The scent of damp earth and rotting leaves was the first thing Lu Yuan registered. The second was the splitting headache, a throbbing agony that felt as though a rusted iron spike was being repeatedly driven through his temples.
He gasped, his eyes flying open to stare at a ceiling made of rotting thatch and crooked bamboo poles. This wasn't his modern, minimalist apartment. This wasn't the ceiling he had fallen asleep under after a long, exhausting day of corporate drudgery.
A flood of foreign memories crashed into his mind, violent and unyielding. He gritted his teeth, his hands clutching his head as two distinct lifetimes violently stitched themselves together.
He was Lu Yuan, a twenty-five-year-old accountant from Earth who had died quietly in his sleep.
He was also Lu Yuan, a twenty-two-year-old rogue cultivator in the vast, unforgiving Azure Cloud Realm.
When the pain finally subsided, leaving behind a dull ache and a profound sense of disorientation, Lu Yuan slowly sat up on the hard wooden bed. He looked down at his hands—calloused, rough, smeared with dirt, and trembling slightly. These were not the hands of a man who typed on keyboards all day. These were the hands of a farmer. A spiritual farmer, to be exact.
"Reincarnation," he muttered, his voice raspy and dry. "I actually crossed over."
According to the memories of his predecessor, this body belonged to a bottom-tier independent cultivator living on the outskirts of the Clear Breeze Valley, a small market town controlled by the distant Flowing Water Sect. The original Lu Yuan possessed a miserable pseudo-spiritual root, the lowest grade possible. He was at the second level of Qi Condensation, eking out a pathetic living by farming two acres of low-grade spirit fields rented from the local landlord.
Why had the original Lu Yuan died?
Exhaustion and Qi deviation. The rent for the spirit fields was due in a month—a staggering ten low-grade spirit stones. The original host, desperate to increase his cultivation to cast higher-tier farming spells and boost his harvest, had forcefully circulated his meager spiritual energy. His meridians had ruptured, his heart had given out, and his soul had scattered, making room for a tired accountant from another universe to take up the mantle.
"What a miserable existence," Lu Yuan sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "In my past life, I was a corporate slave paying off a mortgage. In this life, I'm a cultivation slave paying off spirit field rent. Is there no escape from the grind?"
As he grumbled, he suddenly felt a profound, pulsating warmth originating from the center of his chest, radiating outward into his limbs. He closed his eyes, naturally turning his internal vision inward—a basic skill of even the lowest Qi Condensation cultivator.
What he saw in the depths of his sea of consciousness made his breath hitch.
Floating in the endless void of his mind was a lotus. It was ethereal, glowing with a soft, transcendent azure light. It had nine pristine petals, each carved from what looked like liquid jade, and it rotated slowly, releasing waves of ancient, boundless vitality.
*The Immortal Lotus.*
The name appeared in his mind instinctively, as if it had been etched into his soul the moment he crossed over. Along with the name came the profound understanding of its function.
It granted him three things: Eternal Youth, an Endless Lifespan, and Absolute Regeneration.
Lu Yuan opened his eyes, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Endless lifespan? In the cultivation world, emperors, sect masters, and demonic overlords slaughtered millions, betrayed their kin, and scoured deadly secret realms just to add a few decades or centuries to their lives. The entire premise of cultivation was a heaven-defying struggle to steal longevity from the Dao.
And he had just been handed infinity.
To test the lotus, he looked down at his chest. The original host had suffered severe internal injuries from his Qi deviation. His meridians were torn, his dantian was fractured, and he had been coughing up black blood before he died.
As the azure light from the lotus pulsed, Lu Yuan felt a soothing, cooling sensation wash over his broken meridians. It felt like cool spring water washing over a severe burn. He watched in awe as the spiritual damage knitted itself back together in a matter of seconds. The dull ache in his chest vanished, replaced by a thrumming, vibrant health he hadn't felt since he was a teenager in his past life.
He jumped off the bed, feeling light and energetic. He found a cracked bronze mirror resting on a rickety wooden table in the corner of the hut. Wiping away the dust, he peered into it.
Staring back at him was a young man with a pale, average face, framed by messy black hair. But the exhaustion, the deep bags under the eyes, and the premature wrinkles of a man worked to the bone were gone. His skin was smooth, his eyes were bright, and he looked precisely eighteen years old.
"Eternal youth," Lu Yuan whispered, touching his cheek. "I will never age past my prime."
