Chapter 2459 3 Years of Qi Refining

These words of Elder Ye often echoed in his mind.

But at this moment, his gaze only deepened slightly.

Elder Ye never told him about the true immortal realm or the history of the three thousand immortal domains, nor did he show him those ancient books. He was only reading about the past of some great beings of heaven and earth, but he did not have any sudden enlightenment or make any earth-shattering declarations.

He wasn't particularly moved by what he read; he only gleaned from the few descriptions between the lines how to survive...!

Yourself.

He also wanted to help his people survive. To this day, he has no grand ambitions. But he is no longer the ignorant child he once was, who believed that the world was full of hardship, that his family was constantly declining due to the environment, and that his parents had died and his grandfather had died tragically.

Wang Qicang learned to think, to see the predicament behind the Wang family, not just the present one, and became calm and composed.

Three hundred years later.

This day.

Wang Qicang slowly read the ancient book, then solemnly cupped his hands and said:

"Elder Ye, I want to cultivate Qi."

"...very good."

……

Looking back on this day, Wang Qicang realized that it was the first time Old Master Ye's voice was no longer cold, and the first time he had spoken without insulting him.

But it only lasted for one day.

later.

Wang Qicang began his true Qi cultivation, absorbing the essence of heaven and earth, breathing in harmony with the ancient trees and immortal forests, and exhaling and exhaling in unison with heaven and earth.

Heaven and earth, spring.

He washed himself with a bucket and his clothes by hand. There was no warmth of spring returning to the earth, nor the care of his elders. He was surrounded by countless monuments and relied on the reeds for support.

Heaven and earth, summer.

He observed the fallen leaves and the flourishing of all living things, feeling as if he were the only living being in the world, accompanied only by the ancient books he had almost worn out from reading.

Heaven and earth, autumn.

He eats autumn wood, drinks autumn water, reads ten thousand volumes, yet his expression shows no sorrow for the past or present; he cultivates all kinds of energy, yet his expression is as ordinary as that of a mortal.

Heaven and earth, winter.

Drinking winter ice to temper one's body, cultivating immortality through strange paths, and discerning the decaying and blackened charts of all races.

From beginning to end, alchemy, qi cultivation, talismans, and so on, are all things that cultivators in the qi cultivation stage can do. It's just that the immortal path has long since abandoned this major concept after countless ages.

End of the year.

They tore off their own robes to pay homage to the heroes of all nations.

This is the trial.

That's thirty thousand years!

Thirty thousand years of Qi Refining is enough to terrify countless cultivators, even those on their deathbeds, into sitting up in shock. Is this a living being? Has it gone mad, or has it adopted a mad master?!

But coincidentally.

There really was such a Qi-cultivation technique in the Immortal Realm, which was revered as the Five Elements Evergreen Path.

The Three Thousand Immortal Realms are in a state of semi-discontinuity in their lineage, and it is almost impossible to find a single orthodox cultivator of the Five Elements Immortal Path. It is generally acknowledged that the path to immortality is difficult to achieve. Although there were many who attained immortality through the Five Elements in the past, it is now extremely difficult to find a Five Elements Immortal in the Three Thousand Immortal Realms.

Without teachers, there are no preachers.

Rumors circulated that there were genuine Five Elements lineages in the outer realms, but given the vastness of the Immortal Realm, cultivators from the three thousand Immortal Domains said they should just listen and not try to discern the truth.

On this day, the Ye family ancestral land remained desolate.

The reeds swayed gently in the wind and snow, like the soft whispers of countless loyal souls.

Ten thousand ancient tombs stand silently, watching over each other.

Wang Qicang, however, stopped all his cultivation.

He sat cross-legged in front of the snow-covered bluestone, slowly tidying up his luggage.

They were some broken, yellowed ancient books, the edges of the pages long since curled up, the ink so faint as to be almost illegible.

For 30,000 years, they have accompanied him from his childhood to the present day.

It is a companion in solitude and a source of warmth in times of loneliness.

They are not treasures, but they bear witness to all the years of his cultivation.

He had neither divine consciousness nor a storage ring.

He simply placed the books one by one into a simple bamboo book basket.

It was as if he were carrying the path he had struggled to walk for thirty thousand years on his shoulders. He was draped in a black cloak and was about to leave.

To truly embark on his own immortal path and fulfill the true wish he made upon arriving here.

The wind and snow made it even colder.

Wang Qicang stood up and took out a water mirror that was as cold as iron.

The mirror was blurry, yet the outline of a person was still visible.

He first cut off his long hair.

Thirty thousand years of untrimmed black hair slipped onto the snow.

It's like cutting away piece by piece all the confusion, silence, and suffering of the past.

He was shaving his stubble with an ice skate.

The cold air brushed against my skin, making a soft rubbing sound, and the stubble that fell off seemed like the ashes of the past.

The person in the mirror gradually became clearer.

He was not handsome; his brow bone was sharp and distinct due to years of suppressed emotions; his nose was straight; and his lips were cold and hard.

His cheeks were slightly thin, and his skin had a pale and cold look left by years of hard training.

Despite his slightly thin appearance, this young man exuded an inexplicable sense of composure.

Like the lines carved by wind and rain on ancient rocks, they are calm, simple, yet indestructible.

But what truly makes his eyes impossible to ignore is his gaze.

Those eyes were clear, calm, and emotionless, yet deep within them lay the unwavering resolve of someone who had endured thirty thousand years of solitary cultivation without ever collapsing.

A steadfastness without shouting, boasting, or resentment.

It was as if the wind and snow could not make him bow his head, nor could the fate of his family make him retreat even a step.

He clearly only looks like a teenager.

But it gives people a sense of...

The silent yet powerful force of "If heaven and earth do not provide a way to survive, he will forge one himself."

The wind and snow continued as before, but he was no longer the same.

At this moment, Wang Qicang looked like an ordinary cultivator.

But he also resembles a great figure who is about to emerge from the desolation and whose future will surely illuminate the mountains and rivers.

The wind and snow intensified.

Wang Qicang, carrying a book basket, walked to the end of the Ye family's ancestral land and stepped down from the last stone platform of the Ye family.

Their footsteps were extremely light, as if they were treading on empty snow.

Just as the toes touched the ground—

The entire snow-covered plain suddenly trembled slightly.

At first, only the nearest one or two plants swayed gently, as if touched by a distant, imperceptible pulse.

next interest.

Large swathes of reeds lean to one side.

It's not the wind.

The world was deathly still, without a sound of wind.

But countless ice and snow reeds bend and fall on their own, from far to near, from near to far, like layers of white waves slowly pushing across the ice field.

The snow-covered reeds stretched out like a tide, perfectly orderly.

It spread out from the depths of the ancestral land in the direction where Wang Qicang left.

—It was as if heaven and earth had opened up a long, snow-white road for him.

He didn't turn around, nor was he surprised; he simply paused slightly.

The cold wind lashed against his pale face, but his eyes only became more steadfast.

The snow-covered reeds rippled gently, breathing softly.

Like the earth breathing, like the long heartbeat of winter.

The sky was vast and the world was boundless.

No divine light was seen, no immortal figure was seen.

Only this concrete landscape of the earth is slowly swaying.

Millions of reeds lay flattened, and the vast snowfield stretched out before him, the ice and snow receding like a tide beneath his feet.

Wang Qicang carried his book basket as he walked out along the naturally paved snow path.