Lu Sheng had a child.
She spends all day carrying her child around the yard, unable to put him down.
His father sat on the doorstep, smoking a pipe, watching him with a smile that made his face full of wrinkles.
"You almost died when you were born," his father exhaled a puff of smoke. "Now your son is strong and healthy, good, good."
Lu Sheng looked down at the child in his arms, a tiny bundle with a wrinkled face and clenched fists.
He suddenly felt that his life had been worthwhile.
Time flies faster than water in a field.
My son can walk now, he can run now.
She even helps him carry the hoe now, and she goes to the market by herself.
But a few years later, his father passed away.
It was raining the day he left. His father lay on the bed, held his hand, said, "Take good care of your mother," and then closed his eyes.
Lu Sheng knelt in the rain all night without crying out.
At forty, Lu Sheng's back started to hurt.
Bending down is easy, straightening up is hard.
Xiuhe advised him to do less work, and he agreed verbally, but the next day he still went to the fields before dawn.
At fifty years old, Lu Sheng's hair had turned mostly white.
My son got married, and I have a grandson now.
Lu Sheng sat on the edge of the field, watching his son bending over in the field, and vaguely felt that he was his younger self.
He looked up.
A beam of light streaked across the sky, exactly the same as what he had seen forty years ago.
That longing that had been suppressed all his life suddenly surged up from the bottom of his heart, but when he looked at his rough hands, aching knees, and sunburnt face, he smiled.
"Forget it, if I can't become a celestial master, being a normal human being is fine too."
He talked to himself, but ultimately he couldn't make it through the winter of his sixty-seventh year.
He lay on the bed in the old house, surrounded by people.
Xiuhe held his hand tightly, tears streaming down her face.
The son knelt in front of the bed, and the grandson clung to the edge of the bed, calling out to his grandfather.
Lu Sheng wanted to say something, but his mouth opened without making a sound.
His vision grew increasingly blurry.
The last thing I saw was a corner of gray sky outside the window.
Breathing stopped.
The crying in my ears gradually faded away, as if separated by a layer of water.
Then came a very gentle breeze.
Lu Sheng felt himself floating upwards.
He saw his own roof, the village, and the fields he had cultivated all his life, all quietly nestled under the thin winter snow.
He's still going up.
Higher and higher, farther and farther away.
The village became a dot, and the fields became a line.
He saw mountains, he saw rivers, he saw distant places he had never been before.
In an instant, a thought popped into his mind.
The sky is so vast.
Willpower began to dissipate, thinning like fog.
He couldn't tell who he was or where he came from; he only felt that something very important was sitting in his heart, but he just couldn't remember it.
Just then, a gentle yet immense force lifted him up.
Transforming into a gentle breeze, it softly carried him to a certain place.
Interplay of light and shadow.
Suddenly, a sharp cry rang in my ears.
It's not his.
It's another baby.
Then came a woman's trembling, almost broken, yet overwhelmingly joyful voice.
"He's alive! My child is alive!"
"Congratulations, Immortal Master Lu! Your son is out of danger, a truly joyous occasion!"
Congratulations!
Several cultivators from the clan gathered outside the Lu Household courtyard, cupping their hands in congratulations.
Immortal Master Lu stood at the door of the delivery room, still in a daze.
The baby had already stopped breathing, and even the midwife shook her head.
He had even prepared a white shroud for the body.
But in that instant, the child regained consciousness and cried out.
He picked up the crumpled little thing, his hands trembling so much he could barely hold it.
"What name should we give it?" His wife asked, leaning against the bed, her voice weak but with a hint of a smile.
He opened his mouth, and two words inexplicably surfaced in his mind.
" Lu Sheng."
He didn't know why either.
I just felt that this name should belong to him.
Perhaps it is because of its resurrection that it is meant to be named this.
When Lu Sheng was three years old, his Spirit Root was tested, and everyone in the room was astonished.
Dual Spirit Root, with the primary root being wood, giving it a far greater affinity with the energy of heaven and earth than its peers.
The clan elders said that because of her exceptional talent, her Spiritual Qi clashed with her mother's during pregnancy, which nearly caused her to die in childbirth.
He began Qi Refinement at the age of six.
While other children take a year to Qi Introduction, he accomplished it in just half an hour.
At the age of twenty, Qi Refining Ninth Layer Perfection.
In the entire Lu Household, apart from his father, no one had a higher cultivation level than him.
But Lu Sheng didn't like cultivation.
He couldn't explain why.
Each time he meditated and circulated his energy, the smoother the flow of Spiritual Qi through his meridians, the more blocked up he felt in his heart.
It felt like something was pressing on my chest, or like an invisible hand was gripping my neck.
The higher one's cultivation level, the stronger this feeling becomes.
It was as if this very place was a cage.
With each step he took upwards, the cage tightened a little more.
He had told his father about it.
His father remained silent for a long time before speaking.
"That's because your State of Mind isn't right; you'll get better with more practice."
Lu Sheng didn't mention it again.
But he began to slow down his cultivation speed, intentionally or unintentionally.
After he turned thirty, he hardly meditated anymore.
His clansmen said it was a pity, a waste of resources, but he just smiled.
At forty, he cultivated several acres of land at the foot of the mountain.
His father was so angry that he scolded him for three days, saying that the Lu Household provided him with pills and Spirit Stone not so that he could dig in the dirt.
He listened with his head down, and the next day he still went to the fields with his hoe as usual.
Strangely, the moment he stuck his hand into the soil, he felt most of the pent-up frustration in his heart dissipate.
He grows rice, vegetables, and occasionally a few fruit trees.
Without summoning spirits or setting up formations, we used the simplest method: watering, weeding, and waiting for the sun to rise.
Fifty years old, sixty years old.
His cultivation level remained at the Qi Refining Ninth Layer, without advancing any further.
His father finally accumulated enough resources and went into seclusion to attempt to break through to the Foundation Establishment.
Three days later, a muffled thud came from the locked room.
When Lu Sheng pushed open the door, his father was lying on a prayer mat, bleeding from all seven orifices, and was already dead.
The attempt failed, the Spiritual Qi backfired, and his life was nearing its end.
Lu Sheng sat in the cell all night.
The next day, he distributed all the remaining pills in his house to the younger members of his clan, locked the door to his meditation room, and never opened it again.
From then on, he only farmed.
Days passed by, one after another.
He watched the rice in the field turn green and then yellow, then yellow and then green again.
At seventy, wrinkles appeared on his face.
At ninety years old, he began to bend over with difficulty.
At 110 years old, he spent most of his time sitting on the edge of the field, watching the sky.
Qi Refinement cultivators have a longer lifespan than ordinary people, but their lifespan still comes to an end.
In the winter of his 132nd year, Lu Sheng knew he was nearing his end.
He asked his younger relatives to move him to the edge of the field.
It was very cold, and there was nothing in the ground; it was completely bare.
He leaned against an old tree, his breathing becoming shallower and shallower.
Someone nearby asked him if he had anything else to say.
He thought about it for a long time.
"In the next life..."
His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible.
"Don't make me cultivate anymore, it's a waste."
"It would have been better to... just start farming from the beginning."
After saying that, he closed his eyes.
The wind blew from the fields, carrying the scent of earth and withered grass.
Everything was very quiet.
This time, however, it happened in a distant part of the Falling Firmament Realm.
A figure, as still as a stone statue, trembled slightly.
It was as if I sensed something.
At the same moment, the Falling Firmament Will appeared in the sky, its gaze looking down.
The tone was alarming.
"Master, your... Human Immortal Tribulation has arrived!"