Ji Chen had been a fool before. During the bitter times when he struggled to study calligraphy without success, when people flattered him to his face but mocked him behind his back, he knew how that felt.

Some people, once they rise, bully others even more viciously. Ji Chen was not such a person. No matter his circumstances, he didn’t want to make things difficult for another fool.

Now, seeing Wei Ping with his unremarkable appearance, ordinary cultivation, and dazed expression, he actively advised Meng He Ze:

“Hold your tongue for now.”

“Greetings, Friend Wei. I am Ji Chen, formation master under Song Manor, pleased to meet you.” Ji Chen stepped forward and bowed.

“Oh, hello, hello.” Wei Ping remained in a daze, responding absently, then continued: “There is a path, there is a path.”

Ji Chen thought he was talking about the country road: “The path has always been here, can’t you see it?”

Wei Ping smiled: “Ha, me? I’ve only truly seen it today.”

Ji Chen turned back glumly, nudging Meng He Ze with his elbow, his eyes suggesting “Let’s just forget about it.”

Meng He Ze twisted his sword hilt, saying angrily: “Wei Ping!”

Wei Ping awoke as if from a dream as if just noticing the two: “You’ve also come to thresh grain? On behalf of the whole village, I welcome both Senior Brothers.”

“Who’s your Senior Brother? Stop pretending to be crazy. Watch me tear off your fake skin!” Meng He Ze shook his sword hilt, activating sword energy.

“Ah, Senior Brother, what are you doing!” Wei Ping bent backward, the sword energy grazing his nose tip and hitting the person-high grain pile behind him.

The grain pile collapsed with a rumble, spilling like flowing gold.

Ji Chen hurriedly intervened: “Brother Meng, you must not!”

Meng He Ze had already drawn his sword: “He’s only at the Qi Condensation stage, how could he dodge my sword energy? He must be hiding something, just watch!”

The sword blade reflected the sunset glow on the horizon. Haystacks exploded, straw fragments flying everywhere, covering all three of them.

Wei Ping was flailing about in a clumsy, awkward manner, yet like a slippery fish, he always managed to narrowly avoid each strike.

Meng He Ze’s eyes turned bloodshot: “Wei Ping, if you’re a man, fight back!”

Ji Chen tried to block from left and right, afraid Meng He Ze would hurt Wei Ping, and also afraid Meng He Ze would hit himself.

Wei Ping’s clothes were in tatters, exposing his chest: “If Senior Brother wants to beat me, of course, I dare not fight back. Wow, that sword was fierce! Who taught Senior Brother his swordsmanship? It’s so bold and intense!”

“Ah!” Until a cry of alarm sounded.

Liu the Carpenter was seen looking devastated: “It’s over, the grain for people and the straw for cattle are all mixed together!”

Amid the chaos on the ground, the three young men all stopped, lowering their heads and fidgeting with their hands.

Ji Chen was the first to apologize with a smile: “Lord Agricultural Officer, Brother Liu, Old Brother Liu, we didn’t mean it. We’ll sort it out right away. Cultivators work quickly—it’s a small problem.”

Wei Ping: “It’s my fault, I don’t know how I just…”

He turned his head to look at Meng He Ze but saw that the other had already picked up a broom and winnowing basket with a dark face, showing an attitude of acknowledging his mistake through labor. The latter half of his sentence “…angered Senior Brother” changed to “…started fighting,” his tone surprisingly normal.

Thus cleaning up the mess, the three had no choice but to work together.

The autumn wind was cool, the stars were twinkling, and the moon emerged from the night clouds, watching them sweating profusely and hindering one another.

Wei Ping was the most diligent and efficient at farm work. Seeing this, Ji Chen mediated: “Brother Meng, he’s not like you described.”

Meng He Ze muttered: “He’s best at putting on an act to deceive people.”

Until the fourth watch of the night, the threshing floor was barely cleaned up to a presentable state.

The three, covered in dust and dirt, collapsed on the high haystack, panting like oxen, looking nothing like cultivators.

Ji Chen lay in the middle to prevent the two sides from fighting, moaning repeatedly: “I’ve never done this before! It’s my first time. Haven’t we shared hardship now?”

