Ji—could it be that Song Qian Ji also wanted to see her?

Amidst her jumbled thoughts, her heart was suspended, only to hear him answer: “I grow the white chrysanthemums myself, make the tea myself, and drink it myself. I don’t know if it suits your taste.”

His attitude was serious and calm.

He Qing Qing drank it all in one go, let out a breath, and her whole body relaxed:

“I know that whether I am good or bad, Senior Brother Song will never mock me.”

The topic changed too quickly, leaving Song Qian Ji somewhat confused.

He could only look at He Qing Qing, suddenly exclaiming “Ah!”

Like an aged father whose reactions had slowed, he now suddenly realized:

“Your face—”

He Qing Qing was startled. The habit of lowering her head and eyes had been abandoned by her, and she instinctively raised her face.

The warm autumn sun shone down, illuminating the young woman’s skin, which was as white as snow with a jade-like luster.

Unlike Miao Yan’s beauty, which lacked aggression, her red lips and black hair were beautiful enough to stir one’s soul.

Her magnificent jewelry did not outshine her radiance but instead made her beauty even more resplendent.

Song Qian Ji looked carefully at this face.

He Qing Qing’s heart suddenly began to race.

She had heard too many excessive compliments and had grown somewhat weary and impatient with them.

Even when disciples of the Celestial Sound Gate praised her with classical references and flowery rhetoric, she would only smile faintly.

But even if it were the same compliment, if it came from Song Qian Ji’s mouth, she would gladly listen to it again, ten times, a hundred times.

Song Qian Ji was, of course, different.

The autumn wind blew, and all the white chrysanthemums in the courtyard trembled, while the jade pendants all over the young woman’s body clinked chaotically.

He Qing Qing dared not breathe, forgot to blink, and felt that this moment was infinitely extended, so long that it seemed she would never hear him speak.

In reality, Song Qian Ji had only looked for a very brief moment.

He blinked his eyes like a calm and gentle lake under the autumn moon.

Then he softly spoke: “It must have been very painful?”

No praise, no amazement. His tone was normal, asking only three words.

He Qing Qing’s nose stung, and suddenly her vision blurred.

The tears she had sworn never to shed again fell uncontrollably.

She wiped away the tears haphazardly, shaking her head desperately: “Not painful, it was worth it!”

Song Qian Ji sighed, picked up the white porcelain teapot, and poured her another cup of chrysanthemum tea:

“Sometimes, what seems worth it now may not always be worth it.”

He Qing Qing swallowed her sobs, her voice firm, desolate, and hoarse: “I chose this myself! I will make it worth it!”

“Alright, alright, don’t cry.” Song Qian Ji patted her shoulder, “Have you eaten? What would you like to eat?”

He Qing Qing suddenly covered her face with both hands and let out a howl like a dying beast.

She burst into loud sobs.

…

Blue Cliff Sect.

Cosmic Hall on the main peak.

Today was supposed to be a joyous day of celebration for the entire sect—

The apple of the Virtual Cloud Sect Leader’s eye, the young lady of the Blue Cliff Sect, Chen Hong Zhu, had successfully broken through to the Golden Core realm last night.

The night sky over the Blue Cliff Sect had manifested an unusual phenomenon, with auspicious clouds enveloping it, as brilliant as brocade sunset clouds.

Virtual Cloud’s good mood hadn’t lasted a full day. Because of the arrival of that familiar Seven Wonders Treasure Ship and that white-clad youth, Meng He Ze.

The young sword cultivator had brought a very strange gift.

It wasn’t a magical tool or spirit stone. Many cultivators born in prestigious families or sects had never seen it or recognized it.

The atmosphere in the entire Cosmic Hall was silent, with various elders and peak masters circling the jade table, staring intently at the opened gift box.

“What is this?”

“According to what Meng He Ze said, this is called ‘millet,’ a mortal food, also known as grain.”

Everyone discussed it heatedly.

“What does sending grain mean? ‘Su’ (millet) is homophonous with ‘su’ (rustle), as in the common saying ‘the wind moves, and red flowers fall rustling down.’ ‘Su’ has the meaning of falling and withering. Could he be cursing us to perish?”

“‘Gu’ (grain) is homophonous with ‘gu’ (ancient), could he be cursing us to become ancient history? What a vicious young man!”

Virtual Cloud slammed the jade table, making the grain ears in the box tremble.

He shouted sternly: “Zhao Ren! You speak!”

Zhao Ren was covered in cold sweat, trying his utmost to hide behind a cloud-dragon-carved pillar. When he heard his name called, he emerged with a woeful face, reluctantly appearing before everyone:

“Reporting to the Sect Leader, I think Song Qian Ji just, just sent some autumn harvest specialties, with no other meaning.”

He had been controlled at the bottom of the well in Song Courtyard and had been forced to swear a poisonous oath with his Dao’s heart. After returning to the sect, how could he dare tell the truth?

He could only conceal everything with all his might, saying that all was normal in Thousand Canals Prefecture.

Thousand Canals was a barren little place, its spiritual energy and fortune repeatedly plundered, almost to nothing.

Song Qian Ji was a small cultivator not favored by the Blue Cliff Sect. Unless necessary, no one wanted to mention him.

“Communication with Song” was a serious offense.

Hearing it from Zhao Ren’s mouth that day, the people of the Blue Cliff Sect naturally felt at ease, only waiting for the quagmire of Thousand Canals Prefecture to drag down Song Qian Ji.

