Daojin Tianxian

A thunderstorm in the border area turned a village into ashes. The young man Chen Jin knelt in the bloody mud and could only touch a streak of ashes left behind after the Heavenly Dao wiped out the vitality - an image seal, and also like a debt that could not be repaid. He started with the most inconspicuous "knocking on the dust", but what he entered was the most irritating outer door: salt price, files, wallets and pot ashes, everything was like a needle poking at the door of life. Only when the black plaque from the Capital Supervision Department came before his eyes did he understand what human fangs are: the rules are like a net, the paper is as gray as snow, and every step of his life must be written in "compliance" first. Yu Zhaoye in white could cut through the crowd, but he couldn't figure out the answer; Jin Mancang laughed so hard that he knocked on the pot, but he couldn't figure out the name sealed in an old book. Until the cracks in the stone spread overnight, and eight words stuck in the throat - "Don't trust Qing". Qing is the sect, the sky, or the deeper eyes? Calamity is meant to be cleansed, but some people whisper that calamity can be "borrowed". Who is borrowing? To whom? What do you get in the end? If the ancient "Burning Dao" had already broken the way of heaven into various "constitutions", on the eve of this burning Dao, who would light the lamp, feed the paper, and who would be waiting for the thunder? Shen Jin grasped the thread as thin as a gossamer and realized that cultivation is not about reaching the sky, but about digging out the truth buried in the ashes inch by inch - if the digging is too slow, not even the ashes will be left.