Chapter 1

Donghua Continent.

Cangwu Mountain, Shan Yuan Temple.

Zhang Yan slowly withdrew from his meditative state. He felt clear-headed and bright-eyed, his breathing almost imperceptible, and a sense of lightness and comfort enveloped his body, indicating that his cultivation had improved. However, there was no joy on his face.

"This breathing technique, though it makes my body light and healthy, surpassing ordinary people, is ultimately not the right path. Even if I practice until old age, I will only remain light and healthy, with keen senses. If I continue to wait for an opportunity, not only will the great path be out of reach, but even my livelihood will be hard to sustain. I might as well take a risky move today."

But once this step was taken, there would be no turning back.

Zhang Yan pondered, though he had already weighed the pros and cons, it was inevitable to feel anxious and hesitant when it came to taking the final step. He subconsciously gripped a piece of crystal-clear jade in his hand, and the smooth, silky texture instantly calmed his slightly agitated mind.

He smiled, realizing that since he was no longer the original Zhang Yan, he should follow his heart and be true to himself, discarding all past concerns.

At this thought, he felt a wave of relief, indicating that his mind had finally merged perfectly with this body.

Ten days ago, a meteor fell on the back mountain of Cangwu. The original owner of this body accidentally picked up the fallen jade fragment but died before he could examine it. Zhang Yan, who had struggled for seven years in the post-apocalyptic world and died while covering the retreat of the camp, was reborn in the body of this young man with the same name.

Zhang Yan, a registered disciple of Shan Yuan Temple, one of the three lower temples of the Mingcang Sect.

His predecessor came from an official family and, at the age of sixteen, was guided by a wise man to visit Shan Yuan Temple to seek immortality. However, after three years, he had only learned some basic breathing techniques to strengthen his body and had not mastered any legendary immortal techniques.

The wise man had told him that to enter the mystical path, one must first cultivate the primordial spirit, open the immortal meridians, transform the mortal body, and plant the mystical root!

This was essentially the first hurdle a cultivator must face—opening the meridians!

Only by unblocking the immortal meridians and cleansing the body of impurities could one practice the legendary immortal techniques and enter the mystical path. Ordinary breathing techniques, no matter how many decades they were practiced, could not lead to the immortal realm.

In short, without opening the meridians, one could not become an immortal!

If this could not be achieved, one should give up the idea of the immortal path!

As the saying goes, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and a nine-story platform starts with a pile of earth. Opening the meridians is not something that can be achieved overnight. First, one must condense qi and cultivate the primordial spirit. However, even this step made Zhang Yan feel quite helpless.

His predecessor had practiced the basic techniques for three years, and every time he sought more advanced methods from the senior masters, they would tell him that the opportunity had not yet arrived and his cultivation was not deep enough, advising him to practice even harder.

Before coming to the mountain, his predecessor was just a simple and naive young man, with no worldly experience or guidance, believing that this was the truth. Regardless of the heat of summer or the cold of winter, he diligently practiced, dedicating three hours each day to the technique.

Zhang Yan could only smile bitterly, thinking how naive his predecessor was to believe such rhetoric.

Although he had not occupied this body for long, he could see from some clues that the so-called opportunity was nothing more than a matter of money. Without money or exceptional talent, who would pay attention to an insignificant registered disciple?

Fortunately, every loss has its gain. Zhang Yan found some solace in the fact that years of hard practice had laid a solid foundation for this body, and probably no one in Shan Yuan Temple paid as much attention to the basic techniques as he did.

The technique, called "One Qi Qing Jing," is based on the principle that the Dao gives rise to one, one gives rise to two, two give rise to three, and three give rise to all things. "One Qi Qing Jing" focuses on the "one," which is the starting point of all paths.

As a cultivator's cultivation deepens, the techniques they practice will vary in quality, but the initial "one" is the same for all, with little difference. Most orthodox mystical sects use this breathing technique as the foundation for their entry-level techniques.

However, this is ultimately just a basic technique. Without advanced techniques to guide it, even the best foundation cannot bear fruit.

Having experienced the apocalypse and the powerlessness and insignificance of humans in the face of natural disasters and viruses, Zhang Yan's desire for the Dao was far more intense than anyone else's.

Since he had come to this world, he was determined not to miss the path to immortality!

Though he had great resolve and determination, there were more pressing matters to consider. After three years of cultivation, his predecessor had not engaged in any productive activities, and the money he brought to the mountain was almost depleted. Now, he had only a small cooking pot and a set of writing tools, and he could only eat wild vegetables every day.

Survival was already difficult, let alone pursuing the Dao.

Cultivation was not about retreating into the mountains and living in isolation; it was an extremely resource-intensive process. Without a wealthy background, it was impossible to sustain it.

