In the Peach Blossom Valley at the foot of Qingyun Mountain, there are several huts with white clothes and black hair. I clock in and sign in every day and save a house full of innate spiritual treasures. But I just can't practice the martial arts - I can't sense the spiritual energy, even a loose immortal can crush me to death. The yellow dogs and reed chickens in the yard are hopeless, but the house full of treasures is like a reminder of life. A few days ago, my niece wrote a letter saying that both her parents were dead and she was coming to seek refuge. I clutched the wine gourd and looked at the mouth of the valley, waiting for her. The turbid air of the Great Tribulation of Gods is pouring in, and I am afraid this valley will not be here for long.
