Fellow Taoist, Wait a Minute, Are You Cultivating Immortality?

The first year of cultivating immortality. I swing my hatchet three thousand times every day to clean up the fallen leaves and bloodstains in the monastery. The teacher said that this is called beating to strengthen the muscles and bones. The second year of cultivating immortality. I was thrown into the Blood Rust Secret Realm as a "consumable". What the hatchet cut into for the first time was not wood, but a "thing" that screamed and begged for mercy. There was a cold touch from the blade, and an inexplicable and malicious chewing sound echoed in my head. The deacon of the secret realm said that this is called "experience". The third year of cultivating immortality. I became a strange legend in the sect. They no longer ask me to go to the martial arts arena, but instead ask me to go to the mass graves in the back mountains, to the mines where the spiritual energy is exhausted, and to all the places where people died but the cause cannot be found. When they called me, their eyes were evasive and their tone was complicated. "Speechless, go and clean that place..." I walked over carrying the hatchet. The hatchet was very quiet, but I "heard" it - the "sounds" of those sticky, squirming things that shouldn't exist. Later, I visited all the dark corners of the sect. My hatchet is getting brighter and brighter, and lines like bone and blood are exposed under the rust. The "voices" I "hear" are becoming more and more clear, and they are intertwined into a grand, crazy whisper, telling the truth about the decay of this fairy world. Until that day, the elder who sent me to the secret realm let out a miserable howl that did not sound like a human voice in the retreat. [No CP + Cultivation of Immortality + Physical Exorcism]