Interstellar Cultivation Era

Riding whales, picking jade buds, and mining the stars to create years. Cut the cloud strands, refine the frost and sand, and the fireflies on your fingertips illuminate the haze. I don't need to walk on the back of a crane to find the path to immortality, I will walk to the end of the world on a white horse. The starlight in the sleeves tempers the poetry sword, and the wind and rain in the world brew spring tea.