Cultivating Immortality in Two Realms: Sunflower Lord

The sky was bright.

The sunlight—that long-awaited, truly warm sunlight—pierced through the sky, which had become exceptionally clear after being repeatedly cleansed by thunder and sword light the previous night, and shone down on the ravaged Qinglan County.

This should have been a heartening sight.

However, no one paid attention to the sunlight.

In the center of the county town, at the edge of the giant pit left by the three giant pythons after their tribulation, Ji Ruchang stood alone.

The pit was bottomless, with jagged edges like the wounds left by a giant beast. Below, one could vaguely see the cross-section of the soil layer, which had been scorched into a glassy texture by demonic power.

Last night's earth-shattering lightning tribulation, that stunning sword light, that composed dismemberment and harvest... all traces have been erased.

No, it wasn't erased.

They were simply disposed of as part of the "trophy disposal process" by those high and mighty beings.

Just like a butcher washes the cutting board after slaughtering a pig.

Ji lowered her eyelids as usual.

On the street not far behind him, someone was crying.

The cries were initially suppressed and sporadic, as if people couldn't believe that disaster had truly befallen them. Then, they grew more numerous and louder, eventually coalescing into a wave of mourning.

"Father...Father, wake up..."

"Sanwazi! Sanwazi, where are you—!"

"My legs... my legs are gone..."

The charred beams were still emitting wisps of smoke, and the collapsed walls held the remains of those who had failed to escape in time.

Those who survived by sheer luck were frantically searching through the ruins, some sitting blankly holding the bodies of their loved ones, and others limping around aimlessly, like lost souls unable to find their way home.

Ji Ruchang did not turn around.

He just stood there quietly, like a stone statue forgotten on the edge of ruins.

The Night Patrol's casualty count was finally completed after an hour of hard work.

Of the original dozen or so members of the Qinglan County Night Patrol Division, only ten remain alive, including Ji Ruchang.

The garrison commander, deputy garrison commander, and three night patrolmen perished in the giant serpent's mouth, being completely digested during its tribulation!

Even the body couldn't be found!

Of the ten survivors, the one with the highest cultivation level was none other than Ji Ruchang—the fourth level of Qi Refining.

The other nine people were all at the third level of Qi Refining.

Three of them were seriously injured, and one or two of them, even if they survived, would probably be left with disabilities.

At this moment, the nine people, some sitting and some lying down, were gathered in the only remaining side room of the Night Patrol Division that had not completely collapsed, receiving emergency treatment from the few doctors assigned by the county government.

They were mostly silent. When they did talk, it was usually in a low voice asking about the whereabouts of a familiar colleague, which would then be followed by an even longer silence.

No one mentioned the figures that stood suspended in mid-air last night.

No one mentioned that incredibly precise sword strike, which landed precisely after the giant python had successfully completed its tribulation.

But Ji Ruchang knew that they all understood.

Those high-ranking "colleagues"—if they can even be called colleagues—didn't just happen to be passing by at that moment.

They were already there.

Perhaps when the giant python had just emerged from the earth, perhaps before the heavenly tribulation descended, perhaps even earlier, when the water ghosts of the Yin River had just begun setting up sacrificial sites throughout the county town...

They've been watching.

Watching the garrison commander Shen Lian fight desperately, watching the deputy garrison commander Han Ling break his sword and exhaust himself, watching one night patrolman after another be ambushed by ghosts and devoured by giant pythons, watching the people of the city flee in terror, scream, and die...

They just watched.

wait.

Waiting for the giant python to successfully overcome the heavenly tribulation.

Its scales, snake tendons, demon core, and soul await transformation into even more precious materials through tempering in thunder and fire.

Then, at the most opportune moment, he strikes down with a single sword stroke, calmly reaping the rewards.

Like waiting for fruit to ripen before picking it.

So precise, so calm, so... taken for granted.

Ji Ruchang clenched her fist gently.

Beside him lay a young night watchman lying on a door panel—he remembered the man's name was Zhou Hu, a third-level Qi cultivator, whose left arm had been bitten off by a Yin River water ghost the previous night, the bloody wound just bandaged by the doctor—who suddenly spoke in a hoarse voice:

"Ji Tou'er...you mean, those adults..."

He didn't finish speaking.

It seems that I also feel that this question should not be asked, or that I dare not ask it.

Ji Ruchang remained silent for a moment, then turned around and looked at his pale face, which was filled with confusion and resentment due to excessive blood loss.

"No." Ji Ruchang heard her own voice, so calm it didn't sound like her own. "Those adults arrived in time and saved our lives. Without them, we would all be dead."

Zhou Hu stared at him blankly, his lips moved, but in the end he said nothing and closed his eyes.

The people who had been listening intently also turned their attention away.

No one called that out.

No one dared to.

Do you hate it?

Perhaps for a moment.

But that hatred was quickly crushed by a deeper fear and helplessness.

Like an ant that witnesses a giant elephant trampling and killing countless of its companions as it passes by its anthill, only to be rescued by a god descending from the sky.

Can an ant hate a giant elephant? Can an ant hate a god?

It can only be thankful.

