“Shen Ping, your aptitude is ordinary. This life, I’m afraid, there’s no hope for Foundation Establishment. Clan resources are limited and cannot be provided to all clan members.
After the elders deliberated, they decided to send you to Yunshan Marsh to follow the Golden Sun Sect in pioneering work. Perhaps there, you will encounter your immortal destiny.”
Inside a dark, damp wooden house.
The lamp flickered.
Shen Ping lay face down on the table, looking at the half-ruined talisman, and sighed deeply.
The Golden Sun Sect’s pioneering efforts required a large number of cultivator laborers. His four-element mixed spirit root and mediocre aptitude meant the clan used him to exchange for resources, which was very normal in cultivation clans.
However, twenty years had passed.
Not only did he not encounter the so-called immortal destiny, but instead, due to the pioneering work, he was poisoned by demonic beast venom. His body became ill, and every day he had to use spiritual energy to suppress the poison. His cultivation, which was already slow to progress, could no longer advance at all.
Now over forty years old, he was still stuck at the third level of Qi Refining.
The suffering was truly indescribable.
As a dignified transmigrator, he was completely different from what was written in books.
But there was nothing he could do.
Without a golden finger, for over twenty years, his cultivation was like walking on thin ice, deeply realizing the hardships of the lowest rung of immortal cultivation.
Boom! Crash! Following a flash of lightning, thunder rolled, shaking the sky.
Shen Ping stood up and walked to the wooden window, opening it. The drumming of rain poured into his ears. Looking at the purple lightning on the horizon, he mocked himself, saying, “I wonder which powerful cultivator is undergoing tribulation. What a pity, I’m afraid I won’t have this opportunity.”
“Alas, after wasting twenty years, I should just accept my fate!”
As a transmigrator.
He had always believed that his destiny was his to control, not heaven’s.
Even when he was judged to have a four-element mixed spirit root, he never gave up the idea of striving to cultivate. After all, there were quite a few predecessors with extremely poor aptitude who still succeeded in cultivation.
Although he didn’t have a golden finger, if he could have fortunately transmigrated into a transcendent world, his fate surely wouldn’t have been low. But things didn’t go as he wished; the cruel reality had taught him an unforgettable lesson.
No matter how much more he tried, how much more he toiled, without aptitude, without fortuitous encounters, in the end, it was all useless, with no hope in sight.
He closed the wooden door.
Tonight, Shen Ping did not continue to laboriously draw talismans, but relaxed his mind and drifted into sleep.
The next day, the rain had stopped.
The roads outside were muddy. Rainwater gathered into small streams flowing along gutters worn into the ground over time. He stepped through puddles, traversing seven or eight winding alleys, until he reached the main road paved with bluestone. Here, cultivators were numerous, and on both sides of the road, there was a line of hawkers. It looked extremely lively.