Ye Bufan is thirty-eight years old and has spent fifteen years in telecommunications. The day he was dumped, he finally understood: he had built more than six hundred cell towers, but never managed to build a single lasting relationship.
When his blood fell on his family’s ancestral jade pendant, he transmigrated into the body of someone with a “waste spirit root” whose five spiritual elements had all been extinguished in the aptitude test. The people here fight to become prodigies and scramble for cultivation arts. With his useless spirit root, he does one thing nobody understands: he builds signal towers, one after another, allowing two worlds that could never communicate to hear each other for the first time.
Over six years, he guarded a snowy valley, endured network outages, changed out SIM cards, and saw off an old general who chose to die. He says the network wasn’t woven by him alone. It was woven together by thirty thousand people.