Before he could fully process the magnitude of his golden finger, another anomaly occurred.
*Ding.*
A crisp, clear sound chimed in his mind, and a translucent blue panel materialized in the air before him.
**[Name]: Lu Yuan**
**[Lifespan]: 18 / ∞**
**[Cultivation]: Qi Condensation Level 2 (12/100)**
**[Cultivation Method]: Evergreen Qi Art (Initiate: 45/100)**
**[Spells]:**
**- Spring Breeze and Rain Spell (Initiate: 80/100)**
**- Earth Turning Art (Initiate: 65/100)**
**- Fireball Spell (Novice: 12/100)**
**- Golden Shield Spell (Novice: 5/100)**
**[Professions]: None**
Lu Yuan stared at the floating blue text. "A system panel?"
He focused his mind on the panel, and a single, profound rule transmitted itself into his brain: *Once attained, always attained; never regress.*
It was a proficiency panel. Every time he practiced a skill, a spell, or a cultivation method, his proficiency would increase. Unlike other cultivators who faced bottlenecks, diminishing returns, or the degradation of skills if left unpracticed, Lu Yuan's progress was absolute. If he gained one experience point, it was permanently etched into his Dao foundation. He would never experience a bottleneck; as long as he put in the effort, he would inevitably break through.
Lu Yuan sat heavily on the wooden stool next to the mirror, his mind racing as he synthesized his two golden fingers.
Endless lifespan plus absolute, bottleneck-free progression.
In the cultivation world, talent was everything. A heavenly spiritual root could reach the Golden Core realm in a few decades. A poor spiritual root like his might never reach Foundation Establishment in a standard mortal lifespan of a hundred years.
"But I don't have a standard lifespan," Lu Yuan murmured, a slow, relaxed smile spreading across his face. "If it takes a genius ten years to reach Foundation Establishment, and it takes me a thousand years... what does it matter? To infinity, a thousand years is but a blink of an eye."
He recalled the memories of the original host. The cultivation world was a meat grinder. Cultivators constantly fought over spirit mines, rare herbs, ancient inheritances, and heavenly treasures. They ventured into perilous secret realms where the mortality rate was ninety percent, all for a slim chance to find an herb that might extend their life by fifty years or break a cultivation bottleneck.
"I don't need to fight for opportunities," Lu Yuan reasoned out loud. "Why should I risk my life exploring a collapsed immortal's tomb for a longevity pill when I already live forever? Why should I fight a demonic beast over a spirit herb to cure a bottleneck when I don't have bottlenecks?"
His philosophy rapidly crystallized. The safest path to the apex of the universe was simply to outlive everyone else while steadily grinding his skills.
However, Lu Yuan was not naive. He had read enough web novels in his past life, and he had the grim memories of the original host to ground him in reality. This was a world where a high-level cultivator flying overhead could accidentally obliterate a mortal village as collateral damage. It was a world where rogue cultivators murdered each other in dark alleys over three spirit stones.
"A gentleman does not stand under a crumbling wall," Lu Yuan recited an old proverb from his home world. "Endless lifespan does not mean immortality. If someone cuts my head off, I still die. The lotus regenerates wounds, but if my soul is destroyed, I'm finished."
He looked at his miserable list of spells. The *Fireball Spell* and *Golden Shield Spell* were both at the lowest 'Novice' level.
"It's better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war," he concluded, his eyes flashing with determination. "I won't actively seek out trouble. I won't fight for heavenly treasures. I will live leisurely, farm my fields, and drink my tea. But... I must possess the power to slaughter anyone who tries to flip my tea table."
He needed to arm himself to the teeth. He had all the time in the world to master every single auxiliary profession: Alchemy, Talisman Making, Array Formations, Weapon Forging, Spirit Beast Taming. He could slowly, methodically max out the proficiency of the most lethal offensive spells and the most impenetrable defensive barriers.
There was no rush. He could take his time.
With a clear path laid out before him, the oppressive anxiety of the original host vanished, replaced by a profound sense of tranquility. Lu Yuan stretched his arms, feeling his joints pop, and walked toward the wooden door of his hut.
He pushed it open.
The morning light of the Azure Cloud Realm spilled into the dark hut. The air was incredibly fresh, thick with a subtle, sweet spiritual energy that did not exist on industrial Earth.
Before him stretched his domain: two acres of meticulously plowed spirit fields situated at the base of a gently sloping green mountain. In the distance, the faint, misty peaks of the Flowing Water Sect pierced the clouds, grand and unapproachable.
