**Chapter 2: The Dao of Cowardice and the First Bud**
The cramped wooden shack, previously a monument to solitary misery and impending doom, was now filled with the unfamiliar, bustling warmth of human presence.
Lu Changsheng sat at the rickety wooden table, watching as his three newly wedded wives moved about the small space with surprising efficiency. Despite the grim surroundings, a subtle shift in the atmosphere had occurred. It was no longer a tomb; it was a household.
Lin Wan'er, the refugee, had immediately taken charge of the hearth. With practiced hands, she washed the coarse spiritual rice Lu Changsheng had purchased and set it to boil in a battered iron pot. Zhao Qing, the blacksmith's daughter, had procured a broom made of stiff reeds and was vigorously sweeping ten years of accumulated grime from the warped floorboards, her sturdy shoulders working with rhythmic strength. Xia Ruyan, the former daughter of cultivators, had taken it upon herself to organize the meager furnishings, folding the rough blankets and setting the cracked teacups in a neat, orderly line.
None of them complained. None of them sneered at the leaky roof or the drafty walls. To them, the solid wooden door bolted against the chaotic night of the Qinghe Market slums was a barrier against a world that had tried to crush them.
Soon, the aroma of cooking rice and roasting meat filled the shack. Lu Changsheng had spent half a low-grade spirit stone—a fortune to a slum dweller—on a catty of Horned Boar meat. It was the lowest tier of spiritual beast, the meat tough, gamey, and requiring vigorous chewing, but it contained trace amounts of blood-qi that were incredibly nourishing for mortal bodies.
When Wan'er placed the steaming bowls on the table, the three women stood to the side, their hands clasped in front of them, heads bowed submissively. They were waiting for him, the head of the household, the "Immortal Master," to eat first.
"Sit," Lu Changsheng commanded gently, gesturing to the three wobbly stools they had dragged from the corners of the room. "In this house, we eat together. You are my wives, not my servants. If you are to bear my children, you need strength."
They hesitated, ingrained societal rules warring with his command, but eventually, they sat. When they tasted the Horned Boar meat, tears welled up in Wan'er's eyes. It had been months since she had tasted anything more than watery gruel. Even Xia Ruyan ate with a quiet, desperate hunger, her refined manners slightly giving way to basic survival instinct.
As they ate, Lu Changsheng observed them, his mind calculating. He was a Qi Condensation Level 2 cultivator. His body was marginally stronger, faster, and more durable than a mortal's, but he was far from superhuman. The original host's Qi deviation had ravaged his internal meridians. He was currently weak, his spiritual energy fractured and unstable.
"Tonight," Lu Changsheng thought, chewing a piece of tough meat, "marks the beginning of my great Dao. But I must pace myself."
The novels he used to read featured protagonists with legendary stamina, able to conquer harems with the boundless energy of dragons. Lu Changsheng was a realist. He was a sick, recovering low-level cultivator with three healthy, young mortal wives. If he overexerted himself, given his damaged meridians, he might actually suffer a physical collapse before he even planted a single seed for his bloodline tree.
*Caution.* It applied to the battlefield, and it applied to the bedchamber.
After the meal, the reality of their living arrangement became apparent. There was only one bed. It was a sturdy thing, built by the original host, but it was meant for one, perhaps two at a squeeze. Four people would be a tangled, uncomfortable mess.
"Wan'er," Lu Changsheng said, making his decision based purely on pragmatic logic. She was the youngest, the most malnourished, and arguably the most fragile at the moment. But she was also the one who looked at him with the most absolute, unquestioning devotion. "You will share the bed with me tonight."
He turned to the other two. "Zhao Qing, Xia Ruyan. I will purchase materials tomorrow to build an extension to this bed, or a second one entirely. For tonight, you will have to make do with the floor pallets. I apologize for the hardship."
Zhao Qing shook her head immediately. "Husband is too kind. The floor is solid and dry. It is a hundred times better than the muddy roads."
Xia Ruyan nodded in agreement, though her eyes lingered on the bed for a fraction of a second before she lowered her gaze.
That night, as the ambient sounds of the slum—distant shouts, the barking of stray dogs, and the occasional terrifying roar of a beast from the Bloodwood Forest—filtered through the thin walls, Lu Changsheng initiated his grand plan for immortality.
He was gentle, deliberate, and entirely focused on the goal. He pushed aside the modern earthly notions of romance and courtship. This was survival. This was his cultivation technique. As he held Lin Wan'er in the dark, feeling her nervous trembling give way to quiet acceptance, he focused his mind on his Sea of Consciousness.