Voices from both left and right sounded simultaneously:

“I, Meng He Ze, a seven-foot man standing tall and upright, would never share hardship with that sissy!”

“Senior Brother Meng is such a renowned figure, naturally he looks down on me.”

Wei Ping jumped down from the haystack: “You two rest. I need to go back to Song Manor to prepare a night snack. A night snack should have at least three types of small steamed buns and three types of pastries—one can’t just boil a bowl of noodles to get by.”

Meng He Ze widened his eyes, his voice trembling:

“How could he say such a thing? Chen, did you hear that? He’s gloating and being too insulting!”

“Yes, yes. Don’t bother with him.”

Ji Chen consoled him verbally, but thought to himself: isn’t this the truth?

…

Wei Ping was diligent and sweet-tongued, volunteering for the dirtiest and hardest work, striving to become a qualified steward.

Inspired by the autumn harvest and farm work, he created a “foot-powered thresher,” earning continuous praise from Qianqu’s farmers.

He chatted with Liu the Carpenter by the waterway, working together to build a large water wheel that used the power of flowing water to irrigate farmland.

Although he didn’t stand out in Meng He Ze’s hunting team, he wasn’t a burden either. If anyone treated him coldly, he would just smile, making them embarrassed to continue ostracizing him.

Later, he mixed sixteen types of seasonings in specific proportions, creating a unique meat marinade named “Qianqu Sixteen Spices.” Game meat marinated with this spice powder could retain its fresh flavor and lock in juices. When lightly roasted, it was crispy outside and tender inside, with a special rich aroma that would drift for ten li with the wind.

When the outer disciples who formed the hunting team saw him, they thought of fragrant roasted meat and naturally became friendly with him.

Besides managing Song Qian Ji’s meals and expenses, Wei Ping also handled all trivial matters for him apart from farming: agriculture and animal husbandry, waterway, and road construction, Tian City planning, building private schools, helping new immigrants settle, and so on.

Whenever there was something in various parts of Qianqu that needed Immortal Official Song’s attention and decision, it would first be reported to Wei Ping, who would wait for a response.

Steward Wei smiled at everyone he met. Before they knew it, he had conquered Qianqu like a gentle spring rain.

Only Meng He Ze remained a block of ice, stubbornly resistant.

As for Zhou Xiao Yun, who had been the most supportive of Meng He Ze among Huawei Sect’s outer disciples, and Ji Xing, who had frantically campaigned for Meng He Ze during the Grand Assembly, they had already begun to find Wei Ping increasingly appealing amid the sweet fragrance of pastries, cakes, and snacks.

Zhou Xiao Yun deftly opened the food box, saying polite words:

“Steward Wei, finished with your work? Why do you have time to come over today? Just come if you want to come, why bring lunch? Oh, what soup is this?”

Wei Ping held out a small white porcelain bowl: “Red Beauty Flower stewed with snow frog, the ingredients were bought from Hongfu County through someone’s help, and the recipe came from the Celestial Sound Sect. It helps female cultivators nourish their beauty and brighten their skin.”

“This soup, I haven’t had it since I left home,” Ji Xing sniffed sharply. “Little Ping, you have such a gentle temperament and excellent cooking skills. Having you is truly our good fortune!”

Another food box opened, containing oily lotus leaf-wrapped chicken, crispy and fragrant sesame flatbread, and a pot of newly brewed osmanthus wine.

“Ah, I knew Steward Wei wouldn’t forget us!” Xu Kan Shan tore off a chicken leg.

Qiu Da Cheng’s face lit up with joy: “Such fragrant wine, it has the flavor of the Fortune-Bringing Tavern in Huawei City. I could find it with my eyes closed—besides the gambling den, it’s the tavern!”

Wei Ping smiled: “Are you two familiar with Huawei City?”

“Of course, Old Xu and I are city people, to begin with!”

With food and drink, they opened up, revealing all their backgrounds to Wei Ping. They talked about meeting Song Qian Ji during the night trial, the rescue at Star-Plucking Terrace, and the outcome of that shocking gambling event.

“In the vast sea of humanity, who knows where that kid who spent ten thousand spirit stones is now? Does he know how much he made us suffer?”

