The Age of Cultivation: My Neighbor Is the Demon Venerable

The sky was just beginning to brighten. A cool, damp breeze slipped through the window lattice and brushed Lin Fan's cheek.

He opened his eyes. The fresh scent of earth mingled with plants filled his nostrils, the most familiar and reassuring smell he had known in the three years since he transmigrated to this world of immortal cultivation.

There had been no spiritual qi revival, no overwhelming aura of a king.

For three years, he had been nothing more than the son of an ordinary family in Qingshi Town.

His parents were kind, simple folk who made a living from a small plot of land and a few medicinal herbs.

He was content with this life.

He sincerely wanted nothing to do with cultivators who flew through the skies and crossed the earth, casually laying waste to the world. He only wanted to hold on to this hard-won peace until old age.

Lin Fan got up, deftly put on his coarse clothes, and picked up the bamboo broom in the corner of the courtyard.

He walked into the yard, took a deep breath of the morning air, and began sweeping up the fallen leaves.

He did not move quickly, but every sweep was just right, gathering the scattered dead leaves and dust into one place without stirring up a single wisp more than necessary.

It was a habit formed over many years, a way of focusing on the life he had now.

Just as he swept the last bit of dust into the dustpan.