I gain ten years' worth of cultivation every day, and even geniuses will only see my doorstep!

Old Huai was leaving the Muddy Realm for the first time. His trousers were rolled up to his knees, his legs still covered in dried mud. He wore new straw sandals, woven from reeds, which rustled as he walked. He sat in the meeting hall at the summit of all realms, unsure of what to do with his hands or feet. The people around him wore all sorts of clothes he had never seen before, speaking languages ​​he couldn't understand. He huddled in his chair, unsure where to look.

Qin Yuan walked over to him, sat down, and poured him a glass of water. The water was cold, and the glass was transparent, so you could see if there were any impurities in the water.

Old Huai held the cup, his hands trembling. Water spilled, splattering onto the back of his hand. "I never imagined I'd be here in my entire life."

Qin Yuan said, "You should come often in the future."

Old Huai didn't speak. He drank the water in the cup dry. The water went down his throat, cool, and the coolness went from his chest all the way to his stomach. He put down the cup, placed his hands on his knees, and his fingers stopped trembling.

An oversight committee was established. It consisted of thirty-one people, with an average age of over fifty, and none of them knew cultivation. Their first task was to review the rescue team's accounts. The ledgers were piled on the table, half a person's height. They couldn't recognize the characters in the spiritual energy ledger, couldn't understand the numbers, and were even less able to decipher the list of storage artifacts.

Qin Yuan didn't teach them to read; instead, he taught them to ask questions. "Who spent this money? Where was it spent? Why was it spent?" These three questions were easy for everyone to understand.

The rescue team members stood at the table, explaining each item one by one. The committee members listened attentively, asking questions repeatedly if they didn't understand. Old Huai asked the most questions, sometimes asking a question three times before he felt reassured.

He discovered an unclear expense. A large quantity of elixirs had been purchased, but their purpose was not specified. A young member of the rescue team explained, "For backup." Old Huai said, "Even backups need to be clearly stated. What are they for? Who will use them? When will they be used?"

The young man blushed and lowered his head to add explanations to the ledger. The others followed Old Huai's example, also finding several unclear entries. The rescue team members corrected and supplemented them one by one. Qin Yuan remained silent. He sat in the corner, watching Old Huai's earnest expression, and recalled the days in Chennijie when Old Huai lay in the mine and asked him, "Where is the person in charge?"

The oversight committee found no major problems. The accounts were basically clear, and the use of funds was generally reasonable. But their very existence let everyone know—someone was watching. Not the councilors, not Qin Yuan, but those who had been helped. They didn't understand accounts, rules, or power. But they understood one thing: good people did good deeds, and they saw it.

A year after the oversight committee began operating, Old Huai found Qin Yuan again. He no longer wore straw sandals, but instead wore cloth shoes. The cloth shoes were made by himself, the stitches rough, but they fit well. His trouser legs were still rolled up, revealing old scars on his calves. They sat on the edge of the rescue team's camp, facing a taro field. The taro was planted by Ni Dan, its leaves taller than a person, rustling in the wind.

"The rescue team did a good deed, we all know that," Old Huai said. "But what will we do now that they've done their good deed and left?"

Qin Yuan did not answer immediately. He looked at the taro field, the leaves fluttering in the wind, their silvery-white backs shimmering.

"You can handle it yourselves."

Old Huai shook his head. "We won't."

Qin Yuan thought for a moment. "The rescue team isn't here to do things for you. They're here to teach you how to do things. Once you've learned, they'll leave. If you haven't, they won't leave."

Old Huai remained silent for a long time. His fingers tapped rhythmically on his knees. The leaves of the taro field rustled, like rain.

"Then we need to learn faster. We can't keep bothering others."

Qin Yuan smiled. He rarely smiled, but this time he did. "You've already learned it. The question you just asked is proof that you have."

Old Huai didn't understand. He frowned, looking at Qin Yuan's face. Qin Yuan didn't explain. Some things don't need explaining; they'll understand on their own in time.

Based on the supervisory committee's recommendations, the rescue team adjusted its work direction, shifting from "doing it for them" to "teaching them how to do it." Mud Egg returned to the Muddy Realm, teaching more people how to grow taro. His students became teachers, passing the skill down from generation to generation. On the edge of the Muddy Realm's swamp, the taro fields tripled in size. A new sign was erected next to the original wooden sign, reading "Old Locust Tree Field."

Li Qing continued her search for water sources in various worlds. However, she no longer dug wells herself; instead, she taught the locals how to find water and how to dig wells. The method for finding water was to observe the color of rocks and the growth of plants; the method for digging wells was to use spiritual energy to burrow into the ground and to dig by hand. Those who learned the methods were then able to teach others.

The rescue team was dwindling in size. It wasn't because no one wanted to go, but because they had taught the locals, and the locals no longer needed them. That was the rescue team's original purpose. The number of tents dwindled from hundreds to dozens, then from dozens to a dozen. The camp grew increasingly empty, but every time Qin Yuan came, it felt more lively than the last time—not because there were more people, but because those who remained were more efficient at their work.

When Qin Yuan visited the rescue team's camp for the last time, only a dozen or so tents remained. Li Qing squatted on the ground, using her spiritual power to detect a new water source. She stood up, brushed the dirt off her knees, and saw Qin Yuan. "There's almost no one left." Her short hair had grown long, and she had tied it into a small braid, which hung behind her ear.

"This is a good thing."

Qin Yuan didn't stay long. He spent the morning at the camp, looking at the taro fields, the medicinal herb garden, and the people still studying. After finishing his last lesson, Mud Egg wiped his hands and walked up to Qin Yuan. His clothes were covered in mud, even his fingernails were muddy. He pulled a taro from his pocket; it was purple-skinned and larger than the previous ones.

"This is a new variety. It's both drought-resistant and flood-resistant."

Qin Yuan took the taro and put it in his pocket. He already had three in his pocket, making his clothes droop. He patted Nidan's shoulder. Nidan's shoulders were broad, so it wasn't uncomfortable to hold.

Qin Yuan returned to the Xuan Yuan Sect. The old plum tree's blossoms had all fallen, and its branches were covered with glossy green leaves. The stream flowed on, its sound unchanged. Lin Qing'er was washing clothes by the stream, a washboard resting on her knees, her hands pushing against it rhythmically. The wood grain was deep, and the clothes rubbed against it, producing a rhythmic sound.

She looked up at him.

"You're back?"

"I'm back."

Qin Yuan placed the basket of taro on the bluestone and sat down beside her. Lin Qing'er wrung out the clothes in her hands, shook them out, and hung them on the rope. Her fingers were red from being soaked in water. The clothes on the rope were lined up, and when the wind blew, the sleeves swayed like arms.

"Aren't you leaving?" she asked.

Qin Yuan thought for a moment. "I'm not leaving. I've taught everything I needed to. Everyone knows what they need to know. The rest, I don't need to do."

Lin Qing'er didn't speak. She leaned on his shoulder, water droplets from her clothes dripping onto his sleeve, but he didn't move. The leaves of the old plum tree rustled in the wind, the stream flowed, and the sunlight shone from the west, casting long, overlapping shadows of the two of them.

Qin Yuan closed his eyes. Lin Qing'er also closed her eyes.

They're here. That's enough.