Of course, those with exceptional talent and favored by senior masters were exceptions.

But for someone like Zhang Yan, who had come to the mountain on his own, he had to bear all the expenses himself.

Over the past few days, Zhang Yan had been thinking hard about how to break the deadlock. He had come up with a plan that, if executed properly, could not only solve his immediate problems but also bring him to the attention of the senior masters at Shan Yuan Temple.

However, this plan carried a certain risk. One wrong step could mean eternal ruin. But since heaven had given him this opportunity, he could not give up the Dao and leave the mountain.

He could only move forward, not backward.

As the saying goes, an arrow on the string must be shot!

In his view, the original Zhang Yan only knew how to practice in isolation and did not know how to tap into his own wealth.

Because his predecessor was originally a scholar, he had spent a lot of effort learning the "Erosion Script," the writing system used by cultivators. Almost all Daoist texts were written in this script, which was the foundation of cultivation.

To Zhang Yan, Erosion Script was more like a "code" for cultivators. Each character had a thousand meanings, and when combined into sentences, it was like reading a heavenly book. To understand it, one needed not only innate talent and insight but also the use of bamboo rods to calculate and deduce, gradually grasping the general idea and deeply reflecting on it to gain insights.

This interpretation was half calculation and half guesswork, often taking a lot of time, and there were many who spent three to five years reading Daoist texts without understanding them, causing many cultivators to be frustrated.

If one was unwilling to spend time on this, they could seek guidance from the senior masters, but that required sufficient "opportunity."

Perhaps benefiting from his two lifetimes, Zhang Yan, who already had a talent for Erosion Script, found himself even more agile and quick in his calculations, making fewer mistakes and working several times faster than before. He could earn money by helping others interpret Erosion Script.

But this alone was not enough.

He held the jade fragment in his hand and smiled, feeling more confident with it.

Looking up at the sky, it was already the morning hour. The outside world was bright, and the mountain mist had dissipated. He stood up, put on a bamboo basket, and held a bamboo banner, walking out slowly.

His residence was a cave carved into the cliff of Shan Yuan Temple, providing a place for those seeking the Dao to meditate. Outside the cave, a wooden plank path was built for passage, with no railings on the outer side, and a three-step drop to a thousand-foot cliff, making it a daunting sight.

However, having lived there for three years, he was already accustomed to the view and walked with ease, leaving the plank path and following the mountain path.

Cangwu Mountain had eighteen peaks and thirty-six streams. On the ninth peak, Yuqiong Peak, there was a large, smooth rock called "Thousand People Rock." Every morning, hundreds of disciples from Shan Yuan Temple would gather there to practice breathing techniques and absorb the essence of heaven and earth.

It took about half an hour to walk from Zhang Yan's residence on Wangxing Peak to Thousand People Rock. By the time he arrived, the morning practice had already ended, and some disciples were gathered in groups, discussing their cultivation experiences. He did not pay much attention to them and found a pavilion with a wide view, sat down on a stone bench, and set up his bamboo banner and writing tools, closing his eyes and remaining silent.

Soon, a person walked up the stone steps of the pavilion, looked at the bamboo banner, and then at Zhang Yan, frowning and saying, "Interpreting Erosion Script Daoist texts? Brother, you don't seem to have much cultivation, yet you dare to make such a bold claim?"

The man was about twenty years old, broad-shouldered and muscular, wearing a blue Daoist robe with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong muscles. His eyes were sharp, and his face had a faint jade-like hue, indicating that he had successfully cultivated the primordial spirit and entered the "Condensing Qi and Manifesting Intent" realm. Such a cultivator must have come from a significant background.

His doubt was not unfounded. Generally, the ability to interpret Erosion Script was closely related to one's cultivation. If you hadn't reached that level yourself, how could you explain the text to others? The deeper the pool, the more water it can hold, a truth that cannot be denied.

Of course, if someone spent their entire life studying Erosion Script, they might achieve some success, such as those who knew they had no hope of cultivation but had a deep interest in mystical principles. However, these people were first and foremost free from worries about food and clothing and had dedicated their entire lives to studying.

Zhang Yan, who looked to be under twenty and had not even successfully cultivated the primordial spirit, could hardly be considered to have any cultivation. How could he be convincing?

Zhang Yan smiled, his demeanor calm and polite. He stood up and bowed, saying, "You can try."

Seeing Zhang Yan's composed demeanor, the man became curious and similarly bowed, saying, "I am Min Lou, a disciple of De Xiu Temple. May I know how to address this junior brother?"

Zhang Yan returned the bow, saying, "I am Zhang Yan, a disciple of Shan Yuan Temple."