Surrounding his small plot were bamboo fences, and off to the side was a small, crudely built chicken coop.
"Time to start the day," Lu Yuan smiled, stepping out into the dewy grass.
His immediate concern was the spirit field. The original host was growing Azure Spirit Rice, a staple food for low-level cultivators that contained mild spiritual energy, aiding in daily cultivation. The harvest was due in two months, and the quality of the rice depended heavily on the daily maintenance—specifically, watering it with spiritual water.
Lu Yuan walked to the edge of the field. The green stalks of the spirit rice were currently drooping slightly, their spiritual aura faint.
He took a deep breath, circulating the thin spiritual energy in his dantian according to the *Evergreen Qi Art*. He formed a series of hand seals, his fingers moving clumsily at first as he relied on muscle memory.
*"Spring Breeze and Rain Spell!"*
He pointed his index and middle fingers toward the sky above the field. His meager spiritual energy flowed out, interacting with the natural water vapor in the air.
Above the two acres of land, a small, dark cloud rapidly coalesced. Moments later, a gentle, shimmering rain began to fall. The raindrops were not ordinary water; they were infused with a tiny fraction of Lu Yuan's spiritual energy, making them glow with a faint blue light.
As the spiritual rain soaked into the earth, the drooping stalks of the Azure Spirit Rice visibly perked up, their leaves rustling happily as they eagerly absorbed the moisture.
Lu Yuan maintained the spell for ten minutes until his dantian felt dangerously empty. He cut the connection, panting slightly, wiping sweat from his brow.
*Ding.*
**[Spring Breeze and Rain Spell proficiency +1]**
**[Spring Breeze and Rain Spell (Initiate: 81/100)]**
Seeing the numbers tick up filled Lu Yuan with an immense sense of satisfaction. In a world of uncertainty, this clear, quantifiable progress was deeply comforting.
Next, he walked over to the chicken coop. Inside were three Black-Feathered Spirit Chickens. They were the lowest grade of spirit beasts, entirely unsuited for combat, but their meat was tender and rich in spiritual energy, and they occasionally laid spirit eggs. They were the original host's most valuable assets aside from the crops.
"Cluck, cluck, cluck," Lu Yuan called out, tossing a handful of ordinary grain mixed with a few discarded, withered spirit rice leaves into the pen.
The three chickens, roughly the size of small dogs with glossy black feathers that shimmered with a metallic sheen, rushed forward, pecking aggressively at the food.
Lu Yuan watched them with a smile. "Eat up, get fat. Once my farming stabilizes, I'll breed more of you. Maybe try crossbreeding you with something spicier later down the line."
Having finished his morning chores, Lu Yuan decided it was time for breakfast. He went back into the hut and started a fire in the traditional stone hearth. Instead of using flint, he decided to practice.
He focused his mind, drawing the sparse spiritual energy from his meridians into his palm.
*"Fireball Spell."*
A small, wavering sphere of orange flame ignited hovering an inch above his palm. It was weak, roughly the size of a tennis ball, and flickered as if a strong breeze might extinguish it. The *Novice* level of the spell meant it was practically useless in combat, barely capable of singing an opponent's eyebrows.
But it was perfect for starting a fire.
He tossed the fireball into the hearth, instantly igniting the dry wood.
*Ding.*
**[Fireball Spell proficiency +1]**
**[Fireball Spell (Novice: 13/100)]**
Lu Yuan chuckled. "Who needs a lighter when you have magic?"
He cooked a simple porridge using a small handful of Azure Spirit Rice he had saved, mixed with ordinary vegetables. He also brewed a pot of tea using some wild tea leaves he found growing on the mountainside near his house. They weren't true spirit tea leaves—those were exorbitantly expensive—but they had absorbed ambient spiritual energy over the years, giving them a refreshing, minty aftertaste that cleared the mind.
Taking his bowl of porridge and his clay teapot, Lu Yuan sat on a wooden stump outside his hut. The morning sun was fully up now, casting a warm golden glow over the valley.
He ate slowly, savoring the distinct, rich flavor of the spirit rice. Each bite sent a tiny, warm current of spiritual energy into his stomach, which slowly diffused into his limbs. He sipped his tea, feeling the warm breeze rustle his hair.
