Ancestor, Ancestor, It Took Me a Hundred Thousand Years to Wake Up.

One hundred thousand years. A hundred thousand springs and autumns have changed, and the stars have changed. I am like a speck of dust forgotten at the end of the long river of time, buried deep in the deepest part of the rock formations of this unknown mountain range, breathing in the smell of earth that has been compressed and precipitated for hundreds of millions of years and the faint, almost exhausted thin spiritual energy deep in the earth's veins. Sleep. No, more accurately, it's "gou". To survive the aftermath of the ancient war, to survive the crazy rise and fall of spiritual energy tides, to survive the rise and fall of giant sects, to survive the brilliance and fall of countless rising stars in the world... Is it a bloody storm outside or is it full of flowers? Don't care, don't matter, have no interest. The essence of the "Gou" Tao that I believe in is only eight words: It is as deep as it is imaginary, and it will last forever. Lying flat is the greatest invincibility, and you can survive to the end only if you don't show off. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.