Wei Ping had been listening all along, then suddenly interjected: “Winning the bet is good, isn’t it? Why curse him?”

Qiu Da Cheng raged: “Good my ass! In a gambling event with over a hundred thousand people, there were only two winners. How could that be good?”

Xu Kan Shan sneered: “We made enemies with everyone! All the gambling dens in Huawei City won’t let us in anymore. Anyone who participated in that gambling event said they wouldn’t play with us anymore! Life lost its joy, and we were also charged by the sect with ‘colluding with Song,’ forcing us to flee for our lives overnight. Fortunately, Senior Brother Song took us in! Forget it, let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“I see.” Wei Ping showed a sympathetic expression: “That betting boy was truly detestable, irresponsible, and inhuman. Here, have a piece of pastry.”

“If I ever meet him again—” Xu Kan Shan viciously bit into a piece of pastry, chewing forcefully.

The ever-understanding Steward Wei: “We’ll beat him up together.”

Qiu Da Cheng tore at the roast chicken: “Hmm, good brother!”

…

At every mealtime, Wei Ping would arrange dishes for Song Qian Ji at Song Manor. Meng He Ze, concerned, often brought Ji Chen along at mealtimes to accompany Song Qian Ji, claiming to test for poison.

The four ate at the same table, with Meng and Wei fighting subtly in the shadows. Openly, Ji Chen was carefree and somewhat dense, while Song Qian Ji couldn’t understand the complex atmosphere, even remarking while eating that the three were like brothers.

When the dishes were empty, soup was served, milky-white broth in a jade bowl.

Song Qian Ji tasted a sip, savoring the flavor, and murmured: “The soup has been different lately.”

Meng He Ze slammed the table and grabbed Wei Ping’s collar: “What trick are you playing!”

Wei Ping smiled and allowed himself to be grabbed: “Recently, I’ve added three spiritual herbs to the soup. Sir Song, can you taste how it’s more deliciously sweet than usual, with a lingering aftertaste on the tongue?”

“Little Meng, let go.” Song Qian Ji put down his soup spoon.

Meng He Ze reluctantly released his grip: “I’m sorry.”

Song Qian Ji said: “Wei Ping, without the support of a sect or family behind you, gathering spiritual herbs is already difficult enough. How could you waste them like this?”

“Giving it to Senior Broth—” Wei Ping looked at Meng He Ze’s expression and changed his words, “Giving it to Sir is not a waste; they would all be honored.”

“Don’t add them anymore. I don’t need them.” Song Qian Ji refused.

Spiritual herbs should be refined into pills to maximize their medicinal properties. Using them directly in dishes was too extravagant—only wealthy high-level cultivators would do such a thing.

Song Qian Ji, possessing the Immortal Spring, had his meridians nourished day and night. Ordinary spiritual herbs were like chicken ribs to him—of little value.

Wei Ping nodded disappointedly.

Song Qian Ji: “I have some words for Little Meng.”

Wei Ping, understanding as always, took his leave: “I’ll go wash the dishes.”

Meng He Ze’s eyes brightened, and he raised his head like a victorious rooster: “Go quickly!”

As soon as Wei Ping left, he eagerly asked: “What important matters do you have for me, Senior Brother? Now that the Wei surname fellow is gone, please instruct me.”

Song Qian Ji: “The weather has been good lately. Pack your things and prepare to leave Qianqu for a while.”

“What?” Meng He Ze’s smile instantly froze, his face turning pale: “You’re sending me away? You trust Wei Ping more than me?!”

Song Qian Ji couldn’t understand: “What does this have to do with Wei Ping?”

Meng He Ze’s eyes reddened: “How is it not related? He must have complained to you about the night snack wind, right?!”

What night snack wind?

Song Qian Ji didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “Nothing of the sort. I just think you should attempt to form your Golden Core, and before secluding yourself for a breakthrough, traveling to broaden your horizons would benefit you in the future. You once said you wanted to see the magnificent mountains and rivers, to travel throughout the cultivation world, yet you’ve been confined to Huawei Sect and Qianqu County.”

Compared to the Evil Path Master who had weathered great storms in his previous life, Meng He Ze’s experiences in this life were like a fish in shallow waters. Although he had defended villages against fierce beasts at the edge of the Poisonous Miasma Forest, honing his battle skills, he had never been tempered by the world and still retained a childish air.

