The universe is vast and boundless, filled with galaxies and countless infinite mysteries.
When the origin of civilization reaches its peak and fortune turns after a period of adversity, it heralds the alternation of civilizations and the shifting of the sun and moon. Naturally, this boundless world contains all manner of strange and wondrous things.
In a forest large enough, you will find all sorts of birds.
Ye Long was a literary prodigy of the modern era. Born in the twenty-first century, he was never one to keep his penchant for spicy romance to himself. Aside from idling away his days, his mind was constantly stirred by restless, racy little impulses. In his view, major crises never befell him, and trivial matters never crossed his doorstep.
Yet... as a seasoned slacker who had knocked around the modern world, how could he possibly lack the full suite of food, drink, amusement, leisure, and sleep?
Putting aside whether he felt the hardships of urban life or the heavy pressures of making ends meet, the mere act of harboring a dream always convinced him that once he made something of himself, he would finally be the master of his own fate.
Right now, he was doing the exact same thing day after day, handling a bustling workload entirely on his own, though not without a touch of monotony.
Ahem... well, you see: driving meant never running a red light, and stealing glances at the pale, shapeless thighs filling the streets naturally could not be accompanied by a leering gaze. Ye Long had actually gone and studied little scripts. Whether it was high-end delicate maidens or ambiguous older sisters, he would plunge into them so deeply that he could not extricate himself. As the old saying goes: review it day and night. With three hundred and sixty-five days and nights in a year, he refused to believe he couldn't master it.
In the dead of night, despite the slight chill of the autumn wind, it was hard to hold back the surging blood of the youth: "Tsk tsk tsk," "Harder," "Boom," "Use some force"... Carried away by the moment, it was enough to make one unable to stop.
Ye Long wielded his brush with grand abandon, actually sketching out with his bare hands *Season 1 of Urban Beauties and Blossoms*, titled: *Orchid Fragrance Under the Roses*.
Seeing his little masterpiece, Ye Long felt he had truly embodied the proper posture of a modern youth. Ahem... let me tell you: this was what supported him step by step all the way until last night. So much so that in broad daylight, he felt as though he had spent the night in wild dissipation. Feeling a thrill wrack his entire body, he couldn't help but recall last night's absurd and sigh-inducing folly.
At the thought of this, he couldn't help but mutter a curse under his breath. It was a pity... he had waited in vain for nothing.
"Well... I'm at a loss for words. Could it be that since heaven endowed me with talent for a purpose, burying my head in blueprints could actually lead to a wet dream?" Ye Long muttered to himself.
Yet as his heartbeat inexplicably accelerated, he turned into a research fanatic. His face flushed with such intense excitement that his feverish heart began to throb restlessly. Ye Long suddenly picked up last night's flower blueprint again, feeling a secret smugness. If the world were truly this dull, wouldn't it be an insult to his extensive reading background?
Don't let Ye Long's current minor fame fool you; it was all just empty reputation. His actual goal was crystal clear: research, research, and more research! He swore not to turn back until he became a "grandmaster of ancient studies."
Right now, however, a difficult problem had him completely stumped: what on earth was the difference between classical and ancient studies? Perhaps, just like the poet immortal's autobiographical confession—"draw your sword to cut the water, and it flows all the faster"—Ye Long could not help muttering:
"Perhaps the esteemed Taibai of back then was much the same."
In an instant, he was overcome with emotion. Despite existing in different eras, this feeling of unrecognized talent was an exact match. One could thus imagine how the implications of poetry could not only stir a myriad of feelings, but also deeply resonate within one's soul. Even as the years easily slipped away, mortals could never escape a plot of dusty soil. Yet these poems created by the ancients were still passed down to this day!
"Truly awe-inspiring and out of reach." Ye Long's heart stirred, and he spared no praise. "It's hard to imagine that although the ancients were crude, they possessed supreme wisdom. Observing farewells from pavilions, borrowing the revolving sun and moon—every single word and line could dissect their very essence."
Regardless of whether the winds and clouds of this world were born from his own generation, from you, or from him, they clearly weren't enough to look at...
With this sudden flash of inspiration, Ye Long involuntarily brandished his ink and brush, smoothly dashing out dozens of dark, dragon-like characters:
*The Dao that can be told is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name.*
Naturally, Ye Long didn't understand the deeper connotations of these words. But with his simple mind, he couldn't help but strive for perfection afterward.
The Dao that can be told?
The name that can be named?
Question marks the size of soybeans followed one after another. Unable to puzzle it out despite much thought, Ye Long muttered to himself:
"With a name, one walks the Dao; without a name, one walks the Dao with a name. Desire and non-desire are different names. Mysterious and even more mysterious, the Daoist master is truly of Xuanmen."
Boom!
Little did he know, in the blink of an eye, the color of heaven and earth changed and fierce winds raged.
