Autumn, the twelfth year of Jingyuan of the Great Zhou Dynasty.
The morning fog in Qinghe County has not yet cleared, and Li Qing has already picked up the bamboo basket and walked towards the forest along the trail in the back mountain.
The twelve-year-old boy was thin and wore a pair of short brown clothes that had been washed white and had a few finely stitched patches on the cuffs. The early morning mountain breeze was cool, causing a few strands of hair on his forehead to sway slightly, but he walked steadily, making almost no sound as he stepped on the mud path covered with fallen leaves.
He has been walking this road for three years.
From the autumn when his father was buried, he followed Uncle Wang from his neighbor's family into the mountains to collect herbs. Uncle Wang said that this child has sharp eyes and steady hands and feet, making him a good material for collecting medicine. It's a pity that Uncle Wang caught the wind and cold last winter and did not survive the new year. Now he is the only one left walking alone in the mountains.
The forest is dappled with light and shadow, and mist lingers among the branches and leaves. Occasionally, a tit fluttered its wings and flew over, dropping a few drops of dew. Li Qing seemed to be completely unaware of this, he just lowered his head and searched carefully among the grass and trees.
Suddenly, he stopped beside a bluestone beside the stream...
Purpose: Cultivation of immortality has never been simply about cultivating immortality, and the darkness of human nature has always been filled with it.