On winter mornings, the sun rises late and daylight comes slowly.

Outside the paper windows fell tiny, fragmented snowflakes. Among the faint, rustling sounds occasionally came cracking noises—dried branches and haystacks bending under accumulated snow.

This year’s snowflakes must have truly fallen in love with Thousand Channels, falling again and again, lingering intimately.

The colder the weather, the more alluring the warmth of heated brick beds and stoves. Nobody enjoys rising early in winter, yet today Thousand Channels lit up early, with joyful voices rising from all directions as neighbors greeted each other:

“Happy Festival! Abundant harvest for the Harvest Festival, and abundant harvest for next year too!”

“The team our village sent will win a prize and get to shake hands with Celestial Official Song!”

Before Thousand Channels Market had opened, families throughout Tian City were already leaving their homes. People hung lanterns outside their doors, illuminating the night one lamp at a time.

Husbands lit lamps and pasted window flowers, while mothers dressed their children in new clothes, combing their hair and tying red strings.

Then each family lit incense and candles, paying respect at the small shrine dedicated to the Celestial Official.

The shrine was discreetly embedded in the wall, with a curtain hanging in front. Only when the curtain was lifted could one see the exquisite, lifelike statuette of the Celestial Official.

Carpenter Liu’s inspiration flowed like a spring; each home’s Celestial Official statue had a different posture—standing or sitting, serious or smiling, dressed in formal attire or white robes.

Using the wooden figures crafted by the Agricultural Officials as models, artisans from various regions created innovations, applying colorful yet tasteful pigments.

One bow before sleep marked the end of the day, ensuring peaceful rest. One bow after waking marked the official start of the day, ensuring steady work.

Except for the night he got drunk on fruit wine, Song Qian Ji lived with extreme regularity, waking at almost the same time regardless of the season.

He pushed open the door and took several breaths, filling his lungs with the cold, fresh morning air.

A row of small sparrows in front of the steps fluttered their wings at the sound, yet they weren’t afraid of him. They seemed to kindly make way for him, unhurriedly landing on plum blossom branches.

The snow had stopped. A waning moon and two sparse stars hung among the curved, vigorous plum branches, emitting a faint glow before dawn.

Song Qian Ji walked to the courtyard and had just picked up a broom when he suddenly halted: “This isn’t good.”

The gray sparrows alertly turned their black, round eyes, flapping their wings and shaking off some accumulated snow onto his shoulders, as if asking what could be wrong with such a beautiful scene.

“My cultivation is about to rise again? Even with the Undying Spring, it shouldn’t increase this quickly.”

The river was frozen and the water hadn’t risen, yet Song Qian Ji’s cultivation was rising like spring water.

Some cultivators desperately seek breakthroughs, consuming excessive pills. After breaking through, their realm remains unstable, their spiritual energy floating superficially.

Other cultivators lay solid foundations, not using spiritual energy to impact bottlenecks, but repeatedly strengthening their meridians. Only when their foundation is solid do they retreat into seclusion to break through?

Song Qian Ji had always compressed the spiritual energy within his body, suppressing his realm.

Now his “foundation” was too solid with nowhere else to strengthen. If he took one more step forward, he could only ascend to the next level.

Song Qian Ji closed his eyes. The smoky, fog-like spiritual energy in his meridians continuously contracted, gradually condensing into several drops of silver liquid that gently trembled.

The sky gradually brightened. The winter morning sun broke through the thin mist, and the accumulated snow in the courtyard reflected a bright, brilliant silver light in the sunshine.

Song Qian Ji opened his eyes. The snow was dazzlingly bright. His clothes and hair were dampened by morning dew as he exhaled a long breath of white vapor:

“I hope nothing happens today. Otherwise…”

“Master Song!” Wei Ping entered carrying a food box. “Please have breakfast.”

Usually dressed in simple, plain clothes, today he wore a new jacket in clear-sky blue with white fur trim around the collar, making his ordinary face appear warm and lovable.

Song Qian Ji ate steaming hot century egg and lean meat porridge along with thin, crispy pancakes smeared with sauce. Wei Ping wiped his hands and fastened a thick black fox fur cloak around him.

The guard team waited at the Celestial Official’s Mansion gate to escort Song Qian Ji onto the palanquin.

As the walking palanquin entered Thousand Channels Market, the accumulated snow melted and the temperature instantly rose. Red silk banners fluttered throughout the market, brilliantly red like fire in the sunlight, with colorful ribbons stretched across the sky like rainbow bridges.

Thousands gathered along both sides of the street, with cheers that shook the heavens.

Song Qian Ji somewhat uncomfortably waved his hand, triggering even more screams.

When other county Celestial Officials occasionally traveled, solemn ceremonial music would play while commoners knelt on the ground to receive them, hardly daring to breathe.

Song Qian Ji’s procession, however, gave people a peculiar feeling: as if the wooden carvings, clay sculptures, or bronze statues secretly enshrined in their homes had suddenly come alive, transforming into a real person who was now approaching them, surrounded by guards.

“It’s Celestial Official Song! The real Celestial Official Song has come!”

“Happy Festival, Celestial Official Song! Look at me!”

“Ah, he just glanced at me!”

Along the route, river workers wearing soft armor and holding shields, having been trained and rehearsed, separated the crowd to leave a path for the palanquin while loudly maintaining order:

“No pushing, no chasing, no throwing flowers, fruits, embroidered handkerchiefs, undergarments, or any miscellaneous items—”

Song Qian Ji thought they might as well place a sign by his feet reading “No feeding, photos five silver pieces.”