Meng He Ze lowered his head: “Senior Brother’s intentions are good.”

“You have three tasks to complete on this journey down the mountain,” Song Qian Ji said.

Meng He Ze rushed to answer: “I will bring glory to our Qianqu, our hunting team, and our Song Manor!”

“No, see the world, give your sword a good name, and bring your entire family to Qianqu.”

Although the trajectory of fate had changed, with the red jade prayer beads appearing again, Song Qian Ji still remembered the disaster that wiped out Meng He Ze’s entire family in his previous life.

“…Ah, I didn’t guess any of them correctly.” Meng He Ze scratched his head, then smiled:

“I’ve been missing my parents too. I was always afraid I couldn’t return home in glory, so I didn’t dare to visit.”

“The cultivation world is full of turbulent waves and cold human relationships, unlike Huawei Sect and Qianqu County. I have three more things to enjoin upon you.” Song Qian Ji took a sip of chrysanthemum tea.

“Please speak, Senior Brother.”

“First, although your red jade prayer beads are a treasure, they are perfect as a secret treasure for healing and saving lives, but should not be used for attack.”

Meng He Ze responded without hesitation: “I understand!”

“Second, I know you are a sword cultivator, but don’t underestimate escape techniques. The Five Elements Escape method I taught you still needs diligent practice.”

In his previous life, Song Qian Ji excelled at escaping death, creating escape techniques that reached miraculous levels, allowing him to escape death many times—except for the last time.

Meng He Ze: “I’ll keep it firmly in mind!”

Since coming to Qianqu County, Meng He Ze had grown taller more quickly, his features shedding their immaturity.

Sometimes when Song Qian Ji looked at his face, he gradually saw the familiar shadow of his previous life.

“Third, once you enter the mortal world, grudges are hard to resolve. When using your sword, leave room for maneuver; don’t actively make enemies. If there are misunderstandings, resolve them promptly. If you encounter someone who is determined to kill you—”

Meng He Ze, hearing his calm tone, thought that Senior Brother Song was kind-hearted, unwilling to even step on earthworms after rain, and eagerly answered:

“Repay enmity with virtue. I won’t kill him; I’ll convert him!”

He said this only to make Song Qian Ji happy and reassured before leaving.

Song Qian Ji’s vision darkened: “No, of course you must kill! If you can’t kill them, send me a message, and I will kill them for you!”

Meng He Ze was stunned: “Huh?”

Song Qian Ji, fearing he hadn’t taken it to heart: “Have you remembered? Repeat it!”

Meng He Ze: “Send you a message, and you will go to…”

He couldn’t continue and changed his words: “I stand upright and walk honorably, bright and open. If heaven has eyes, it should be on my side.”

Would Senior Brother kill someone?

He had only seen Wei Ping kill chickens, boiling water and plucking feathers, splattered with blood. After saving him at the broken cliff, Song Qian Ji never picked up a sword, never practiced swordsmanship and hadn’t even killed a chicken.

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “The Heavenly Dao has no eyes. Don’t entrust your life to luck.”

Why would the Heavenly Dao side with you? Because you look good? You’re not Wei Zhen Yu.

Ji Chen’s expression subtly changed: “Brother Meng, just agree, don’t let Senior Brother Song worry.”

The miserable state of Zhao Ren flashed before his eyes.

Friend Zhao, it’s a pity you left too early. Brother Meng hasn’t seen how Senior Brother Song acts, that’s why he dares not respond.

When will you return? I’ve practiced a new formation that I haven’t tried on a living person yet. I miss you.

Meng He Ze: “I promise.”

Song Qian Ji made a light “hmm” sound: “That’s all. You may go.”

Meng He Ze put down his sword and bowed.

Ji Chen: “Brother Meng, I’ll see you off.”

Song Qian Ji sat in his lounge chair, watching the two leave side by side, his eyes containing a smile.

It was the time between autumn and winter when the phoenix tree leaves were falling.

Meng He Ze had to admit that with Wei Ping managing the Immortal Official’s Mansion, it was more orderly and presentable than when they had first arrived.