Down in the valley, he could see other small huts dotting the landscape. He could faintly hear the sounds of shouting—likely other rogue cultivators arguing over a few inches of boundary lines, or haggling aggressively over the price of a low-grade talisman.
To them, time was money. Time was life. Every second wasted was a second lost on the path to immortality. They were trapped in a frantic, desperate rat race, constantly looking over their shoulders, constantly pushing their limits until they broke.
Lu Yuan took another sip of his tea, sighing contentedly.
"Let them fight," he murmured to himself. "I have all the time in the world. Today, I'll farm. Tomorrow, I'll farm. In a hundred years, I'll still be farming, and they'll all be dust."
He spent the rest of the afternoon engaging in light labor. He used the *Earth Turning Art* to loosen the soil around the spirit rice, ensuring the roots could breathe. The spell acted like a magical rototiller, effortlessly churning the dirt.
*Ding.*
**[Earth Turning Art proficiency +1]**
He then took a wooden bucket and walked a mile to a nearby spiritual spring to draw fresh water. Along the way, he encountered a few other rogue cultivators.
One was Old Man Chen, a grizzled man in his sixties who was stuck at the third level of Qi Condensation. He looked at Lu Yuan with surprise.
"Boy Lu, you're up and about? I heard from Widow Zhang that you coughed up a liter of black blood yesterday. Thought you were a goner for sure."
Lu Yuan offered a polite, humble bow, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. "Thank you for your concern, Senior Chen. It was a close call, a minor Qi deviation. Luckily, I managed to stabilize my breath. I just need to rest and take things slowly from now on."
Old Man Chen shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of pity and condescension. "You youngsters are always rushing. Pushing yourself to the brink for a few extra spirit stones. Mark my words, Lu, if you don't secure a proper inheritance or join a merchant caravan as a guard, farming these two acres will bleed you dry. The rent goes up every five years."
"Senior's words are wise. I will keep them in mind," Lu Yuan replied respectfully, showing no arrogance. In the cultivation world, face was important, and appearing weak and submissive to those stronger than you was the best way to avoid trouble.
As he walked back with his water, Lu Yuan's mind churned. Old Man Chen was right about the rent. Ten low-grade spirit stones a month was steep. The harvest from two acres of Azure Spirit Rice, if sold at market value, would yield roughly fifteen spirit stones. That left him with only five spirit stones of profit for an entire season's worth of backbreaking labor. Five spirit stones was barely enough to buy a few low-grade Qi Gathering Pills, let alone save up for a better cultivation technique or defensive artifacts.
"I need a side hustle," Lu Yuan pondered as he watered a patch of ordinary vegetables he had planted for his own consumption. "Farming alone won't generate the capital I need to fund my skill grinding."
He opened his proficiency panel mentally.
**[Professions]: None**
He needed to pick up a craft. Alchemy was incredibly lucrative, but the start-up costs were astronomical. You needed an alchemy furnace, a steady supply of earth-fire or a high-level fire spell, and mountains of expensive spirit herbs to practice with because the failure rate for beginners was over ninety percent.
Forging weapons had similar barriers to entry.
"Talismans," Lu Yuan decided, his eyes brightening. "Talisman crafting."
To become a Talisman Master, you needed a spiritual brush, cinnabar ink mixed with spirit beast blood, and special yellow spirit paper. It required precise control of spiritual energy and the memorization of complex runic patterns. The failure rate was also high, but the materials were significantly cheaper than alchemy ingredients. Furthermore, talismans were consumable items with constant demand. Every cultivator, high or low, bought talismans for protection, utility, or offense.
Moreover, having a stack of explosive fire talismans in his storage pouch would greatly increase his sense of security. If someone tried to rob him, he wouldn't need to fight them in a prolonged magical duel; he could just throw a hundred explosive talismans at their face and vaporize them.
"Yes. Talismans. I'll save up my remaining spirit stones this month, buy a beginner's talisman crafting kit, and start grinding the proficiency."
With a plan in place, the rest of the day passed peacefully. Lu Yuan spent his time deliberately practicing his spells to drain his spiritual energy, then sitting cross-legged on his wooden bed to practice his *Evergreen Qi Art* to replenish it.
The *Evergreen Qi Art* was a wood-attribute, neutral, and incredibly common cultivation method. It had no offensive capabilities, and its cultivation speed was notoriously slow. However, it had one distinct advantage: the spiritual energy it produced was exceptionally pure and gentle, making it highly unlikely to cause Qi deviation, and it had a slight nourishing effect on the body.
