In late autumn, the bleakness of fall hung over the land, while yellow leaves filled the sky and danced wildly in the wind.
For the past two days, gloomy rain had fallen without pause, and the temperature had plunged.
Damp wind carried fine raindrops back and forth in a merciless assault, filling every corner with a chilly, gloomy atmosphere.
Su Fan lay on a filthy, tattered bed, his body wrapped in layer upon layer of bandages like a mummy. The room was thick with the pungent smell of medicine,
He weakly pulled his blanket tighter and stared blankly at the ceiling.
Back on Earth, he had a house and a car and had been living just fine. How had he gone to sleep one night and crossed over to this godforsaken place?
The owner of this body shared his name. He was a cultivator.
An immortal from myth and legend, riding the wind across the universe and sweeping millions of miles with a single sword.
They captured dragons as mounts, kept cranes as companions, ate wind and drank dew, remained untouched by the years, and enjoyed the supreme freedom of the mortal world!
But as scattered fragments of memory surfaced, Su Fan finally saw through the true face of this fantastical and treacherous world.
The cultivators of this world were indeed powerful, and they truly could live forever, even sharing the same lifespan as Heaven and Earth.
But those people were only an extremely tiny minority among the countless cultivators.
A Rogue Cultivator like him, willing to risk his life for even a single spirit stone, was no different from an ant.
The legends were all damn lies. What the mortals wrote was the truth.
But Old Devil Han was a sect disciple of Yellow Maple Valley, and he could casually walk around and pick up a Sky-Holding Bottle.
His predecessor had nothing at all. Looking back over his cultivation career, it was nothing but damn tears.
The memories within this body were filled with humiliation and unwillingness.
He was past thirty and wandering in a foreign land.
With the aptitude of Four Spiritual Roots, he had been stuck at the bottleneck of the Qi Refining Second Layer for more than ten years.
The path of immortal cultivation was difficult, with killing intent at every step, like walking on thin ice.
He found himself missing home again—that insignificant little city.
Su Fan had no lofty ambitions. After graduation, his classmates had all gone north to the big cities to struggle, while he alone had returned to his hometown.
The pace of life was slow there, and the cost of living was low.
If he had no particular pursuits, he could lie flat in comfort for his entire life.
There, he could afford a two-bedroom apartment with little shared space, and he could even buy a cheap, practical domestic SUV.
If not for the divorce, his life would have been complete.
"I really miss my child..."
To lose their father at such a young age—what would happen if someone bullied them in the future?
At that thought, Su Fan let out a sigh.
"I can't go back, so I still have to keep living..."
He glanced at the ancient book by the head of the bed, picked it up, and flipped through it. Its pages were tattered and battered, and the latter half had even been torn away.
He dejectedly tossed the book aside.
The state of his injuries was all thanks to this book.
A few days ago, his predecessor had accepted an assignment from the Lesser Yang Sect and taken part in a campaign to surround and suppress rogue cultivators in the mountains near the market town.
He had no idea what kind of dogshit luck he had stumbled into, but he had actually found a Storage Bag on a rogue cultivator's corpse.
Rogue cultivators were like rats crossing the street, hiding everywhere every day. They were all dirt-poor.
Apart from a few spirit stones, the rest was junk. Only the Storage Bag was worth a few spirit stones.
But to him, it was undoubtedly a small fortune.
Poor fellow—after cultivating for so many years, he had not even managed to get a Storage Bag.
Then he discovered this shabby book, a remnant of a body-cultivation technique from the ancient demonic sect, the Heavenly Demonic Sect: the Demonic Saint Body Art.
Because he had been stuck at a bottleneck and his progress in his cultivation technique was virtually nonexistent, his predecessor had begun cultivating body cultivation ten years ago.
After ten years of bitter cultivation, he had finally achieved a little success.
Thus, when he obtained this book, he had treated it like a priceless treasure.
That was because the most heaven-defying aspect of this technique was its astonishingly fast cultivation speed—even allowing one to ascend to the heavens in a single step.
