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The world is like a tree, mortals are the roots buried in the mud, and the flowers are the immortal way. Demons with overwhelming evil spirits, ghosts and fairies that turn clouds and rain, ghosts that can't be traced, Buddhas that fill the sky with golden light, Mortals cannot see its form, but their eyes are filled with prayers. The vast ancient continent, the dislocated and collapsed interface, and the different tribes. Mystery, beauty, charm. I was originally a small boat in the big world, but I have embarked on the path of immortality. It's like walking on thin ice, making it difficult to move forward. Fight monsters and slay demons. The dilemma between becoming an immortal and becoming a demon is that one only seeks the path to immortality without any desire for incense or smoke. A ring with a reversal effect. A stumbling mortal who just wants to live. Mortal youths will eventually become powerful, and powerful immortals will eventually become Zhetu. This is the way of heaven.