
Twelve Years of Burial
About This Novel
I am the last undertaker in the world, sorting out the remains of immortal cultivators who have died, and closing their unwilling eyes. In this world where everyone pursues immortality, my career is regarded as the most unlucky existence - no one wants to take another look at me on the way to ascension, for fear of being contaminated with the energy of death. But I can see something they can't see: every monk who is about to die is wrapped with countless black threads as thin as hair. Those threads submerge into the void, and I don't know where they lead. Until that day, I reached out and touched a black thread. In an instant, the truth from three hundred years ago flooded into his mind - it turns out that all monks in the world are just "fruits" fed by certain beings. The so-called ascension is a lie; the so-called immortality is a scam. And those with higher cultivation level are closer to being "picked". I am a mortal who buries the dead, but unexpectedly I become the only breaker in this chess game. Since you want to eat my people, then I will let this sky change its owner. Twelve years is the time limit I set for myself.
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