Shengui Changsheng: Start from Zhenwuwei and add some points to cultivate immortality

A woman in white stood in the crowd.

She had an exquisitely beautiful face, a cool and aloof demeanor, and was surrounded by a faint moonlight.

Moonlight.

The senior on page four, the old friend on page five.

Yuehua also saw him, paused slightly, and then quickly walked over.

"Fu Shaoping?"

Fu Shaoping smiled slightly: "Senior Sister Yuehua, it's been a long time."

Yuehua looked at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions.

"You... what are you doing here? We've been looking for you for a long time."

Fu Shaoping didn't answer, but only asked, "What do you want with me?"

Yuehua was silent for a moment, then said, "Master wants to see you. And... that person also wants to see you."

Fu Shaoping knew who "that person" she was referring to.

leaf.

The person who looks exactly like him.

He shook his head: "No need. I've already seen those I needed to see."

Yuehua looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion.

"Are you really... planning to live like this for the rest of your life?"

Fu Shaoping smiled, his smile full of peace.

"Isn't this better?"

Yuehua opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say.

Fu Shaoping turned around and looked at the vegetable garden he had cultivated with his own hands, the chicken coop he had built with his own hands, and the simple yet warm little house.

“I have gone through five lifetimes, traveled countless roads, and experienced countless things. I thought what I was looking for was supreme power, eternal truth, and a method that could change everything.”

"But in the end, I realized that what I was looking for was just this kind of place."

He turned around and looked at Yuehua.

"There is smoke from cooking fires, the crowing of roosters, greetings from neighbors, and the laughter of children. You can see the sunlight when you wake up in the morning and hear the chirping of insects when you fall asleep at night. You can help your neighbors repair their roofs, chop firewood in the back hills, and pick some vegetables from your own garden to cook a bowl of hot soup."

"This is what I want."

Yuehua fell silent.

After a long silence, she whispered, "You really...have you let go?"

Fu Shaoping nodded.

"Let go? No, it's not letting go. It's finding it."

He pointed to the small house, to the vegetable garden, and to the children playing at the village entrance.

“The thing I’ve been searching for for five lifetimes is right here.”

Yuehua looked at him, a sense of relief gradually appearing in her eyes.

"I understand," she said softly. "Then... take care."

Fu Shaoping nodded: "Take care, Senior Sister."

Yuehua turned around and walked towards the carriage.

Halfway there, she suddenly turned back:
"Fu Shaoping, if one day you want to come back..."

Fu Shaoping shook his head, interrupting her:
"Will not."

Yuehua paused for a moment, then smiled.

That smile, fleeting like a night-blooming cereus, was breathtakingly beautiful.

"it is good."

She turned and got into the carriage, which slowly drove away.

Fu Shaoping stood at the village entrance, watching the carriage disappear at the end of the mountain road, then turned and walked towards his hut.

……

As evening falls, wisps of smoke rise from the chimneys.

Fu Shaoping sat on a small stool in front of the house, watching the sunset on the horizon.

The little girl ran over, holding a bunch of wildflowers in her hands.

"Brother Shaoping, here you go!"

Fu Shaoping took it and patted her head with a smile.

"Thank you, Xiaoya."

The little girl tilted her head and looked at him: "Brother Shaoping, why have you been smiling all day?"

Fu Shaoping was taken aback for a moment, then smiled.

"Because today is a good day."

The little girl blinked, not quite understanding, but she was also infected by his smile and started laughing along.

In the distance, the sound of a neighbor woman calling her children home for dinner could be heard.

Nearby, chickens and ducks were clucking in the shed, waiting to be fed.

On the horizon, the fiery sunset gradually faded into darkness.

Fu Shaoping stood up, patted the dirt off his clothes, and took Xiaoya's hand.

"Let's go home and have dinner."

Two figures, one tall and one short, slowly walked towards the small house from which smoke was rising in the afterglow of the setting sun.

Behind him were green mountains and clear waters, the place he had spent five lifetimes searching for—his final resting place.

The smoke from the chimneys of Fujia Village rises and dissipates day after day.

Fu Shaoping has lived in this small village for a century.

Over the past century, people have come and gone in the village. The children of yesteryear have grown into adults, married, had children, and gradually grown old. Little Ya became Old Ya, and Old Ya became Great-Grandma. Her grandchildren play under the locust tree at the village entrance, just as she did in her youth.

Fu Shaoping, however, remained the same.

Time has left no trace on him. He still looks like he's in his thirties, dressed in coarse cloth, working at sunrise and resting at sunset. The villagers have long been accustomed to this "ageless immortal" and have also gotten used to not asking about his origins.

One day, Fu Shaoping was loosening the soil in the vegetable garden behind the house when he suddenly had a thought.

He straightened up and looked towards the village entrance.

