One Daoist furnace, three sticks of incense.
I receive the offerings of all living beings and endure the tribulations of the mortal world, from hell to the immortal realm, undergoing tribulation among humankind.
Could it be that we're poor because no one up above is burning paper offerings for us?
They say hell is empty, and the devils are among us.
Could it be that this place of ours is... the underworld, an endless netherworld?
That day, I heard the murmuring of someone offering incense and burning paper, and at last saw the world for what it truly was.
(Dual transmigration, primarily focused on cultivation in another world)
