Heaven and earth are the furnace, the four seas its kindling. If you want to survive, it all comes down to one breath.
People fear fame just as pigs fear getting fat. When a person becomes famous, there are more trifles, more trouble, and more misfortune.
Then there are those who aren't famous, yet one unlucky thing after another befalls them, each worse than the last.
Fate!
I decide my own fate!
The immortal path stretches into the distance, the demonic path looms vast. The immortal path falls, the demonic path slaughters. Only humanity can triumph over heaven!
How many white bones pave the path to immortality? How many cultivators are buried along the immortal road?
The immortal path is not a road of no return. How many white bones lie beneath the green mountains?
The prosperity gradually fades away, leaving the lingering fragrance to pity people