Tales of the Spirit Fields of Willow Sprout Village

For three years, amid the bamboo shadows of Yunqi Cottage, Gu Changqing watched the figure bent over the fields.

When she watered the barren plots with morning dew, he secretly filled in the missing pages of the spirit-planting manual.

When her clan relatives shoved her around, his bamboo flute lured away the field mice gnawing on the spirit seedlings.

Then, one night, she rushed into his courtyard holding a stalk of immortal-grade rice that shimmered with the light of a spirit vein!

“My mother’s notes have your sect’s mark in them!”

Looking at the mud in her hair, he laid out the complete Qinghe Scripture, which he had hidden for half his life. “This time, let me go with you and turn this field into hope for everyone under heaven.”