Survival

Withered vines, old trees, dusk crows.

Snow blanketed the mountains and fields, heaven and earth white as one. Dilapidated, broken thatched huts stood amid the snow like a smear of grime on white paper, conspicuous beyond measure.

The next moment, a faint breeze swept past.

"Creak."

With a soft sound, the thatched hut's door was stirred by the icy wind, faintly revealing the scene inside: a silent, unfathomable darkness.

If someone had stood outside and peered into the hut at that moment, they would have been astonished to find that they could see almost nothing. All that met their eyes would be darkness. Only cultivators with sufficiently high cultivation and attainment could vaguely make out what seemed to be an ancient bronze Lamp placed within that darkness.

Bang!

The next moment, as though it had gained sentience, the thatched hut's door ceased heeding the cold wind's harassment and slammed shut, solid and steady, without the slightest further movement.

"Huff."

Heavy breathing drifted through the dim hut. Then a pair of eyes opened, brimming with amusement and even a touch of smugness.

That cold wind was looking for me, wasn't it?

Lu Yang did not speak. At a time like this, the greatest taboo was talking to oneself. Thinking it in his heart was enough; speaking would only leave corresponding traces between heaven and earth.

He's getting anxious. Hahaha, he's getting anxious!

For this thatched hut imbued with profound mysteries, everything that happened to it necessarily had a corresponding Image in reality.

For instance, that cold wind that had nearly blown open the door just now was an Image-based sensing. In essence, someone was wielding great dharma power, searching heaven and scouring earth, examining Karma, seeking to find what was hidden inside the hut. The tightly shut door symbolized the result