The Eternal Bloodline Tree stood there, radiant and majestic, its golden leaves shimmering with an ethereal light. It seemed to pulse in time with his actions, a silent witness to the foundation of its impending growth.
*Grow,* Lu Changsheng prayed silently to whatever chaotic universe had brought him here. *Take root. Let me live.*
Three months passed.
In the grand scheme of the immortal cultivation world, three months was but a single blink. Elite disciples of the Azure Mountain Sect would spend years in closed-door meditation just to break through a single minor realm. Thousand-year-old monsters slumbered in secret realms, letting centuries wash over them like water over a stone.
But for Lu Changsheng, residing in the squalid outer slums of the Qinghe Market, these three months were a grueling test of patience, discipline, and absolute adherence to his Dao of Supreme Caution.
He had established a strict, unshakable routine. He woke up before dawn, practiced a basic, low-grade breathing technique for exactly one hour to slowly nurse his damaged meridians, and then he went to work.
He had abandoned the original host's dangerous methods of earning spirit stones. No more hunting demon beasts. No more tending to unstable, explosive spiritual herbs for stingy alchemists. Instead, he had invested his remaining funds into a stack of low-quality yellow talisman paper, a pot of inferior cinnabar ink, and a frayed spirit-hair brush.
He became a talisman crafter.
Or, more accurately, he became an assembly-line worker producing the lowest, most useless talisman in existence: The Dust Cleansing Talisman.
It was a talisman that simply cleaned dirt off clothes and surfaces. It had zero combat applications, zero defensive capabilities, and required only a microscopic fraction of spiritual energy to draw. The profit margin was abysmal. He had to draw and successfully sell fifty Dust Cleansing Talismans just to earn a single low-grade spirit stone.
But it was safe. It required no interaction with dangerous cultivators, and no one would ever murder him in a dark alley to steal a stack of cleaning supplies.
Every day, he sat at his newly expanded wooden table, grinding cinnabar and drawing the same mind-numbing pattern over and over until his wrist ached and his meager spiritual energy was depleted.
His wives, meanwhile, had transformed the shack. Zhao Qing, utilizing her blacksmith father's teachings, had reinforced the door, patched the leaky roof with scavenged tar and bark, and even built a sturdy, massive wooden bed capable of comfortably holding four people. Lin Wan'er managed the kitchen, turning cheap mortal grains and wild slum vegetables into hearty, edible meals. Xia Ruyan, utilizing her literacy, managed their microscopic budget, tracking every copper coin and half-spirit stone with ruthless efficiency.
They were a well-oiled machine of poverty.
However, the reality of the cultivation world never truly left them alone.
It was a humid, oppressive afternoon in the fourth month. Lu Changsheng was in the middle of drawing his thirtieth talisman of the day when a violent, echoing *CRASH* rattled the reinforced door.
"Open up! Black Wolf Gang! Monthly protection fee!" a rough, gravelly voice bellowed from outside.
Inside the shack, the atmosphere instantly froze. Wan'er dropped the wooden spoon she was holding, her face draining of color. Zhao Qing instinctively grabbed a heavy wooden mallet used for repairs, her knuckles turning white. Xia Ruyan's eyes darted toward Lu Changsheng, looking for the immortal master's response to this mortal insult.
Lu Changsheng didn't reach for a sword. He didn't circulate his spiritual energy to prepare a spell. He didn't puff out his chest in righteous indignation.
Instead, he carefully set his brush down so as not to stain the talisman paper, wiped his hands on a rag, and smoothed out his features until his face was a mask of absolute, subservient panic. He hunched his shoulders, making himself look smaller, weaker, and thoroughly pathetic.
"Husband..." Xia Ruyan whispered, appalled by his sudden transformation. She had seen her father, a proud cultivator, fight to the death over a perceived slight.
"Silence," Lu Changsheng hissed back, his voice devoid of anger but carrying a chilling warning. "Put the mallet away, Qing. Do not speak. Keep your heads down."
He scurried to the door and pulled the heavy iron bolt back.
Standing in the alleyway were three burly men wearing black leather armor adorned with crudely painted wolf heads. The leader, a man with a jagged scar running across his nose and a massive iron cleaver strapped to his back, radiated the aura of a Qi Condensation Level 3 cultivator. The two lackeys behind him were heavily armed mortals, exuding thick killing intent.
"Ah, Boss Wang! Welcome, welcome!" Lu Changsheng practically bowed, his hands rubbing together in a display of nervous sycophancy. "I am honored by your presence. Please, forgive the humble surroundings."
