A Mortal's Immortal Cultivation Begins as a Servant

The immortal path stretches vast, deep as an abyss; A demonic calamity lurks beneath a treacherous sky. Bones pave the road to eternal life; A sea of blood bears the boat that seeks the peak of the Dao. Fellow cultivators scheme with cunning plots; Even those dearest to you may hide a dagger, cold and sharp. Soul-drawing and spirit-refining are everyday affairs; The law of the jungle is ruthless. Ten thousand ages of cultivation, all desolate; A thousand years of arduous practice turn to ash. The quest for the Dao and eternal life is ultimately an illusion; Only the setting sun remains, reflected in a sea of blood and madness.