With 'even immortal registers are subject to human ties' as its backbone, and 'visions are no different from the mortal world' as its flesh, this story follows a group of immortals mistakenly recorded on the Heavenly Rankings and misidentified by mortals. They travel between the 'fields of fame and fortune' and the 'grottoes of mist and rosy clouds,' finally realizing that 'cultivation is the cultivation of one's humanity.' Rather than dwell on lofty talk of ascending to immortality, it focuses on the bitter hardships hidden in immortal bones and the frictions within divine offices. With a cool, incisive style, it blends solemnity with humor, so that readers may laugh aloud, then suddenly realize that 'Heaven is just like the bustling streets' and 'even the bustling streets can be home to immortals.'
