The persistent, rhythmic dripping of water echoed in the suffocating silence of the room.
*Drip. Drip. Drip.*
Lu Chen groaned, the sound tearing through a throat as dry as parchment. His eyelids felt like they had been forged from lead, heavy and unyielding. When he finally managed to pry them open, the world was a blurred canvas of muted greys and muddy browns. A violent throb pulsed behind his temples, accompanied by a sudden, violent influx of memories that didn't belong to him.
He gasped, clutching his head as two entirely different lifetimes collided within his mind like two speeding carriages on a narrow mountain pass.
In one life, he was Lu Chen, a twenty-eight-year-old mid-level data analyst living in a concrete jungle on Earth. His life had been a monotonous loop of spreadsheets, lukewarm microwave dinners, traffic jams, and the crushing weight of corporate expectations. He remembered the sharp, sudden pain in his chest, the numbness spreading down his left arm, and the fluorescent lights of the office fading into an abyssal black. He had died. A victim of overwork, stress, and a failing heart.
In the other life, he was also Lu Chen, but a nineteen-year-old orphan in the sprawling, dangerous world of the Azure Cloud Continent. This Lu Chen was a loose cultivator—a bottom-feeder in the grand hierarchy of the immortal cultivation world. He had no sect, no master, no wealthy clan to back him. He survived by cultivating a trash-tier manual called the *Green Wood Art*, growing low-grade spirit herbs on a rented half-acre of barren land, and constantly looking over his shoulder. This Lu Chen had died just hours ago, his meager meridians failing under the strain of a minor Qi deviation brought on by forcing a breakthrough with an impure, cheap Spirit Gathering Pill.
"I crossed over," Lu Chen whispered, his voice raspy, unfamiliar, yet entirely his own. "I actually transmigrated."
He sat up slowly, the rough, unvarnished wooden planks of his bed groaning in protest. He took in his surroundings. It was a miserable, dilapidated one-room cabin. The walls were patched with mud and dry straw, and the roof had a leak—the source of the dripping water that pooled in a chipped earthenware bowl near the door. A rickety table sat in the center, holding a burnt-out oil lamp and a few dusty scrolls. The air smelled of damp earth, rotting wood, and the faint, bitter tang of medicinal dregs.
It was a pathetic existence. Yet, as Lu Chen placed a hand over his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart, a wide, genuine smile broke across his face.
He was alive.
"Poverty I can handle," he muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Death, not so much."
As he stood up, bracing himself for the weakness his memories told him he should feel after a Qi deviation, something extraordinary happened. Deep within the core of his being—somewhere between his physical dantian and his ethereal soul—a profound, radiant warmth blossomed.
It was a sensation of absolute purity, like bathing in the first rays of the morning sun after a century of winter. Lu Chen closed his eyes, his consciousness naturally drawn inward by the overwhelming divine aura.
There, floating in the boundless dark void of his spiritual sea, was a lotus.
It was breathtaking. The lotus possessed twelve pristine petals, each glowing with a soft, ethereal azure light. It spun slowly, lazily, releasing ripples of profound Daoist charm that washed over his soul. With every rotation, Lu Chen felt a mysterious, terrifyingly potent energy seep into his flesh, bones, and meridians.
Instinctual knowledge, as if written into his very DNA by the heavens themselves, flooded his mind.
*The Immortal Dao Lotus.*
It wasn't a cultivation technique. It wasn't an artifact he needed to power with spiritual energy. It was a foundational law now bound to his soul, granting him two passive, absolute, and heaven-defying abilities.
First: **Eternal Youth.** His biological clock had simply ceased to exist. His cells would not degrade, his telomeres would not shorten. He would remain in his prime forever. His lifespan was infinite. Unless he was violently killed, starved, or destroyed by illness, he would outlive the very stars in the sky.
Second: **Endless Vitality.** The lotus acted as an infinite reservoir of physical and spiritual stamina. His body would never fatigue from physical exertion. He could run across continents without stopping for breath. Furthermore, his passive healing speed was tremendously amplified, and his essence—his life force—was an overflowing cup that could never run dry.
Lu Chen opened his eyes, his breath hitching in his throat. In a world where supreme emperors, demonic overlords, and heavenly geniuses slaughtered millions, betrayed their own blood, and committed unspeakable atrocities just to add a few centuries to their lifespans... he had already achieved the ultimate goal of cultivation.