Wang Hu, the gang leader, sneered, pushing his way past Lu Changsheng and stepping into the shack. His boots left muddy tracks on the freshly swept floor. His leering eyes immediately fell upon the three women huddled in the corner.
"Well, well, well," Wang Hu grunted, licking his lips. "I heard the useless trash Lu Changsheng spent his life savings on three mortal brides. I didn't believe it. A talentless waste like you, enjoying the soft jade while the rest of us bleed in the forest?"
Lu Changsheng felt a cold spike of adrenaline. The situation was teetering on a razor's edge. If Wang Hu decided he wanted the women, Lu Changsheng would have no choice but to fight, and a fight meant exposure, injury, or death. He was Level 2, Wang Hu was Level 3. Even if he somehow won, the Black Wolf Gang had dozens of members and a Level 5 leader. It would be a death sentence.
He had to defuse this with ultimate cowardice.
"Boss Wang jests, jests!" Lu Changsheng forced a trembling, self-deprecating laugh, deliberately keeping himself between Wang Hu and his wives. "They are just plain, rough mortal girls to wash my clothes and cook my gruel. Nothing worthy of Boss Wang's noble eyes! I am but a sickly cripple trying to survive."
He hurriedly reached into his robes and pulled out a small cloth pouch. It contained three low-grade spirit stones—six days' worth of mind-numbing talisman crafting.
"Here, Boss Wang! The monthly fee, as always. Two stones for the standard rate, and an extra stone as a token of my extreme respect for the Black Wolf Gang's protection." Lu Changsheng held the pouch out with both hands, bowing deeply.
Wang Hu snatched the pouch, bouncing it in his palm. The weight of the extra stone pleased him. He looked at Lu Changsheng's hunched, trembling form, then back at the women.
In the cultivation world, taking a fellow cultivator's wives was a blood feud. It was generally avoided unless there was a massive disparity in power or a deep grudge. Wang Hu was a thug, but he wasn't completely brainless. Lu Changsheng was pathetic, but he was still a cultivator. Pushing him to a desperate deathmatch over mortal women wasn't worth the risk when the coward was willingly paying double the protection fee.
"Hmph. You're a smart rat, Lu," Wang Hu spat, pocketing the stones. He deliberately hawked and spat a glob of phlegm onto the clean floorboards just inches from Lu Changsheng's boots. "Keep drawing your useless papers, trash. If you're late next month, I'll take a finger. And maybe I'll let my boys play with your 'washers'."
"Understood, Boss Wang! Crystal clear! I will never be late! Thank you for your mercy!" Lu Changsheng bowed repeatedly, backing away as Wang Hu and his thugs finally turned and left, laughing raucously down the alleyway.
Lu Changsheng closed the door, slid the heavy bolt into place, and leaned against it, letting out a long, shuddering breath. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He had survived.
When he turned around, he was met with the confused, slightly disgusted gaze of Xia Ruyan. Zhao Qing was already moving to clean the spit off the floor, her face expressionless, but Wan'er was trembling with residual fear.
"Husband," Xia Ruyan finally spoke, unable to hold her tongue. "He insulted you. He spat at your feet. He threatened us. You are a cultivator! How... how could you grovel like a mortal dog? Where is your dignity?"
Lu Changsheng looked at her. The subservient, cowardly facade vanished instantly, replaced by a gaze so cold, so ancient and calculating, that Xia Ruyan physically took a step back.
"Dignity?" Lu Changsheng asked softly, walking back to his table and picking up his brush. "Ruyan, tell me. Where are your parents' dignities?"
The question was a physical blow. Xia Ruyan flinched, her eyes widening.
"They were proud cultivators, were they not?" Lu Changsheng continued smoothly, his voice devoid of malice, merely stating facts. "They fought for face. They fought for resources. They refused to bow. And where are they now? They are rotting in some unnamed ditch in a secret realm, and their daughter was sold to a matchmaker for a handful of silver."
Xia Ruyan choked back a sob, looking away.
"Wang Hu is Level 3. I am Level 2, with damaged meridians," Lu Changsheng explained, lecturing them as if discussing the weather. "If I fought him for my 'dignity,' I might have died. If I died, the Black Wolf gang would have taken the three of you and sold you to a brothel in the mortal town, or worse, to demonic cultivators as furnace cauldrons."
He pointed the tip of his brush at the door. "My dignity cost me three spirit stones today. A cheap price to keep my head attached to my neck and my family safe in my home. Remember this: the only people who care about face are the dead ones. As long as we are alive, as long as we survive to see tomorrow, we have won. Everything else is vanity."