Who would have thought that from spring to autumn, the shadow named “Song Qian Ji” would again press down from above, enveloping the entire Blue Cliff Mountain?

Someone cursed: “Sending specialties? Is he so kind and well-intentioned? This Song Qian Ji is truly a lingering ghost!”

“Ha, he resents us for giving him the barren Thousand Canals and is sending mortal objects to show his defiance!”

“Merely a Qi Condensation cultivator, just because he has a sage backing him, he dares to slap the face of our Blue Cliff Sect!”

Virtual Cloud’s severe gaze moved away from Zhao Ren’s face.

Zhao Ren felt greatly relieved, inwardly crying bitterly.

Only to hear Virtual Cloud say: “When we gave him Thousand Canals Prefecture, the grievance was set, and there will eventually be a day of reckoning. Peak Master Zhao, this matter arose from your Zhao clan. What do you have to say?”

Zhao Tai Ji shook his sleeves and reached out to pick up the grain ear for examination: “The old ancestor is about to come out of seclusion. I will report this matter to the old ancestor.”

“Good!” Virtual Cloud took a deep breath and said in a deep voice: “Peak Master Zhao and Hong Zhu stay behind; the rest of you may leave first.”

Everyone bowed and withdrew, filing out one after another. Zhao Ren ran the fastest, disappearing in a flash.

In an instant, only three people remained in the great hall, which became empty and silent.

Zhao Tai Ji smiled: “Song Qian Ji is an enemy of the sect, and he won’t spare anyone. Shouldn’t the sect lend me a helping hand?”

“I have my arrangements,” Virtual Cloud said indifferently.

Virtual Cloud looked at his daughter, his gaze becoming loving and gentle.

While everyone was filled with righteous indignation, Chen Hong Zhu remained silent.

Since the end of the Clarity Hearing Assembly, she had spoken less and less, and the whip at her waist had been put away and unused for a long time.

But in her father’s eyes, this was a sign that his daughter had grown up and become obedient and sensible.

“Hong Zhu, what do you think?” he asked.

Chen Hong Zhu’s face was expressionless: “Without the Blue Cliff Sect, there would be no me. Daughter understands the stakes.”

“Good! This is truly my daughter.” Virtual Cloud said with satisfaction, “When you were just born, Father invited the No Appearance Monk to calculate your destiny and found a good Dao companion for you, arranging an excellent marriage. Now that you have broken through to the Golden Core, it’s time for you to formally meet your match…”

Chen Hong Zhu was slightly surprised, her brows lightly furrowing.

In the cultivation world, the relationships between prestigious families and clans were intricately intertwined. It was common practice to bind interests through marriages and accepting disciples.

She asked in a calm voice: “Which family’s disciple is it?”

“The direct line of the Wei family, the young master with the highest talent among his peers, Wei Zhen Yu!”

Virtual Cloud coughed lightly, “But that Wei Zhen Yu has been traveling far from home for many years, without a trace, and whether he is alive or dead is unknown. Everyone has long since stopped mentioning his name, so, normally, you haven’t heard of him.

“A few days ago, father discussed with the Wei clan’s old ancestor, and the candidate has been changed to the third young master, Wei Zhan Yang. Wei Zhan Yang is currently studying the Talisman Dao at the Blue Cliff Academy, and his reputation has been rising in recent years. You have seen him before at the Clarity Hearing Assembly; he has a handsome appearance. On the cliff by Colored Stone Creek in our Blue Cliff Sect, there is a poem he inscribed: ‘One day I shall ascend the highest peak, and all mountains will seem small beneath my feet.’ You remember it, right? In terms of cultivation, in terms of background, he is…”

Virtual Cloud knew his daughter’s fierce temperament and domineering temper too well, so he explained patiently, trying to appeal to her emotions first.

“I understand.” Chen Hong Zhu interrupted, hurriedly bowing, “Daughter has recently broken through and my realm is unstable. I will withdraw to closed cultivation first.”

In the cultivation world, from betrothal to actual marriage, the time could be quite long. If one wanted to delay, it could be stretched to ten or a hundred years.

Virtual Cloud was at a loss for words.

Zhao Tai Ji watched Chen Hong Zhu’s figure as she walked out of the hall and onto Passing Water Bridge, suddenly sneering: “You want to use others to kill him and drag the Wei family down as well?”

“Behind Song Qian Ji stands not only the Calligraphy Sage and the Chess Ghost but also another person.”

Virtual Cloud pointed to the top of the hall, swallowing the name that could not be spoken aloud.

Xian Jian Chen. Few people in the cultivation world knew that Song Qian Ji also had a secret relationship with Xian Jian Chen.

“Not only do we need to borrow a blade, but we also need to borrow a hidden dagger that doesn’t show its edge.”

Song Qian Ji was now in Thousand Canals, with only an empty reputation and a group of outer court disciples, without senior powerhouses stationed to protect him.

In the mortal world, arranging an assassination, killing a Qi Condensation cultivator, then erasing the clues and disavowing any connection—what difficulty was there?

It surely wouldn’t be more difficult than growing grain in wastelands or waiting for heavy rain on dry mountains.

Zhao Tai Ji’s fingertips applied force, crushing the plump grain. Unlike the Blue Cliff Sect members who were deceiving themselves, he had been keeping an eye on Song Qian Ji all along.