Steward Wei maintained his smile. The curve of his lips remained rigidly unchanged, yet his eyes vigilantly scanned all around.

He looked up, his gaze piercing through the excited crowd toward the open windows along the street.

“All second and third floors of Thousand Channels Market have been cleared, with people guarding each window—all rooftops must also be manned.”

“If you see anyone suspicious, immediately signal me. Everyone works hard this once, and I’ll treat everyone to barbecue.”

When Xu Kan Shan and Qiu Da Cheng heard his arrangements, they thought he was merely concerned about crowd trampling, or that someone might get too excited seeing the Celestial Official and rush toward the palanquin to hug or shake hands, frightening the reclusive Song Qian Ji:

“Manager Wei, don’t mention it. We’re all working for a smooth Harvest Festival—it’s no hardship.”

Wei Ping also looked toward the roof tiles and eaves, secretly nodding.

“I need you to set up a Blade Net Formation in Thousand Channels Market. If anyone causes trouble and the guard team doesn’t react in time, you act immediately.”

“Brother Wei, on the festival day there will be a sea of people, all eyes watching. In broad daylight, who would dare cause trouble without seeking death? A mouthful of spit from each person could drown them.” Ji Chen said lazily. “Isn’t the original Thousand Channels protective formation enough? It’s a major festival—you don’t want to kill people, do you?”

Wei Ping’s attitude was firm: “I don’t want protective formations; I want killing formations. Do you have one that can kill a Golden Core cultivator in one strike and leave a Yuan Ying cultivator half-dead?”

“Brother Wei, what level of cultivation do I have? How long have I been studying formations? If you want my killing formation to have that kind of power, it can only be activated once.”

Wei Ping: “That’s enough. The opponent only has one chance too.”

Ji Chen pitifully yawned: “It’s so cold today. You dragged me out of my warm bed to stand in the wind, and now I have to listen to you ordering me to set up formations. Considering such deep brotherly affection, won’t you consider my sister?”

Wei Ping patted his messy bedhead: “I’ll grill meat for you.”

“I don’t want your grilled meat; I want you to consider my sister.”

“Fine, fine, consider your sister it is.”

Between coaxing and tricking, Wei Ping ultimately obtained a formation from Ji Chen.

The walking palanquin arrived at the edge of the high platform in the center of Thousand Channels Market and slowly descended.

With Ji Xing’s crisp announcements, Song Qian Ji went on stage and took his seat, with Wei Ping standing behind him.

On his left and right were his right-hand men, Agricultural Official Carpenter Liu and Works Official Iron San Niu.

Finally came the moment Song Qian Ji had been most looking forward to—various crops like rice, corn, sugarcane, mung beans, soybeans, and different types of potted plants made their appearances one after another.

Whether he asked about how much water to give each day during cultivation or what fertilizer to use, the contestants answered fluently, eager to share all they knew.

Song Qian Ji inwardly exclaimed with satisfaction: “When the Hua Wei Sect held the Imperial Court Assembly, someone also held a ‘Flower Appreciation Meeting’ in a small building. I heard there were various famous flowers, so I went with interest, only to find they were just a group of amateurs who didn’t understand the way of flower cultivation. Today’s ‘Harvest Festival’ that I’m holding truly lives up to its name.”

Such plump seeds, each with a rich luster; such vibrant seedlings, sprouting emerald buds even in winter.

So many farming experts and agricultural specialists gathered in one place.

Ji Xing announced loudly: “After a round of intense competition, the ‘Bridge Repair Team Home to Plant Beans’ team from River East Village, with their six jin of soybeans, has emerged victorious and won the Harvest Festival first prize. Agricultural Official, please present the award. Representatives, please come on stage to receive the award.”

Song Qian Ji extended his hand: “Congratulations.”

The River East Village headman gasped and fell straight backward.

Song Qian Ji quickly reached out to support him.

A fellow villager patted the headman’s face with cool snow: “You can’t faint! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—if you faint, you won’t get to shake his hand! The painters are already down below!”

The headman immediately regained consciousness and firmly grasped Song Qian Ji’s hands: “Celestial Official Song, thank you!”

Song Qian Ji: “It is I who should thank you, sir. I have gained much today.”

The crowd below looked on with envy:

“Now their entire village has brought honor to their ancestors. It’s all because their headman is clever—he brought a cook to the competition who demonstrated boiled beans, fried beans, and braised beans on the spot. So fragrant!”

“Our village isn’t bad either. The merchants from Hong Fu just saw our cotton and want to order a batch. They’re ready to pay a deposit now.”

At the height of excitement, Thousand Channels Market was almost flipped by the noise of the crowd.

Wei Ping hadn’t relaxed his vigilance at all. Only when the competition was settled and Song Qian Ji was waving goodbye, descending from the high platform toward the palanquin, did he exhale?

The festival wasn’t over yet. Thousand Channels Market still had lion and dragon dances parading through the streets, a thousand fireworks lighting up the sky, opera troupes performing on stage, and free hot rice milk being distributed—enough to make every person in Thousand Channels laugh and celebrate.

But what Song Qian Ji had most looked forward to was complete, and he was about to return to the mansion.

Wei Ping followed behind Song Qian Ji, his nerves relaxing, finally feeling the festival atmosphere, his lips spreading into a natural smile.

Just at that moment, a flash of blade light shone in the crowd, reflecting the sunlight, as dazzling as snow.