Staying at the Immortal Gate Slowly Cultivating Immortality

Lin Fan traveled through time, with no system, no golden fingers, and only a broken body that had been shot open. In this world of cultivating immortals, he is the lowest-level handyman, doing the heaviest work, eating the least, and living like a shadow. No one paid attention to him, no one cared about him, no one even remembered his name. This is best. He picked up half a worn copy of "Changchun Gong" in the corner of the woodshed. He dug out a few wild herbs that no one wanted in the haystacks in the back hill. He practiced quietly for a hundred years in a place where no one could see him. When those once arrogant "geniuses" turned into loess, Lin Fan walked out of the courtyard. He held the hoe and looked up at the sky. "It's time to farm farther afield."