Stepping on the Immortal World: the System Gives More Than Just Cultivation

"Grandpa, do you think there are immortals in this world?" When my consciousness sank, I was still changing the third version of the plan in front of the computer screen. The time in the lower right corner of the screen is clearly marked Sunday evening at 10:30. The tea room has long been locked, the takeout box under the work station has gone rancid, and the light above the head hurts the eyes. I remember I just finished replying to the leader on WeChat, "Okay, Mr. Zhang, I'll send it to you as soon as I make the changes." As soon as I put my hand on the mouse, my heart suddenly clenched into a ball, and then the sky turned black, and I couldn't even make a cry for help. When I woke up again, I was lying on this bed of hay. There was a hard earthen kang beneath him, and the smell of burning pine branches and the faint smell of herbs floated on the tip of his nose. Outside the window is a mountain, full of trees. I can't hear the ding of the elevator in the office building, nor can I hear the leader's voice calling my name from three work stations away. There is only the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves, and the sound of the mountain stream in the distance.