I Transmigrated, and Somehow I’m Cultivating the Heartless Path

Shen Qingci, the most talented disciple of the Lingxu Sect, has seen enough of the world's fickleness. To pursue the Great Dao, he cuts off his seven emotions and resolutely takes up the Heartless Dao.

From then on, flowers are just flowers and mountains are just mountains. When his junior sister, who once secretly held a place for him in her heart, brings him osmanthus cakes, he merely says, “Such worldly trifles hinder the Dao.”

He thought the rest of his life would hold nothing but his sword and his solitary shadow. Who could have guessed that:

The proud Immortal Venerable he once talked back to now sends thousand-year snow lotuses to his mountain every day, calling them “essential for comprehending the Dao”;

The Demon Sect Saintess who once told him, “The heartless and unprincipled will surely be punished by Heaven,” shoves the key to her family’s treasure vault into his hand: “There’s enough inside to cultivate all the way to ascension”;

Even the little fox from the neighboring mountain, whom he used to freeze into an ice sculpture, chases after him with red-rimmed eyes after taking human form. “Daoist, I won’t cause trouble anymore. Could you please look at me?”

Clutching his three-foot azure sword, Shen Qingci looks at the crowd fighting over him and silently wonders:

Weren’t people supposed to avoid practitioners of the Heartless Dao at all costs?

How did his life turn into one where people crowd his doorstep every day, all eager to shower him with warmth?