The Realm of Mist

One day, a poisonous fog suddenly descended from the sky over the Jiuzhou Continent.

Like the shroud of death, it left devastation in its wake wherever it went.

Anyone engulfed by the poisonous fog became a mindless beast, driven mad and filled with despair.

Flowers, grass, and trees across the land withered and died at an alarming rate.

Countless humans and animals were killed or injured as the poisonous fog ravaged the world.

There was a young man who had never seen his parents, not even once.

Astonishingly, he could walk freely through the thick poisonous fog, as if it had no effect on him at all.

His figure appeared and disappeared in the fog, like a strange glimmer of dawn, mysterious against the apocalyptic scene.

He said, “Recite my name, and I shall protect you.”

He said, “My heart is Heaven’s heart, and my heart is the heart of the Dao.”

He said, “Cultivators cultivate the body; when the heart prevails, strength follows.”

He said, “An artifact’s essence lies not in its shape, but in its use.

Its shape, what the eye can see, is merely an appearance.

Its use, what the heart can feel, is the true foundation.”

[Not mindless power fantasy, fairly humorous, no holier-than-thou protagonist, no harem, no System...]