The methods of demonic sect cultivators were extremely twisted. To achieve their aims, they often disregarded all consequences.
Although their cultivation speed was astonishing, the price was immense.
According to the general principles of the Demonic Saint Body Art, this technique had no hidden dangers whatsoever.
Once the technique reached perfection, the physical body could even transcend the laws of Heaven and Earth, forming an undying and indestructible Demonic Saint Body.
Although it sounded quite mystical, in Su Fan's eyes, this was simply a technique for courting death.
It seemed incredibly heaven-defying, but where in this world was there a free lunch?
The first layer of the technique required drawing heavenly lightning into the body.
The cultivation speed was truly damn fast. As long as one survived the baptism of Heaven and Earth Lightning, one could transform from a mortal body of flesh and blood—
Ascend to the heavens in a single step and form a Lightning Dao Body.
The first attempt at cultivation was also the most dangerous. Only a tiny number of people could endure the ravaging of Heaven and Earth Lightning.
As for everyone else, they had probably all damn well died.
He finally understood how the Heavenly Demonic Sect had been destroyed. They had all been struck to death by lightning.
The person who had created this technique was a lunatic.
To risk being struck by the five bolts of heavenly thunder and gamble on that slim chance of immortality—how mindless did one have to be?
Wasn't it better to stay alive...
But his predecessor had not thought that way. With Four Spiritual Roots, he was practically a cripple. The sect would not accept him, and he was not the son of an immortal cultivation clan.
His means of obtaining cultivation resources was to form teams with others, enter the mountains, gather spirit herbs, and hunt demonic beasts.
It was not only dangerous; he also had to endure the exploitation of the market-town shops. What a miserable life he led.
On top of that, his aptitude was poor. After twenty years of cultivation, he was still stuck at the bottleneck of the Qi Refining Second Layer, unable to advance even an inch.
Now that he had finally encountered an opportunity, how could he possibly give up so easily?
Faced with such a heaven-defying technique, he had already been blinded by his opportunity and resolutely made his decision.
Risk his life in a desperate gamble.
And having achieved a little success in body cultivation was the greatest confidence he had in making that gamble.
Of course, the final result was tragic. Thanks to his slightly accomplished body-cultivation technique, his physical body endured.
But his soul could not withstand the ravaging of Heaven and Earth Lightning, and in the end, his soul scattered and vanished.
Su Fan had crossed over at that very moment and taken possession of this body.
The instant he opened his eyes, the pain nearly made him pass out.
His flesh was split open from head to toe, his tendons snapped and bones broken, viscous blood pouring from his seven orifices, while fragments of his tattered robe lay scattered across the ground.
Su Fan had forgotten how he had returned. He only remembered crawling through his front door before nightfall.
He moved his body, grimacing in pain.
What a worthless book. It had even claimed that one could ascend to the heavens in a single step and form a Lightning Dao Body.
It was just damn bragging.
Three days had passed, and his body still had not reacted in the slightest.
Su Fan closed his eyes and muttered a few words, his belly full of resentment.
When he opened his eyes again, something suddenly flashed before him, and a screen popped up.
"What is this..."
The familiar screen before his eyes was precisely the character panel from a xianxia game he had played before crossing over.
[Name] Su Fan [Longevity] 36/92 years [Realm] Qi Refining Second Layer: 99/100 [Techniques] 1. Primordial Chaos Technique (First Rank): 22/100. 2. Body Tempering Art (Second Rank): 45/200 3. Demonic Saint Body Art (First Rank): 100/100 [Spells] None [Skills] None [Divine Abilities] None
Su Fan stared in a daze for a while before reaching his hand toward the panel.
His finger passed straight through the screen, as though the panel did not exist.
What was going on? Could the game have crossed over with him too?
Su Fan grew somewhat excited. Could this be his golden finger?
He tried operating the panel, but no matter what he did, it did not react in the slightest.
That was it...?
Apart from turning his attributes into data, this panel had no other use.