Immortality.
"I have infinite time," Lu Chen whispered, the realization hitting him with the force of a falling mountain.
Before he could fully process the gravity of his new reality, a soft, chiming sound echoed in his mind, followed by the appearance of a semi-transparent, light-blue screen hovering in his field of vision.
**[Proficiency System Bound]**
**Name:** Lu Chen
**Lifespan:** 19 / ∞
**Cultivation Realm:** Qi Condensation (Level 2)
**Spiritual Roots:** Five-Element Mixed (Inferior)
**[Cultivation Method]**
* Green Wood Art (Level 2) - Proficiency: 145/200
**[Spells & Skills]**
* Fireball Spell (Novice) - Proficiency: 45/100
* Spirit Vision (Novice) - Proficiency: 22/100
* Herb Farming (Competent) - Proficiency: 310/500
Lu Chen stared at the floating blue panel. A proficiency panel. A classic golden finger for a transmigrator. He focused his mind on the panel, and an explanation of its rules flowed into his understanding.
The panel had one supreme law: **Once Attained, Always Attained; Never Regress.**
If he practiced a sword swing a thousand times and reached the 'Competent' level, even if he didn't pick up a sword for ten thousand years, he would not lose an ounce of his skill. There were no bottlenecks based on 'comprehension' or 'enlightenment.' There was no 'rusty' state. Every drop of sweat, every single repetition, every cycle of Qi he performed would definitively and permanently add to his proficiency. Progress might be agonizingly slow due to his terrible 'Five-Element Mixed Inferior' spiritual roots, but it was absolutely guaranteed.
God rewards the diligent.
Lu Chen walked over to the cracked bronze mirror hanging near his window. The face looking back at him was handsome enough—sharp jawline, dark, intelligent eyes, and black hair tied in a loose knot—but pale and somewhat gaunt from malnutrition.
He leaned against the wooden wall, his mind whirring as he synthesized his situation, his cheats, and his philosophy.
In the novels he had read back on Earth, a protagonist with a cheat would immediately begin plotting. They would venture into deadly ancient ruins to snatch heavenly treasures from under the noses of dangerous beasts. They would offend arrogant young masters to steal their resources. They would fight, bleed, scheme, and claw their way to the peak of the martial world in a matter of decades, leaving a river of blood in their wake.
"Idiots," Lu Chen chuckled softly, shaking his head.
Why in the heavens would he do that? He had infinite time! He had an endless lifespan!
Why risk his life exploring a crumbling tomb with a ninety percent mortality rate just for a hundred spirit stones and a rusty magic sword? He could just stay at home, safely cast a basic spell ten thousand times until it evolved into a forbidden divine art, and earn those hundred spirit stones by spending fifty years safely farming low-grade herbs. Fifty years was a blink of an eye to him now.
He didn't need to fight for resources. If a precious spiritual herb was going up for auction and thousands of cultivators were massacring each other over it, Lu Chen would simply step aside, make a cup of tea, and watch. Why fight for it? He could just plant a seed of that herb and wait ten thousand years for it to mature.
"I am immortal," Lu Chen declared to the empty room, a profound sense of peace washing over him. "I refuse to be a murder hobo. I refuse to be a tragic hero. I want to enjoy this life. I want to drink the finest wines, eat delicacies made from spirit beasts, read interesting books, and..." A smirk played on his lips. "...enjoy the company of beautiful women. What is the point of eternal life if you spend it constantly stressed about being murdered over a shiny rock?"
However, Lu Chen was a practical man. He was an analyst. He knew the variables.
This was the Azure Cloud Continent. It was a realm where strength dictated reason. Mortals were treated like livestock, and low-level cultivators were merely slightly larger insects to the powerful. Demonic cultivators regularly slaughtered entire towns to harvest blood qi. Beast tides swept across the land, devouring everything in their path. Sect wars could annihilate a region without a second thought for collateral damage.
He wanted peace, but peace in this world was a luxury only the strong could afford.
"It is better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war," Lu Chen muttered, adopting a famous Earth saying. "I don't want to fight. I won't go out looking for trouble, and I will gladly yield a treasure if it means avoiding a life-and-death struggle. But..." His eyes hardened slightly. "...if trouble comes to my doorstep, if someone tries to take my life, my freedom, or the things I enjoy... I need the power to slap them into oblivion."