He dipped his brush in the cinnabar. "Never mistake my caution for weakness, Ruyan. I grovel today so that I can live a thousand years. Let Wang Hu have his pride. He will likely die next month fighting over a scrap of beast meat. I will outlive him. I will outlive them all."
The room fell into a profound silence. Lin Wan'er looked at him with newfound awe. Zhao Qing nodded slowly, understanding the brutal pragmatism of his words. Xia Ruyan stood frozen, her worldview shattering and reforming under the weight of her husband's terrifyingly cold, logical cowardice.
He wasn't a coward because he was afraid to fight. He was a coward because he deemed fighting a mathematically inefficient way to survive.
The turning point of Lu Changsheng's new life arrived three weeks later.
It was late at night. Lu Changsheng was circulating his meager spiritual energy, trying to painstakingly repair a hairline fracture in his main meridian, when a sudden, violent wave of nausea wracked Lin Wan'er, who was sleeping beside him.
She bolted upright, rushing to the wooden bucket in the corner, retching violently.
Lu Changsheng was instantly at her side, his hand pressing against her back, sending a tiny, soothing thread of spiritual energy into her body to calm her stomach. As his energy probed her system, he felt it.
It was faint. It was microscopic. But it was there.
A second, tiny heartbeat. A distinct spark of new life forming within her womb.
Lu Changsheng froze. The breath caught in his throat. He slowly withdrew his hand, his eyes wide, staring at Wan'er as she wiped her mouth, looking up at him fearfully, thinking she had contracted a slum disease.
"Husband? I'm sorry... I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel so sick," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.
Before he could answer, an explosive, blinding golden light erupted within his Sea of Consciousness.
It was a thousand times brighter than when the Eternal Bloodline Tree had first awakened. The majestic tree, which had stood dormant and silent for months, suddenly thrummed with a terrifying, ancient vitality. The golden roots plunged deeper into the very fabric of his soul. The trunk thickened, pulsing like a colossal artery.
And there, on the lowest, strongest branch, a small, tightly wound bud suddenly formed. It glowed with a soft, warm light, vibrating with the rhythm of the tiny heartbeat inside Lin Wan'er.
*Connection Established.* The silent truth resonated in his mind.
He had done it. The seed was planted. The bloodline was secure.
Lu Changsheng let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. He pulled Wan'er into a fierce, desperate hug, burying his face in her shoulder. "You're not sick, Wan'er. You're not sick. You're pregnant. We are going to have a child."
The news woke the other two wives. The shack, usually steeped in the quiet tension of survival, erupted in subdued, genuine joy. Even Xia Ruyan smiled warmly, congratulating Wan'er. In this brutal world, a child was hope.
For Lu Changsheng, it was far more than hope. It was the literal key to his heaven-defying path.
The next six months were a period of extreme, almost paranoid vigilance for Lu Changsheng. He drastically reduced his talisman output, spending more time at home. He spent exorbitant amounts of money—almost all his savings—buying mortal tonics, high-quality spiritual beast meat, and even a single, incredibly expensive 'Lesser Vitality Pill' designed for mortals, just to ensure Wan'er's body could handle the strain.
He didn't care about the cost. If she miscarried, he lost his connection to immortality.
He treated her like porcelain. Zhao Qing took over all heavy lifting. Xia Ruyan read mortal poetry to her to keep her mood calm. Lu Changsheng acted as a human shield, refusing to let Wan'er step outside the shack, terrified that a stray spell from a cultivator fight blocks away might somehow harm her.
Finally, on a night when the sky above the Qinghe Market was obscured by heavy, oppressive rainclouds, the time came.
The shack was filled with the pungent smell of boiling water and blood. Lu Changsheng paced back and forth outside the wooden door, the rain soaking his robes, his fingernails digging bloody crescents into his palms. Inside, Wan'er's agonizing screams echoed, tearing at his nerves. Zhao Qing and Xia Ruyan were acting as midwives, relying on knowledge passed down from mortal women.
Childbirth in the mortal world was a coin flip with the grim reaper. Lu Changsheng could do nothing but wait and pray to the Eternal Bloodline Tree.
Hours bled into one another. The screams grew hoarse, then frighteningly quiet. Lu Changsheng felt his heart seize. Had his caution failed? Had he lost his first chance?
Just as he was about to kick the door down and force his spiritual energy into her, regardless of the consequences, a new sound pierced the heavy sound of the rain.
A sharp, demanding, furious wail. The unmistakable cry of a newborn child.
