I Have a Cauldron, Which Will Save Me from the Detour of Cultivating Immortality for Ten Thousand Years.

Deep in the Kunlun Ruins, under the cliff of a broken monument, young Shen Yan has been guarding a small bronze tripod for ten years. The cauldron was cold to the touch and could not be used to refine elixirs or weapons. Its only use was that it made bursts of noise when he meditated. Until the day he introduced the air into his body, the noise suddenly became clear: "In the seventh week of fire spiritual power, you need to avoid the third spiritual orifice on the right side. This is the disaster of fire..." "The third level of Xuan Bing Jue is defective and must be neutralized with warm chalcedony, otherwise crystals will form in the meridians that last for centuries..." "At the entrance of the ancient cave, there is a loose pebble three feet at the bottom of the pool..." The residual thoughts are messy, but every step of the way has trampled on the deep pits on the road to immortality. Shen Yan has no heaven-defying spiritual roots and no prominent background, so he can only rely on transcribing even basic skills. The only thing to rely on is what this small tripod hides - lessons learned from past mistakes. Camp every step of the way, listening to the blood and tears of those who came before us. In the midst of this mortal calamity, I walk alone on the road to eternal life.