His path was set. He would be the ultimate coward when it came to competing for external resources, and the ultimate madman when it came to personal training. He would practice his skills relentlessly. He would learn everything—alchemy, talismans, formations, weapon forging, cooking, music. He had eternity to master them all. He would build a foundation so wide and incredibly deep that when he finally had to reveal his strength, it would shake the heavens.
But he wouldn't rush. The progress of his skills could be slow; he didn't mind.
Lu Chen stretched his arms, feeling the satisfying pop of his joints. "Let's test this Endless Vitality."
He dropped to the floor, placing his hands flat against the rough wood, and began to do pushups.
One. Two. Three. Ten. Fifty. One hundred.
On Earth, a hundred pushups would have left his arms feeling like jelly and his lungs burning. Here, as a Qi Condensation level 2 cultivator, his body was naturally stronger than a mortal's, but his physical fitness was still poor. Yet, as he reached two hundred, he realized he wasn't breathing heavily.
The Immortal Lotus in his soul pulsed gently. An invisible, cool energy continuously flooded his muscles, washing away lactic acid the moment it formed, repairing micro-tears in the muscle fibers instantaneously, and supplying endless oxygen and energy to his cells.
Five hundred. A thousand. Two thousand.
He was moving like a machine, his form perfect. He felt no physical exhaustion. The only slight strain was mental boredom.
He pushed himself up and stood, brushing the dust from his hands. He wasn't even sweating.
"Terrifying," Lu Chen whispered, looking at his hands. "If I can fight without ever getting tired, if my spiritual energy and physical stamina regenerate faster than I can spend them... I am the ultimate battle of attrition."
He summoned the interface again.
**[New Skill Acquired]**
* Body Forging (Mortal) - Novice - Proficiency: 15/100
"Nice," he smiled.
Suddenly, a series of sharp, rhythmic knocks echoed against his fragile wooden door.
"Little Chen? Lu Chen? Are you dead in there?" a woman's voice called out. The tone was sharp, laced with impatience, but underlying it was a thread of genuine concern.
Lu Chen accessed his predecessor's memories. *Mei Lin.* She was a widow who lived in the cabin about a hundred yards away. She was twenty-five, a Qi Condensation Level 3 cultivator, and arguably the most successful loose cultivator in their immediate slum area because she knew how to brew basic medicinal wines. She was also incredibly beautiful in a mature, worldly sort of way. The previous Lu Chen had been terrified of her sharp tongue and intimidated by her higher cultivation level, usually keeping his head bowed when she spoke to him.
Lu Chen walked over and unbarred the door, pulling it open.
Standing on his threshold was a woman who made his newly rejuvenated heart skip a beat. Mei Lin wore a simple, light-green silk robe that clung to her generous curves. A wide sash was tied tightly around her waist, emphasizing a figure that was ripe like a peach ready to be plucked. Her raven-black hair was held up by a cheap wooden hairpin, with a few stray strands framing a face that was both elegant and hardened by the realities of the cultivation world. Her lips were painted a subtle red, and her dark eyes swept over him critically.
In her hands, she carried a steaming wooden bowl. The scent of spiritual rice and faint medicinal herbs wafted into the room.
"I saw your spiritual energy go chaotic earlier this morning," Mei Lin said, her gaze lingering on his face, searching for signs of internal injury. She frowned, clearly confused. "I expected to find you coughing up blood or a corpse. You had a Qi deviation, didn't you? Why do you look so... vibrant?"
It was true. Thanks to the Immortal Lotus, the damage from the Qi deviation had been instantly healed, and his skin had lost its sickly pallor, taking on a healthy, jade-like glow.
Lu Chen leaned casually against the doorframe, a relaxed, confident smile playing on his lips. This was not the timid, desperate boy she knew. This was a man with eternity on his side, a man who had decided to enjoy the pleasures of life.
"Sister Mei," Lu Chen said, his voice smooth and carrying a hint of playful teasing. "Were you worried about me? I'm touched. If I knew a little Qi deviation would bring a fairy like you to my doorstep with a home-cooked meal, I would have deviated a long time ago."
Mei Lin's eyes widened a fraction. The bowl in her hands trembled slightly. She stared at him as if he had grown a second head. The Lu Chen she knew couldn't string two words together in her presence without stuttering. Who was this confident, silver-tongued man looking at her with such unapologetic appreciation in his eyes?
