Don't farm, cultivate immortality!

He circled around and found the entrance, but when he saw the hole, he became nervous again.

The hole had been dug open, and an entrance that could be easily passed through was clearly visible.

Someone has been here, and that mural... may no longer be of any use; it may have simply become a mural.

Regardless, we still have to go down and take a look.

If that doesn't work, then he'll find another way. He took a deep breath and went into the cave.

A cool wind blew in my face, carrying the earthy smell of groundwater, and I could hear the gurgling of flowing water.

The dull sound of footsteps echoed as Zhuang Xing descended the stone steps one by one until he finally arrived in front of the painted wall.

The firelight illuminated the magnificent scene: green mountains and white clouds, cranes and peach groves, and thousands of resplendent palaces, with gold and jewels gleaming in the light.

He remembered every step the white mouse took on the mural that day. He was grateful that he had a photographic memory and remembered how to activate the magic on the mural.

After taking a deep breath, he hovered his sword, which hummed slightly and hovered to his right. He reviewed the activation method one last time and then urged the hilt to tap on the painting.

A rhythmic sound arose, and the painted wall lit up, as if celestial music was playing, making the surroundings feel ethereal.

That's right, that's the feeling! The rhythm of the Great Dao on this mural has not yet faded away!

Zhuang Xing was overjoyed, and the next moment, he found himself inside the wall.

But he froze for a moment. This time, what he saw wasn't that wondrous sight, but himself...

The sound of a baby crying reached my ears. It was a bright and sunny spring day. Inside the simple mud-brick hut, the midwife slapped the baby's bottom hard, followed by a loud wail.

The young woman held the baby close, her face pressed against its. She was covered in sweat, her hair disheveled, and she carefully embraced the newborn life. A smile graced her tired face, and her eyes saw nothing but the child in her arms.

Zhuang Xing stood beside the bed. Was this his memory?

But on the day he was born, he couldn't see everything clearly; his perspective was blurry, as a newborn child can't see many things clearly.

This didn't seem like his memory; it was more like a projection, as if this scene had been recorded and was being shown to him again.

He reached out to touch it, but he couldn't touch anything. These were all things of the past, and naturally he couldn't touch people from the past.

He silently watched his own birth, finding it quite interesting; childhood is a time that never returns and is always something to cherish.

Moreover, he could see things he had never seen before. He could walk into the yard and see how his mother wove cloth in the yard every day. Most of the time, she was alone, working very hard, cooking for herself, and gathering firewood by herself.

Zhuang Xing saw the torrential rain of that summer. Under the gloomy sky, his mother stood at the entrance of the village, tiptoeing and looking towards the road at the entrance. An oxcart came along. She received her husband's letter from the old hunter, her face full of smiles. She put the money her husband had sent back aside.

But before they could be happy for long, the rain started to fall.

It was raining heavily, and someone told her to stay inside for a while, but she rushed home without stopping. Inevitably, the rain soaked her hair and clothes, and she almost tripped and fell.

She rushed to her child's side and saw the child staring at her with wide eyes; only then did her furrowed brows relax.

Everything was exactly as Zhuang Xing remembered, reminding him of the peaceful, boring, yet reassuring days when he was bound in swaddling clothes.

Until that snowy night came.

On a snowy night, a charcoal fire burned inside the house.

He went to bed early, but cried because he needed to urinate, trying to wake his mother.

This time, Zhuang Xing saw the tiger demon outside the house. The tiger demon was lying on the ground and had devoured a person, bones and all.

It lay on the snow like a wild beast, feasting, and finally tore off a human leg, holding it in its hand as it walked and chewed.

Amidst the sound of wind and snow, the baby's cries were faint, yet they still sounded somewhat special in the night.

The burly tiger demon twitched its ears and walked towards the house.

It easily pushed down the earthen wall, and it was here that things differed from Zhuangxing's memory.

The woman did not hide under the bed, but ran out from under the bed by herself.

The tiger demon seemed not to have expected a person to suddenly appear. It paused for a moment, still gnawing on the leg in its hand. It glanced sideways at the bed, seemingly noticing something under it, but still tilted its head back and swallowed the human leg whole, exhaling white breath from its mouth and nose, before chasing after the woman.

The woman's and the tiger demon's voices disappeared into the darkness, and Zhuang Xing's heart tightened suddenly.

In the firelight, a baby crawled out from under the bed.

The baby cried loudly, as if trying to attract attention, its tender hands and feet struggling to climb through the snow.

Zhuang Xing understood what he was doing; he was crawling towards where there were people, trying to wake them up and attract their attention.

This is all an infant who cannot speak, walk, or take care of himself can do. Zhuang Xing understands his thoughts because he has also wondered if... if the woman lured the tiger demon away, would he be able to survive?

But no villagers came. Instead, a woman with a sword at her waist stopped in front of the baby.

She reached out and picked up the baby.

That was Yan Huai'an. Yan Huai'an glanced at the firelight beside him, then at the baby in his arms.

Ultimately, she chose to go inside, warm the baby with fire, and wrap the baby in a small blanket that had fallen on the floor.

