Cultivation: Chasing Immortals Through Dreams

One rider treads through snow, the cold biting deep as the wine grows stronger.

This troubled world has no place for the pure-hearted, whose proud spirit presses on through wind and snow.

Let me borrow a little ink from the world, to stain the mountains, the waters, and every hue,

Then repay the mortal world with three cups of wine, dreaming of life, dreaming of death, dreaming of splendor.

It was only a mirage, empty in the end, like the sky, the earth, and a gentle breeze.

Life is, after all, unpredictable. Listen to the wind, listen to the snow, listen to the falling flowers...

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.