"Have you lost your mind along with your cultivation?" she scoffed, recovering her composure quickly. She pushed past him, walking into the room and setting the bowl down on the rickety table. "Close the door. You're letting the spiritual aura of the soup out."
Lu Chen chuckled, closing the door and turning to face her. The small room suddenly felt very intimate.
"Eat," she commanded, crossing her arms under her substantial chest, a gesture that only drew Lu Chen's eyes exactly where she probably didn't intend—or perhaps she did. "It's leftover Spirit Grains mixed with some minor blood-nourishing herbs. Consider it a loan. You owe me two spirit stone fragments for this."
Lu Chen walked over to the table but didn't immediately reach for the bowl. Instead, he stepped close to her. Close enough to smell the scent of jasmine oil in her hair and the natural, intoxicating musk of a healthy woman.
"Only two fragments?" Lu Chen murmured, holding her gaze. He let his eyes drop briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. "For a life-saving meal prepared by your own hands, Sister Mei? I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
Mei Lin's breath hitched. A faint flush crept up her neck. She was a widow in a harsh world; men usually looked at her with either pure predatory lust or disdain for her loose cultivator status. Lu Chen's gaze, however, was different. It was appreciative, burning, yet entirely respectful. It made her feel a strange, fluttering heat in her stomach.
"Stop talking nonsense," she said, though her voice lacked its usual bite. She took half a step back, suddenly feeling very flustered. "Just eat it before it gets cold. I have my own fields to tend to."
She turned to leave, but as she walked past him, Lu Chen reached out and gently caught her wrist.
Mei Lin froze. As a Level 3 Qi Condensation cultivator, she could easily throw him off, but the touch of his hand was surprisingly warm, firm, and grounding. She looked back at him, her heart thumping against her ribs.
"Thank you, Mei Lin," Lu Chen said, dropping the 'Sister' and speaking with a soft, earnest sincerity. "I mean it. In this cutthroat world, you didn't have to check on me. I won't forget this kindness."
Mei Lin stared into his dark eyes, finding herself completely lost in their depths. There was a profound calmness in him, a mountain-like stillness that she had never seen in any man, let alone a nineteen-year-old boy.
"You..." she started, her voice barely a whisper. "You really are different today. Did the deviation knock some sense into you?"
Lu Chen stepped closer, closing the distance she had just created. He didn't let go of her wrist, instead sliding his hand down to gently interlock his fingers with hers.
"Let's just say I had an epiphany at death's door," Lu Chen murmured, lifting his free hand to tuck a stray strand of raven hair behind her ear. His fingertips brushed against her warm cheek, and he felt her shiver. "I realized life is too short to spend it shivering in fear of tomorrow. I realized I should appreciate the beautiful things right in front of me."
Mei Lin's breathing grew shallow. She was not a naive maiden. She knew exactly what was happening, and heaven help her, she didn't want it to stop. It had been so long since someone had touched her with such gentle, burning intent.
"Lu Chen..." she breathed, her gaze dropping to his lips. "You are playing with fire."
"I have a high resistance to heat," he whispered back, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face.
He didn't hesitate anymore. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
Mei Lin let out a soft, startled gasp against his mouth, but she didn't pull away. After a second of hesitation, her hands flew up to grip the lapels of his robe, pulling him closer. The kiss, initially gentle, quickly ignited into a blazing inferno of pent-up tension and undeniable chemistry.
Lu Chen tasted the faint residue of spiritual wine on her lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. He marveled at the softness of her curves against his own lean frame. Thanks to the Immortal Lotus, his senses were heightened; every touch, every breath, every slide of silk against skin was magnified a hundredfold.
Mei Lin let out a soft moan, her tongue parting his lips, meeting his with an eager, desperate hunger. She pushed him backward until the back of his knees hit the edge of the wooden bed.
"Are you sure about this?" Lu Chen whispered, breaking the kiss for a fraction of a second, his breath hot against her neck as he kissed the sensitive skin just below her jaw. "I have nothing but myself to offer."
"Shut up," Mei Lin gasped, her hands fumbling with the sash of his robe. "Don't ruin the mood with your poverty. Just... make me feel alive."