De Xiu Temple and Shan Yuan Temple were both one of the three lower temples of the Mingcang Sect. Disciples from both temples often exchanged ideas, but recently, a significant event had occurred on Cangwu Mountain, gathering many disciples from the three temples, most of whom were staying on the relatively flat Yuqiong Peak.

Min Lou laughed and sat down in front of Zhang Yan, saying, "I wonder what your method is for interpreting Erosion Script?"

"Grain and silver are both acceptable." Zhang Yan pointed to a small line of text at the bottom of the banner, indicating that his primary concern was his livelihood.

Min Lou looked at it and found that Zhang Yan's demands were not excessive. If he could indeed interpret Erosion Script, it would be a bargain.

"Alright, I can afford a little grain and silver. Here, I have a Daoist text." Min Lou was a straightforward person, taking out a thin Daoist text and placing it heavily on the stone table, his expression somewhat playful, "Please take a look!"

Zhang Yan calmly took the text, flipped through a few pages, and smiled, taking a brush and dipping it in ink, writing quickly without hesitation.

Min Lou's expression changed, and he was surprised, "Oh, you don't use bamboo rods to calculate?"

Usually, interpreting Daoist texts required using bamboo rods to calculate and deduce. Not using bamboo rods was a skill he had only seen in a few senior disciples with high cultivation.

"No."

Zhang Yan did not look up, his tone calm but his confidence infectious. Despite his initial skepticism, Min Lou's expression unconsciously became more serious.

Zhang Yan flipped through ten pages without any difficulty. However, after a few more pages, he frowned and paused.

Min Lou noticed Zhang Yan's expression and smiled to himself.

The content at the beginning of the text was not too difficult, but there were a few sections that were quite perplexing. He had to seek guidance from a senior disciple to understand it, and even then, some details remained unclear. He did not believe that a mere registered disciple could interpret it.

Although he encountered a difficult section, Zhang Yan did not panic. He secretly held the jade fragment in his sleeve, focused his mind, and continued writing after a moment.

To Min Lou, Zhang Yan simply closed his eyes and thought for a moment before continuing to write, looking puzzled but then enlightened. He assumed Zhang Yan had skipped that section, but this was common when interpreting Erosion Script. He had only acted on a whim, with a bit of a playful intent, and did not expect much.

After about half an hour, Zhang Yan's brush made a heavy stroke and he stopped, then blew on the paper to dry it and handed it to Min Lou.

Min Lou took it with a half-smile, glancing at it and casually praising, "Good handwriting, good handwriting."

However, after a few more glances, he was surprised, and his surprise grew as he read on. Finally, he stood up, looking at Zhang Yan in amazement.

The interpretation was concise and profound, showing that Zhang Yan was not only a scholar but also had a deep understanding of Erosion Script. Moreover, he had clearly explained the parts that Min Lou had found confusing, all within less than an hour.

Min Lou's attitude toward Zhang Yan changed, and he looked at him with admiration, saying sincerely, "Senior brother, you are truly skilled. I am in awe."

Zhang Yan bowed, saying, "I am ashamed, but this is how I earn my living."

Min Lou waved the paper in his hand and laughed, "With your skills, why worry about your livelihood? I and my fellow disciples will surely come to seek your help often."

For him, interpreting Daoist texts for a little grain and silver was a great bargain! Zhang Yan might be down on his luck now, but he would surely rise in the future. It was wise to form a connection with him now.

Zhang Yan stood up and bowed, saying, "Thank you, senior brother, for your help."

Min Lou was taken aback, then laughed, "Zhang senior brother is indeed a remarkable person!"

Zhang Yan smiled but said nothing. Not everyone had Min Lou's confidence, but since he had offered to help, it was best to take him at his word. Moreover, Min Lou did not seem to be an ordinary cultivator, and forming a connection with him would be beneficial.

Min Lou then left, not mentioning the payment. Zhang Yan did not ask, his expression calm, as if they had both forgotten about it.

By noon, four servants, each pushing a wheelbarrow, arrived at the pavilion on Thousand People Rock. The lead servant bowed to Zhang Yan, saying, "Are you Master Zhang? We are servants of Master Min, and we have been instructed to deliver these grain and silver to your residence."

Zhang Yan nodded, saying, "Please wait a moment."

He did not rush to return, and the servants did not show any impatience, waiting quietly. This scene naturally attracted the attention of many onlookers.

However, no one else came to seek his services that day, except for a few who asked a few questions. Zhang Yan answered them all, and as the sun began to set, he packed up and returned to his residence with the servants.

Shortly after Zhang Yan left, a middle-aged scholar in his thirties rushed to the pavilion but found it empty. He stomped his feet in frustration, his face full of regret.

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