My name is Chen Changsheng.
When others cultivate: lifespan + 1, magic power + 100.
When I cultivate: lifespan +∞, magic power + 0.01.
A path others can finish in a few years takes me decades.
Why even bother cultivating?
After thinking it over, I decided I still had to cultivate.
After all, it would be a huge waste to have such an incredibly long life cut short by someone else's hand.
At worst, you cultivate for ten years, and I cultivate for three thousand. You cultivate for a hundred years, and I cultivate for thirty thousand.
So I kept grinding away at my torturously slow cultivation, watching the prodigies who once mocked me as useless turn to bones beneath the yellow earth, and the mighty figures who saw me as an insect reach the end of their lives and die in meditation.
At the end, I brushed the dust off my Daoist robe.
The writing is very good, but the writing about interacting with people is a little too sculptural. The writing is very detailed but not too boring, but it will lead to too slow progress and may be difficult for most people to calm down and read.
It's so miserable that I might as well be a mortal. Apart from lifespan, I can't show any abilities. I don't feel any pleasure at all. I have no desire to continue reading. There are no advantages for time travellers. The layout of the book is not long.