Appraising Immortality

Sui Jing was a stone that had cultivated for thousands of years, yet still hadn't managed to take human form.

He couldn't comprehend the Heavenly Way or understand the vast sea of mortal life.

Just as he'd given up trying to figure things out and prepared to die in his final tribulation of transformation, his tribulation spoke.

The talking tribulation gave him less than thirty years to enter the mortal world and save it. Succeed, and he would ascend to immortality. Fail, and he would perish, taking the mortal world down with him.

Sui Jing agreed, but he had never cared much about life and death. Whether he succeeded or not, he thought, things would simply take their natural course.

For a stone, a few decades pass in the blink of an eye. New to being human, he was naive and found everything in the world fascinating.

The world held more than one pine tree and a thousand storms.

There were also boundless skies and seas, bustling crowds, wise teachers and true friends, and those who would stand by you in life and death.

And so this stone became reluctant to let go.

##

One day, the heavens sprang a leak, spiritual qi scattered, cultivators went into hiding, and dynasties rose.

Five hundred years passed. The world had become a degenerate age where martial strength reigned supreme, yet rumors suddenly spread among the people that a divine artifact had appeared.

The artifact was said to be capable of mending the heavens and bringing about a spiritual qi revival. Cultivators and the imperial court each had their own designs, and they emerged one after another, determined to seize this opportunity or use it for their own ends.

But as the struggle intensified, everyone's attention was drawn to a little-known secret from the past:

"But why did spiritual qi vanish all at once five hundred years ago?"

[An emotionally growing male lead whose values differ from those of ordinary people. He goes from emotionally detached to gradually becoming more compassionate, cherishing all living things. A touch of saintliness, but he only holds himself to account and never imposes his morality on others.]

[The male lead is weak in combat and frail as a wicker basket, his life hanging by a thread.]

[A touch of mystery.]

[Every word is written with care. The prose is immature, so please read with reasonable expectations.]

Theme: To walk among the living is like sailing a boat at midnight: crowds of travelers, lights along a long road, solemn journeys through the night, and shivering behind a boat's windows, their toil worthy of pity. Yet among them are also gallant souls who jest and laugh with abandon, singing wordless songs and calling out until their voices carry to the distant shore. These scenes, too, are worth remembering.