For the immortal Lu Yuan, a slow cultivation speed was a non-issue. The gentleness and stability of the *Evergreen Qi Art* made it the perfect foundation for his endless life.
As night fell, draping the Clear Breeze Valley in a blanket of silver moonlight, Lu Yuan was sitting on his stool outside, repeatedly casting the *Golden Shield Spell*.
A faint, translucent golden barrier, roughly the size of a dinner plate, flickered into existence in front of his chest, only to shatter a few seconds later.
*Ding.*
**[Golden Shield Spell proficiency +1]**
**[Golden Shield Spell (Novice: 18/100)]**
He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Magic was exhausting.
Suddenly, his ears twitched. The rustling of the bamboo fence at the edge of his spirit field sounded slightly off. It wasn't the wind. It was rhythmic, stealthy.
Lu Yuan's heart skipped a beat. He immediately ceased his spiritual circulation, holding his breath and sinking into the shadows of his thatched roof.
In the dim moonlight, he saw a shadow moving quickly between the rows of his precious Azure Spirit Rice. It was about the size of a large cat, moving close to the ground.
Lu Yuan narrowed his eyes, focusing his meager spiritual energy into his vision.
It was a Shadow Rat. A low-tier demonic beast, barely equivalent to a Level 1 Qi Condensation cultivator. They were notorious pests in the valley, known for digging under fences and devouring unripe spirit crops. If left alone, a single rat could destroy a quarter-acre of rice in one night.
To the original host, a Shadow Rat was a formidable opponent. They were incredibly fast, their teeth could bite through low-grade defensive spells, and fighting one usually resulted in nasty bites that required expensive medicinal pastes to heal.
But Lu Yuan didn't panic. He remembered his philosophy. *It is better to be a warrior in a garden.*
He didn't make a sound. He didn't shout to scare it away, because it would just come back tomorrow. He slowly raised his right hand, pointing his index and middle fingers toward the creature, which was currently gnawing happily on a stalk of rice twenty feet away.
He didn't use the *Fireball Spell*. Fire would burn his crops.
Instead, he channeled his spiritual energy, visualizing the flow of wind. In the memories of the original host, there was a spell he had learned but rarely used because it was too difficult to aim and cost too much energy: The *Wind Blade Spell*.
Lu Yuan closed his eyes for a split second, calling upon the proficiency panel. He had ground this spell intensely for the last hour.
*Ding.*
**[Wind Blade Spell (Novice: 45/100)]**
It wasn't high, but it was enough.
He opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto the Shadow Rat. He snapped his fingers forward.
*"Wind Blade."*
There was no flashy light, no loud explosion. Just a sharp *hiss* as a crescent of compressed air, virtually invisible in the dark, shot forward.
Because Lu Yuan had ground the proficiency, his casting speed was exceptionally smooth, and his control over the trajectory was far superior to the original host's clumsy attempts.
*Thwack.*
The sound was muffled. The Shadow Rat didn't even have time to squeak. The wind blade cleanly severed its head from its body, the momentum carrying the blade a few inches into the dirt without damaging the surrounding rice stalks.
Lu Yuan let out a slow, controlled breath. He stood up, picked up a small iron hoe, and walked over to the carcass.
Blood was pooling on the soil, rich in spiritual energy from the rat's diet. It would make excellent fertilizer.
He picked up the rat by its tail. It was heavy, at least ten pounds of solid meat.
"Well," Lu Yuan smiled in the moonlight, his nerves settling down. "It seems meat is back on the menu for tomorrow's porridge."
He walked back to his hut, cleaned the rat with practiced efficiency, and hung the meat to dry in a cool corner. He then washed his hands, boiled some hot water using his *Fireball Spell*, and scrubbed his face.
Sitting on his bed, he looked out the small window at the distant, towering peaks of the immortal sects, shrouded in clouds and mystery. Up there, geniuses were fighting for supremacy, shedding blood over ancient inheritances, their lives burning bright and fast like falling stars.
Lu Yuan pulled his thin blanket over his shoulders.
"Fools," he whispered affectionately into the quiet night.
He closed his eyes, sinking into the peaceful, steady rhythm of the *Evergreen Qi Art*, his mind clear, his lifespan endless, his proficiency slowly ticking upward.
*Ding.*
**[Evergreen Qi Art proficiency +1]**
The path to immortality was long, but Lu Yuan was in no rush. He had forever to get there.