Su Fan sighed. He had originally thought it would be something heaven-defying. Who could have imagined it would be such a useless thing?
At least the progress of his techniques was clear at a glance, simple and straightforward.
That was not bad. Better than nothing, at least.
[Longevity] 36/92 years. He was, after all, a cultivator. In the Mortal World, this was definitely an advanced age.
[Realm] Qi Refining Second Layer: 99/100. His cultivation bottleneck was like a sheet of paper; it was only a matter of when he would pierce through it.
The Primordial Chaos Technique was the technique he had cultivated for twenty years. It was common merchandise among Rogue Cultivators.
Its advantage was that it was balanced and peaceful, with a solid foundation. Its disadvantage was that it was slow.
As for the things described in the general principles of the Demonic Saint Body Art, Su Fan believed they were all damn bragging, but he had no proof.
In any case, he did not intend to touch demonic sect techniques again.
The Body Tempering Art was something his predecessor had cultivated as a supplementary body-cultivation technique. He had bitterly trained for ten years and only recently broken through to the second rank, showing just how difficult body cultivation was.
Apart from techniques, no spells, divine abilities, skills, or anything else had appeared on the panel.
Divine abilities were too high-level, so he would set those aside for now.
In theory, after cultivating for twenty years, he should at least have learned some spells for self-defense and some skills for making a living.
Su Fan thought about it for a long time but could not figure it out.
The memories his predecessor had left behind were fairly complete only for recent events.
Anything earlier was quite blurry, consisting entirely of scattered fragments.
Regardless, through the data-based panel, Su Fan gained a clear understanding of his own strength.
He was a weakling.
With this level of strength, he had still dared to enter the mountains to hunt demonic beasts, and had even dared to accept the Lesser Yang Sect's employment to surround and suppress rogue cultivators.
To have survived until now, he must have had one hell of a fate.
He absolutely could not be so reckless anymore. He would be better off honestly becoming a Life Skill Player.
He lay on the broken bed, letting his thoughts run wild throughout the afternoon.
Only when his stomach began to growl did Su Fan carefully get out of bed and scoop a ladle of spirit rice from the rice jar beside him.
The spirit rice was plump and slender, crystal clear and exceptionally attractive.
The stove was no different from the one at his grandmother's rural home in his previous life. Combined with the body's instinctive procedural memories, cooking rice was not difficult.
The water in the pot boiled, and the room immediately filled with the unique fragrance of spirit rice.
Su Fan sat beside the stove and looked around.
The house was roughly fifty or sixty square meters, divided into an inner and outer section.
There was also a small courtyard outside, slightly larger than the room itself.
The southern room was furnished simply. Several cabinets stood against the wall, while a broken bed sat beneath the window. Beside it, a brick bed held a meditation cushion and a kang table.
The northern room was the kitchen. The stove and water jar were on the left, while a cutting board and cupboards stood on the other side, with firewood piled in the corner.
This shabby house cost one spirit stone to rent.
Don't complain that it was expensive. The moment the lease ended, who knew how many Rogue Cultivators would cry and beg to move in?
After all, it was very close to the Lesser Yang Sect's market town, which at least guaranteed basic safety.
More importantly, the spiritual energy in other places was not merely a little worse than here—it was worlds apart.
The spirit rice finished cooking. He impatiently lifted the lid, and the steaming rice filled a large bowl to the brim.
Picking up his chopsticks, he eagerly shoveled a mouthful into his mouth.
It was so damn fragrant.
All the rice he had eaten before—Thai fragrant rice, Wuchang rice, whatever—was utterly outclassed.
Just for this bowl of spirit rice, cultivating immortality was worth it.
After a meal should have been the best time to cultivate and absorb the spiritual energy within the spirit rice.
But Su Fan was injured and could only sprawl on the bed in a daze.
There were no games here and no cellphone either. He was bored to death.
To pass the time, he dug out a miscellany about local customs and gained at least some understanding of this world.
Before you continue