Taoism in the World of Mortals

At the beginning of chaos, the Taoist Master transformed into Taoism and scattered hundreds of millions of Taoist imprints across the heavens and the world. Among countless human beings struggling to survive, a young man in tattered clothes, covered in dust, and scarred, stood alone at the highest point of the dilapidated valley. His clothes were torn by thorns and soaked with blood, and his body was covered with old and new scars. Each one told of the suffering of displacement, but his back was still straight, like a lonely pine that refused to bend in the wind and rain. He has no name. As long as he could remember, his parents had died at the mouths of ferocious beasts, and not even a blur of their appearance had remained in his mind. The tribe migrated several times and was destroyed by wars several times. The relatives, friends, and companions around him fell one by one. Some were buried in the belly of ferocious beasts, and some were corroded by the underworld and turned into nothingness. In the end, not even a single person who could call him or say a word to him was left. He has no teacher, no skills, no spiritual roots, has never even heard of the word "cultivation", and does not know what the great road is. He does not know how to attract the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, and does not know how to temper himself. He just relies on instinct to survive in this catastrophic world.