The door creaked open. Xia Ruyan stood there, her face pale, her hands stained with blood, but a tired, brilliant smile illuminated her features.
"Husband," she breathed. "It's a boy. Mother and child are safe."
Lu Changsheng pushed past her, practically throwing himself into the room. The air was thick and metallic. Wan'er lay on the bed, looking like a ghost, soaked in sweat and completely exhausted, but holding a tiny, red, wrinkled bundle wrapped in coarse linen.
Lu Changsheng dropped to his knees beside the bed. His hands trembled violently as he reached out, gently touching the baby's impossibly soft cheek.
"My son," Lu Changsheng whispered, tears freely streaming down his face. "Lu Ping'an. Your name shall be Ping'an. Peace and Safety."
In that exact moment, the universe shifted.
Within his Sea of Consciousness, the golden bud on the lowest branch of the Eternal Bloodline Tree violently shook. The tightly wound petals unfurled in a spectacular explosion of golden light. The bud bloomed into a magnificent, radiant flower.
*Rule One Activated: The Root of Immortality.*
Lu Changsheng gasped out loud, his back arching as a profound, terrifyingly powerful sensation washed over him. It wasn't spiritual energy. It wasn't physical strength. It was the fundamental alteration of his very existence.
He could feel the invisible, heavy chains of time, the ticking clock that bound every mortal and low-level cultivator to a fixed lifespan, shatter violently. The impending doom of aging, the fear of running out of years before reaching the next realm—it was gone. Erased.
As long as the tiny, wailing infant in his arms breathed, as long as this bloodline existed in the world, Lu Changsheng would not die of old age. The heavens could not take his life through time. He had stepped outside the natural cycle of life and death.
He was, in the truest sense of the word regarding lifespan, Immortal.
But the tree wasn't finished.
*Rule Two Activated: The Branches of Feedback.*
A stream of information flowed from the glowing flower directly into Lu Changsheng's mind.
*[Descendant 1: Lu Ping'an (First Generation)]*
*[Spiritual Root: Low-Grade Four-Element Spiritual Root]*
*[Cultivation: Mortal]*
*[Status: Healthy]*
*Initiating Feedback...*
Lu Ping'an was a newborn mortal. He had no cultivation, no skills, no techniques. However, he possessed a Four-Element Spiritual Root. It was terrible by standard cultivation metrics, but it was fundamentally, objectively better than Lu Changsheng's own wretched Five-Element Spiritual Root.
Instantly, a surge of pure, unadulterated primal energy shot from the Bloodline Tree, coursing down through Lu Changsheng's soul and physically manifesting within his real body.
It was agonizing and euphoric simultaneously. Lu Changsheng bit his lip hard to prevent himself from screaming, not wanting to frighten his wives.
The feedback energy ruthlessly invaded his Dantian. It didn't increase his cultivation level, but it attacked the very foundation of his being. The fractured, damaged meridians from his previous Qi deviation were flooded with this pure, conceptual energy. The hairline cracks fused instantly. The chaotic remnants of impure spiritual energy were flushed out of his pores as a sticky, black sweat.
His Five-Element Spiritual Root, a chaotic mess of competing energies, suddenly underwent a subtle but profound shift. It was still a Five-Element root, but the impurities within it were burned away. The foundation of his cultivation, previously a crumbling shack built on sand, was forcefully compressed and rebuilt into solid bedrock.
His Qi Condensation Level 2 base, which had been stagnant and unstable for months, suddenly roared to life, cycling perfectly through his newly healed meridians with unprecedented smoothness. He felt stronger, lighter, and completely whole. The feedback hadn't raised his realm, but it had perfected his foundation, saving him years of painstaking recovery and paving the way for future breakthroughs without the risk of deviation.
Lu Changsheng slowly exhaled a long breath of foul, stagnant air, his eyes shining with a terrifyingly bright light in the dim room.
He looked down at his newborn son, then at his exhausted wife, and finally at the tiny, squalid shack that was his domain.
The cheat was real. The feedback was absolute.
A single, newborn infant with a terrible spiritual root had healed his lethal internal injuries in an instant. What would happen when he had ten children? A hundred? What would happen when they started cultivating?
"Hide," Lu Changsheng thought, a manic, joyous smile spreading across his face, hidden from his wives by the shadows of the room. "Hide deep. Hide well. Never show off. Never take a risk."
He kissed his son's forehead, feeling the unbreakable tether connecting them.
"Grow strong, my son. The world outside is dangerous. But don't worry. Your father will stay right here, safely behind locked doors, and let you conquer the heavens for me."