I'm glad I'm still alive.

Ji Ruchang left the side room that was crowded with wounded soldiers.

He made up an excuse—"to check the remaining scents in the giant pit, just in case there are still lingering problems"—and walked out of the dilapidated gates of the Night Patrol Office alone.

The streets were still chaotic, but his steps were steady.

He certainly understood their silence.

They even understand the choices made by those "gods".

The moment between a high-level demon's tribulation and its transformation is the window when its materials are most valuable and it is easiest to hunt.

Obtaining the greatest benefit at the lowest cost is the ironclad rule of the cultivation world.

As for how many ants have been crushed under the ironclad rule, that has never been included in the calculations.

In his past life, he had seen far too much.

The programmer who died from overwork during the 996 work schedule will not receive justice; there will only be a perfunctory obituary and a notice from HR urging his family to complete the resignation procedures as soon as possible.

The amount of compensation for workers buried in mining accidents depends on how much their families protest, not on how much those lives were worth.

The civilians who died in the war were just a fraction of the cold numbers on the war reports, and no one knew their names.

This world is simply reinterpreting that set of rules in a more naked and undisguised way.

They just replaced "capitalist" with "high-level cultivator".

The title "mine owner" was changed to "sect elder".

The title "General" was changed to "Governor".

That's it.

Therefore, he can understand.

Understanding does not equate to acceptance.

He lowered his eyes, carefully suppressing the cold, sticky hatred surging in his heart, hiding it deep within.

He is still too weak right now.

So weak that they don't even have the right to express hatred.

So weak that they must be eternally grateful to their "benefactors".

So weak that I can only be thankful that I'm still alive.

but--

He will survive.

It will become stronger.

They will no longer be the only ones who are "fortunate".

Ji Ruchang looked up at the bottomless pit and stepped closer.

An extremely strong aura of thunder lingered at the edge of the giant crater.

That was the lingering aura of the laws solidified after the heavenly tribulation struck. If an ordinary Qi Refining cultivator got close, at best their hair would stand on end and their skin would go numb, and at worst their soul would be injured by the residual lightning power.

But when Ji Ruchang approached, those tiny golden arcs of electricity not only did not harm him, but instead seemed to be drawn by an invisible hand, quietly seeping into his body.

It doesn't enter the meridians.

It was directly inserted into his personal storage bag, and even deeper into the misty courtyard within his sea of ​​consciousness.

At the bottom of a dry well.

The bronze mirror gleamed faintly, greedily absorbing the lingering echoes of thunder that surged in.

The golden veins inside the short copper lamp pillar were illuminated by an even more minute trace.

The three sunflowers, arranged in a neat row, swayed slightly at the same time.

The flower disc of the second-tier Golden Sunflower rose, as if drinking sweet rain; its growth rate, which had been reset after the upgrade, began to jump at a visible speed.

67, 68, 69.

It finally stopped at [69/1000].

The "Daily Essence Reserve" column shows the number "4.9 units".

The first-tier Golden Sunflower next to her turned its flower head toward the direction of Ji Ruchang's consciousness, as if silently seeking credit.

Its information panel has undergone even more changes:

[Tier 1 Sunflower: Golden Sunflower (Growth: 137/100)]

[Status: Recognized as Lord (Extremely Satisfied)]

[Upgradeable] [Split]

That first-tier Golden Sunflower was not only perfect, but also far exceeded the threshold of 100 points.

Ji Ruchang's gaze narrowed slightly.

When he turned his gaze to the one in the center of the three plants, which also had the most unique aura, his breath caught in his throat for a moment.

That is... the Holy Sunflower.

It still looks pale, mottled, and with slender stems, and its height is even shorter than that of the first-tier Golden Sunflower next to it.

However, its information panel is completely different.

[Second-tier Sunflower Plant: Sunflower (Growth: 49/1000)]

[Status: Recognizing Christ (In Recovery)]

【Characteristics: Purification Domain (weak), Yin Transformation - Extreme, Sun Essence Nourishment - Extreme】

[Daily Semen Reserves: 4.9 units]

[Special: Automatically restores 1 growth level/1 daily essence daily]

Three lines of information, three completely different entries that cannot be seen on the other two sunflowers.

Ji Ruchang slowly squatted down, looking straight at the Sunflower, which was only about two feet tall but had already quietly completed the first step of "resurrection".

It is no longer a "seed".

There are three now.

At the bottom of the dry well, three sunflowers, each with a different shape, grade, and characteristics, stood in neat rows, swaying gently in the warm glow cast by the ancient bronze mirror.

Their stems vary in shape; some are as straight as spears, some are slender and tender, and some are as pale as bone.

Their flower heads, some as bright as the golden sun, some as innocent as a child's, and some as hazy as an unawakened dream.

But they are all moving in the same direction—

Heading in the direction of the wellhead.

In her inner vision, Ji Ruchang quietly observed them.

a long time.

The outside world—ruins, cries, death, scheming—all seemed distant and blurred, shrouded in mist.

Only these three quietly swaying plants are real.

Their roots were embedded in the mud at the bottom of the dry well, and also in the depths of his barren, cold, and wary soul.