Meng He Ze: “When I was in the outer sect of Huawei Sect, I loved saying two phrases. Zhou Xiao Yun and the others heard them so much their ears grew calluses!”

“Which two phrases?” Ji Chen was curious.

Meng He Ze pretended to be angry and shouted: “Don’t bully a poor youth, my fate is in my hands, not heaven’s!”

The sound echoed through the Immortal Official’s Mansion.

Ji Chen clapped: “Haha, well said, just like something you would say.”

Meng He Ze smiled faintly: “Thinking about it now, the first phrase isn’t entirely correct. A youth is poor, so when an Elder glares at you, you feel the whole world is bullying you and against you, but in reality, the world doesn’t care about you at all. The second phrase isn’t entirely correct either—” He looked back at Song Manor, where vermilion gates were surrounded by falling leaves, yet it didn’t appear desolate, only a brilliant sea of gold,

“Fate, to some extent, cannot be forced, heaven doesn’t obey me; as for the Dao, with a bright heart, I don’t obey heaven!”

Ji Chen was stunned: “With a bright heart, I don’t obey heaven…”

Meng He Ze had already put his arm around Ji Chen’s shoulder, quickly saying in a low voice: “I’m off. Take good care of Senior Brother Song, and keep an eye on Wei Ping. The formations of Song Manor, Tian City, and Qianqu must never be handed over to that fellow.”

“Understood!” Ji Chen felt the heavy responsibility, and overnight, he had become the pillar of the household: “How long will you be gone?”

Meng He Ze looked back with a smile: “Of course, I can’t be at ease about Qianqu. When it snows, you’ll see me again.”

…

By the time the first snow fell, Qianqu County already had 150,000 households. Mule and horse caravans from Hongfu came and went, merchants settled on the streets of Tian City, bringing silk, cotton, porcelain, and jewelry, hanging up their shop signs, lighting lanterns, and the markets were gradually gaining momentum.

Thousands of homes were decorated with lanterns and colorful ornaments, but Meng He Ze had not yet returned home.

Wei Ping described visions of Qianqu’s future to Hongfu merchants, rented out Qianqu’s shops and stalls, and organized Qianqu merchant teams to regularly visit Hongfu, bringing specially made seasonings, fragrances, wines, and so on, increasing trade between the two counties.

He was like an industrious hamster, trying to store food for the winter before it arrived.

Song Qian Ji advised him: “You don’t need to work so hard.”

“I don’t feel it’s laborious, Sir Song. Today I was walking on the street and saw that the people of Qianqu were also wearing new cotton clothes. Standing next to the people of Hongfu, there was almost no difference, and that made me happy.”

Due to his busy schedule in recent days, Song Manor’s Nine-Palace Grid had only six palaces to eat.

Today, Wei Ping finally had some free time. He brought out the hot pot and charcoal fire, cut and washed ingredients, preparing to cook a proper hot pot meal.

He had almost forgotten how he lived before coming to Song Manor.

The passing glamour was like ink diffusing in water, dissipating amid firewood, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and tea.

The vegetation in Song Manor had withered, but the white jade plum flowers were still blooming, with petals covered in light snow, their subtle fragrance drifting.

On the stone table, a thin layer of snow particles had been sprinkled, as if someone had spilled a salt shaker.

Wei Ping put down the charcoal basin and suddenly stopped, his eyes seemingly pierced by something.

A red leaf appeared at the edge of the stone table. Amid the vast whiteness of snow, it was like a splatter of glaring blood.

There were no maple trees in Song Manor, nor any red leaves in all of Tian City.

From the kitchen to the stone table was only twenty-six zhang, but this leaf had appeared mysteriously; he hadn’t sensed anything.

Wei Ping picked up the red leaf, startled awake, turning to look around.

There was no one in the courtyard. Coldness spread from his fingertips throughout his body, making his teeth chatter.

That matter, which he had almost completely forgotten, finally resurfaced. It was the true purpose of his coming to Qianqu.

—”The assassination pact, with a red leaf as proof.”

“What’s wrong?” A light voice sounded.

Wei Ping turned around to see Song Qian Ji wearing a black fox fur cloak, stepping through the vermilion gate, standing amid the light snowfall.