A strange thing is recorded in the fragments of ancient books in Kunlun Ruins: when the aura of heaven and earth was at its peak, a monk used his own essence and blood to raise a "weapon spirit". He wanted to use it to spy on the way of heaven, but he didn't know that after the weapon spirit became spiritually intelligent, his favorite thing to do was to expose the monk's lies.
A hundred years later, the spiritual energy is gradually drying up. The last little Taoist priest in Qingya Temple is squatting in front of the stove to cook a pot of dark "spiritual porridge". There is a golden red snake hanging on the edge of the pot, with a dusty bead wrapped around the snake's tail. He spits out a letter and comments: "The Kitchen Lord has to flip the table just to see it. Are you sure this thing can replenish spiritual energy?"
The little Taoist priest ignored it and sprinkled a handful of dried dandelions into the porridge. The old bronze mirror on the stove suddenly shook, and a blurry figure was reflected in the mirror. His voice was as muffled as a jar: "Don't listen to stupid snakes. Dandelion roots can gather Qi, but if you put too much... It will disperse."
The little Taoist took a spoonful of the porridge and tasted it. He grimaced in pain, but he still poured the porridge into a coarse porcelain bowl. The moonlight outside the window falls on the edge of the bowl, and half a jade pendant is sunk at the bottom of the bowl, which is the "home" of the figure in the bronze mirror.
The last page of the fragment was blown up by the wind, and there were small words written in cinnabar on it: "Practitioners, their cultivation is never to fly to the sky and escape to the earth, but to live in chicken feathers all over the ground, and they can still live their lives like porridge - even if it is a bowl of bitter porridge."
