He has always believed that keeping a low profile is the way to go. He does not covet wealth or power, asking only for a peaceful, uneventful life. But the sudden arrival of a “lifespan-for-immortality System” completely shattered his peace and made staying alive quietly harder than ever.
Without the System, he could lie flat and live out his days in peace of mind. With it, he had to stay on constant alert just to keep a low profile. The System offered him the possibility of immortality, but bound him to deadly rules: every extension of his life and every improvement came at the cost of his lifespan. One careless mistake, and he could die, body and soul destroyed. His goal had never changed: keep his head down and survive. But that quiet survival had gone from “living peacefully” to “walking on thin ice,” a contradiction that was all too real.
The System warned him that the road to immortality should have no weaknesses or attachments. Only by severing all emotions and desires could he go far. But he failed to do so. In the narrow cracks of his struggle to survive, he unexpectedly fell in love and became a prisoner of his own feelings.
On one side was the System’s deadly boundary on the road to immortality: he had to survive with the utmost caution, trading his life for more time. On the other was the attachment he could not let go of. He knew falling in love would bring calamity, yet he embraced it willingly.
He asked neither the Heavenly Dao for protection nor the immortals and Buddhas for mercy. He only wanted to live one more day and catch one more glimpse of the person he held dear. He worshipped neither Heaven nor Earth, neither immortals nor Buddhas. He worshipped only the lifespan-for-immortality System, which could help him survive or bring about his ruin.
Immortality is hard, surviving quietly is harder, and surviving for love is harder still. This is Lin Yan’s path to immortality, paid for with his lifespan.