Lu Chen obliged with a fierce grin. He effortlessly lifted her, marveling at how light she felt despite her voluptuous figure—another testament to his boundless vitality—and laid her back onto the creaking bed. The flimsy silk of her robe parted, revealing skin as pale and smooth as fine porcelain.
What followed was an afternoon that completely shattered Mei Lin's understanding of the world. Cultivators, especially low-level ones, often lacked stamina in the mortal sense, their energies focused on absorbing Qi rather than physical endurance.
But Lu Chen was an anomaly. He was a force of nature.
The Immortal Lotus hummed gently in his soul, continuously flooding his body with boundless vitality. He didn't tire. He didn't lose his breath. He possessed an inexhaustible well of energy and patience. He treated her body like a precious instrument, taking his time, exploring every inch of her, driving her to peaks of pleasure she hadn't known existed, and just when she thought she would pass out from the sheer bliss, he would start all over again with the exact same vigor as the first minute.
By the time the sun began to set, casting long, golden shadows through the cracks in the cabin walls, the room was heavy with the scent of sex, sweat, and lingering passion.
Mei Lin lay sprawled across his chest, her chest heaving, her skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. She looked utterly completely spent, her eyes half-closed in a daze of absolute satisfaction.
"Monster," she mumbled affectionately, pressing a weak kiss to his collarbone. "What kind of beast possessed you? I feel like my bones have melted."
Lu Chen chuckled, wrapping a protective arm around her bare shoulders. He felt fantastic. Not an ounce of fatigue weighed him down. In fact, he felt energized.
"Just making up for lost time, Sister Mei," he smiled lazily, staring up at the leaky roof.
He waited until her breathing evened out and she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Lu Chen slid out from under her, pulling the thin, worn blanket over her shoulders.
He walked over to the table. The bowl of spiritual rice soup was completely cold, but he ate it anyway, wolfing it down in a few bites. The meager spiritual energy in the food settled in his stomach, a tiny drop in the vast ocean of his needs.
He didn't put his robes back on. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor in the center of the room, assuming the basic lotus position for cultivation.
It was time to get to work. Enjoying life was the goal, but strength was the foundation that made the goal possible.
He closed his eyes, centering his mind, and began to circulate the *Green Wood Art*.
It was a terrible, rudimentary technique. It felt like trying to suck water through a straw filled with mud. Lu Chen reached out with his spiritual senses, feeling the ambient spiritual energy of heaven and earth floating in the room. It was sparse here in the outer slums.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he drew a wisp of green, wood-attribute spiritual energy into his body. The energy entered through his pores, stinging slightly as it navigated his narrow, frail meridians.
He guided the energy through a complete cycle—down the arms, through the torso, down the legs, and back up to the dantian. The process took almost an hour. When the wisp of energy finally settled into his spiritual sea, it was barely larger than a grain of sand.
For an ordinary cultivator, this level of talent would be a death sentence of despair. They would spend a year cultivating just to increase their spiritual reserves by a fraction, knowing they would die of old age before ever reaching the Foundation Establishment realm.
But Lu Chen just smiled and opened his eyes to check the panel.
**[Cultivation Method]**
* Green Wood Art (Level 2) - Proficiency: 146/200 *(+1)*
The proficiency had gone up permanently. His meridians hadn't strained, his foundation hadn't weakened. He hadn't hit a 'bottleneck' where the energy dissipated due to poor comprehension. The panel mathematically converted his effort into absolute progress.
He didn't need rare pills. He didn't need to fight over a spirit spring. He just needed to sit here and cycle the energy. One cycle was one point. If it took him ten years to reach Level 3, so be it. If it took him a hundred years to reach Level 4, so be it.
He had an eternity.
Lu Chen looked out the small window at the rising moon. The silver light spilled over the rugged landscape of the Azure Cloud Continent. Somewhere out there, geniuses were bleeding for artifacts, sects were plotting wars, and old monsters were sacrificing virgins to extend their lives by a decade.
"Fight amongst yourselves," Lu Chen whispered to the moon, a serene, unshakeable confidence settling over his soul. "I'll be right here. Grinding my skills, tending my garden, and loving my women. Let's see who is standing at the end of time."
He closed his eyes again, ignoring the cold, ignoring the leaky roof, and began his second cycle of the Green Wood Art.
*Green Wood Art +1.*
*Green Wood Art +1.*
The immortal's journey of a million years had just begun with a single, unhurried step.