Really, My Paradise Will Never Fall into Decline

The medicinal garden at Qinghe Temple was about to fall into ruin, and Shen Zhao had already tied up his bedding to leave.

Then he discovered that, thanks to "Restoration to True Form," he could restore damaged things to their original state, while preserving the years and spiritual essence they had already accumulated.

A withered blade of grass, once revived, was still a three-year-old medicinal herb; a battered furnace, once repaired, could continue nurturing itself into a treasure.

It was not until he retrieved a fragment of space from an abandoned mine that he cultivated his first plot of pocket dimension.

This little world would never decline. Time ripened medicinal herbs and nurtured treasures, while the fortune he had earned with his own hands kept growing, harvest after harvest.

But rare spiritual roots and innate origins still remained in other people's hands.

Shen Zhao tended his own medicinal fields, took the treasures he had cultivated, and set out for the myriad realms.

What could be bought, he bought; what had to be fought for, he fought for.

Starting with a single plot of medicinal garden, what he wanted was a world of his own.