This successive roaring arrival transformed the previously clear skies outside into a dense gathering of dark clouds. Bolts of lightning slithered wildly across the pitch-black cloud layer, giving off an overwhelming sense of a mountain rain about to sweep through the tower.
Against the backdrop of this violent weather, the oppressive atmosphere was like the wrath of the heavens, peerless and absolute.
By the wheat fields, flowers, plants, and trees gradually withered. Even a few stray dogs let out whimpering cries, scurrying in a panic to find earth burrows. This bizarre scene was truly hair-raising.
As for the blazing purple light before him, turning even the earth and walls a terrifying shade of purple, it inevitably frightened a certain dragon out of his wits.
Where there is thunder ahead, the thunder's roar must follow.
At this thought, Ye Long instinctively covered his ears. But to his surprise, after a long while, neither the God of Thunder nor the Goddess of Lightning appeared. Ye Long raised his head to look at the sky—only for his expression to change on the spot!
Crack!
"What the hell, you old bastard... I'm getting struck by lightning..."
...
Who knows how much time had passed.
"Wuu..."
When Ye Long blinked his heavy eyes open once more, he could not hide the trembling that wracked his entire body, as if he had been subjected to ten thousand volts of electricity.
"Brat, how long do you plan to sleep?"
A stern bark suddenly struck Ye Long's ears, clearly brimming with boundless hatred and killing intent. Following closely was the sound of exceptionally heavy footsteps.
"If you don't hand over the silver today, watch out for your head!"
Hearing this, Ye Long instinctively looked in the direction of the voice, then his narrow eyes bulged wide. Who the hell was this?
He saw...
Dressed in beggar attire, looking old and decrepit, with messy sideburns hanging loosely over his shoulders. Hunched over with a curved back, he currently wore a thoroughly fierce and malevolent expression.
"Hisss..."
At that moment, Ye Long's head throbbed with a splitting pain, and then a series of disjointed, unfamiliar memories inexplicably flooded in.
The moment this tearing sensation struck, it felt as though his entire soul was being ripped apart, causing him to let out a series of weird shrieks from the sheer agony.
*Cultivation World, Cultivation Mainland... A city within the Qintian Empire, Qingyang City... Surrounded by the Monster Forest. The old man before him is a member of the Beggar Gang. Di... Hu!*
*Recently, he knocked over Di Hu's medicinal liquor. Today, he has come specifically to collect the money!*
*And his own name is the same: Ye Long!*
"Stop playing dead for me, you little bastard! Where is the silver? Hand it over!"
At this moment, Di Hu was like a brutal creditor; if he didn't see silver, he would see blood—making it blatantly clear that he intended to kill if he didn't get his money.
As he spoke, Di Hu strode forward and grabbed one of Ye Long's thin arms.
Seeing the unwashed old man instantly upon him, Ye Long was so frightened that a cry of pain got stuck in his throat. The man had a mouth full of yellow teeth, a vicious and cruel gaze, and the fierce appearance of a jackal, tiger, or leopard.
Every other word was about silver, and his entire body reeked of a foul stench.
Ye Long's face turned as pale as paper, whether from the pain or the stench, he could not tell.
"The silver is right on me! I'll get it for you right now!" Ye Long cried out.
For it felt as though the joints in his wrist would snap the very next second, and Ye Long was terrified that Di Hu would actually commit such an inhuman act.
Hearing this, Di Hu let out a cold snort and loosened his grip with his right hand. He took the crushed silver, not forgetting to sneer:
"Starting today, tack on an extra tael of crushed silver every day! If you don't, you know the consequences!"
With that, Di Hu strode away, coming and going in a rush.
Yet Ye Long stared at that receding back, unable to hide a lingering sense of terror. But then, he suddenly bounced up with wild joy.
"Oh god, I've actually soul-traveled across realms! And I transmigrated into the Cultivation World?"
As he spoke, he became a bit carried away. Didn't novels from his past life always say that those who cheat death are bound to have future fortunes?
Turning his hands to make clouds?
Covering his hands to make rain?
How could any of that compare to the bliss of becoming a god and ascending to an ancestral deity?
Yet as Ye Long gradually calmed down, the sense of poignant loss in his heart was difficult to suppress.
Just thinking of his father—whose face was weathered like chiseled stone, running about in crowds for his sake and toiling day and night—made a pair of tears well up in Ye Long's eyes.
Then he recalled his mother's loving face. Although she nagged endlessly about nothing all day long and was inevitably annoying, he would clearly never hear her voice again.
"Ah... wuu..." Ye Long's shattered emotions burst forth in sorrowful wails and roars within this unfamiliar world, sounding just like an injured wild beast howling hoarsely.
And this seemingly incredible experience of a mere mortal was, in truth, the very beginning of Ye Long's path of cultivating immortality after crossing into a foreign world!