But the baby did not fall asleep because of the warmth; he continued to cry, even when he was being carefully cared for.

Yan Huai'an looked a little helpless, but in the end she picked up the baby and left, holding the baby in one arm and holding a sword in the other, moving forward in the snow.

There was a pool of blood in the snow, and Zhuang Xingxin looked as if he had been hit by a hammer.

Scattered hair, torn clothes, stark white bones, fragments of flesh and blood...

The blue belt made his mind go blank...

What appeared before him this time was not a blank stone tablet, but a real skeleton.

The woman who had cared for him for so long and who had held him tightly in her arms when he was born had lost her warmth.

A chill enveloped him, but what followed was an uncontrollable rage. A fire ignited in his chest, his hands clenched so tightly that veins bulged, and his blood boiled.

Suddenly, he felt a sense of déjà vu.

It was that dream...

In his dream, everything was dark and cold. His whole body was cold, but it felt as if there was a raging fire burning in his chest.

He finally understood that everything he was seeing was just a dream he had been having.

Then, a second dream appeared before his eyes.

Amidst verdant hills and clear waters, in a guest room of the Taoist temple, Yan Huai'an put down the baby in his arms.

Opposite her stood an old Taoist priest with a white beard. The priest asked, "Miss Yan wishes to entrust this child to the care of Xuanqing Temple?"

Yan Huai'an nodded and handed the child over.

The old Taoist priest took the baby without hesitation and kept it.

In the blink of an eye, the baby grew into a teenager.

He ate and lived with the disciples in the temple, and from a very young age, he held a sword in his hand.

He was taciturn and only kept his sword as his companion. He practiced swordsmanship at night and in the snow.

He even practiced swordsmanship while boiling water in the kitchen.

He swung his sword thousands of times every day, practicing his swordplay in front of that smooth, unbroken mountain wall without ever stopping for a moment.

The only difference was that one snowy night, while he was practicing his sword, he caught five panda spirits who had sneaked into the kitchen.

He intended to slay the demon with his sword, but the old Taoist appeared before him, grasped his hand, and shook his head.

“These five little demons did not harm anyone; they only wanted to steal some rice to fill their stomachs. Their crime does not warrant death.”

"Master, demons deserve to die."

The old Taoist sighed and said, "You were born with innate Qi and have cultivated diligently, but your resentment is too strong. You should take in these five little demons. In any case, you must raise them for a year. After a year, you can decide whether to keep them alive or not."

The old Taoist priest gave the order, and the boy had no choice but to agree and take the five pandas into his house.

The boy continued to practice his swordsmanship tirelessly, but some things had changed.

Sometimes, when he was practicing swordsmanship, five pandas would watch him from the side, nervously fetching water for him, fetching his sword for him, and hanging his clothes to dry.

One day, he summoned the five pandas to the kitchen, told them to start the fire, and busied himself on the platform, grinding some flour from the rare wheat and baking a few cakes, which he then shared with the pandas.

A year later, he carved five bronze plaques and hung them on the panda's neck.

The old Taoist priest smiled and nodded upon seeing this.

Time passes, and the sun and moon alternate.

Before they knew it, fewer and fewer people were on the mountain. People often came down the mountain, but some of them never came back.

The boy had grown up quite a bit, and the tassel on his sword waist had changed from white to black.

A group of Taoist priests stood in front of the Taoist disciples.

"The way of Heaven is vast and boundless, and the way of humanity is insignificant. Now, demons and monsters are running rampant in the world. Although our Taoist sect is powerless to reverse the situation, we must not lose our righteousness. All of you, follow me down the mountain and into the world to save people and save lives."

A righteous spirit resonated before the Taoist gate.

The disciples stood with their swords at their sides and swore an oath before the Sword Hall, where numerous memorial tablets were erected.

"With a loyal heart, I temper the talisman; with crimson blood, I cleanse the sword!"

They all went down the mountain, and the once grand Xuanqing Temple became an empty building in the blink of an eye.

The boy also went down the mountain. Before leaving, he gave instructions to the five little demons.

"Your cultivation is too low. You must not go down the mountain to seek death. Stay here. There is a sword aura of the patriarch on this mountain that can protect you."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Normally, the boy rarely paid attention to the five little demons, except for occasionally making them cakes and waiting for them to find food on their own. But before leaving, the boy still left some items behind.

He left behind the sword talisman, his dry rations, and prepared bedding for warmth.

"take care of yourself."

He patted the panda's head. He rarely spoke when he came down the mountain, so this was a rare instance of him saying something caring.

At this point, the panda still didn't know what this meant.

The boy eventually left the Taoist temple. After descending the mountain, he parted ways with his master, saying that he was going to the Jiangnan area, where the demon plague was more severe, and that he would go there to save more people.

The old Taoist priest sighed, seemingly knowing he couldn't keep him, and simply gave him some talismans, telling him to be careful on his journey.

The boy then traveled south, slaying all the demons and monsters he encountered along the way.

He inquired everywhere, yet continued to practice his sword every day. He would eliminate any evil spirits he encountered on the road and kill any thieves he met. In doing so, he saved many people and rid many of their afflictions, and was thus called the "Sword Immortal."