At the village entrance, there was an extra person who appeared out of nowhere.

She was a young woman, about twenty years old, dressed in a simple blue dress, with delicate features and a gentle demeanor. She stood under the old locust tree, looking towards the village.

Fu Shaoping looked at her and suddenly smiled.

He put down the hoe, washed his hands, and walked out of the yard.

"Young lady, who are you looking for?"

The woman was slightly taken aback when she saw him, then smiled broadly.

"Looking for you."

Fu Shaoping raised an eyebrow: "Looking for me?"

The woman nodded: "My name is Xiaoya. My great-grandmother asked me to come and find you."

Fu Shaoping was taken aback, then remembered the little girl with pigtails who liked to give him wildflowers.

“Little Ya…” he murmured, “Are you Little Ya’s great-granddaughter?”

The woman nodded: "My great-grandmother said that she often came to play with you when she was a child. She also said that if you were still alive, she would ask you if you would like to attend her great-grandson's one-month celebration."

Fu Shaoping smiled.

"She remembers it very clearly."

He turned around, went back into the house, and came out a moment later with a small wooden carving in his hand.

It was a lifelike little rabbit, carved by him for Xiaoya years ago. Xiaoya kept it, then passed it on to her granddaughter, and then to her great-granddaughter.

"Give this back to her." Fu Shaoping handed the wooden carving to the woman. "Tell her I won't drink the wine. But I wish her great-grandson peace, joy, and a long life."

The woman took the wood carving, looked at him, her eyes full of curiosity.

"You... are you really the immortal that Great-Grandma talked about?"

Fu Shaoping shook his head: "I'm not a god. I'm just an ordinary person... who has lived a little longer."

The woman nodded, seemingly understanding, and turned to leave. After taking a few steps, she suddenly turned back:

"Oh, by the way, my great-grandmother also asked me to tell you something."

Fu Shaoping looked at her.

The woman said, "She said thank you for playing with her back then. Those were the happiest days of her life."

Fu Shaoping was slightly taken aback.

Then he smiled.

The smile contained warmth, emotion, and a touch of melancholy.

Tell her, "Me too."

The woman nodded and skipped away.

Fu Shaoping stood at the village entrance, watching her figure disappear into the distance, remaining motionless for a long time.

After a long while, he turned around and walked back to his small courtyard.

As the sun sets, wisps of smoke rise from the chimneys.

He sat on a small stool in front of the house, watching the sunset on the horizon, feeling a sense of peace.

It's been a hundred years.

Those familiar faces, one by one, have left. New faces, one by one, have appeared.

This is the human world.

This is the path he chose.

He looked up at the vegetable garden he had cultivated with his own hands, at the chicken coop he had built with his own hands, and at the simple yet warm little house.

Everything remains the same.

Everything is different now.

He took out a small wooden carving from his pocket—it was a new one he had carved, also a little rabbit, which he was giving to Xiaoya's great-granddaughter.

"Who will lead the next century?"

He murmured, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

A gentle evening breeze blows, and wisps of smoke rise from the chimneys.

The last rays of sunset faded quietly from the horizon.

Night has fallen.

Fu Shaoping remained seated, gazing at the starry sky, quietly awaiting the sunrise the next day.
-
A light in the darkness.

Fu Shaoping opened his eyes and found himself suspended in nothingness. There was no sky, no earth, no time, no space. Only endless darkness and a faint glimmer of light in the distance.

He knew that this was the gap between the pages of the Hundred Generations Book.

At the end of each page, he would come here, stay briefly, and then be moved to the next page.

But this time, it seems a little different.

The light grew brighter and brighter, eventually coalescing into a human figure.

He was a middle-aged man with a refined face and gentle demeanor, dressed in a moon-white robe. He stood there, seemingly one with the entire void, yet exuding a chilling presence.

Fu Shaoping looked at him and suddenly remembered that name.

"leaf?"

The man smiled slightly and nodded.

"Fu Shaoping, we've finally met."

Fu Shaoping was silent for a moment, then said, "You've been waiting for me all this time?"

Ye nodded, then shook his head: "Waiting for you isn't entirely about waiting for you. What I'm waiting for is someone who can turn the pages of a hundred lifetimes."

He looked at Fu Shaoping, his gaze deep and unfathomable.

"The Book of a Hundred Generations is something I left behind. Or rather, something I brought back from somewhere."

Fu Shaoping was startled.

Did he create the Book of a Hundred Generations?

Ye seemed to see through his thoughts and continued, "Don't be surprised. You'll understand everything when you reach the end. Right now, you only need to know one thing."

He paused, then said, word by word:

"Page five is the last page."

Fu Shaoping's pupils contracted slightly.

Last page?
Ye nodded: "The Book of a Hundred Lifetimes has five pages. You have already turned four pages, this is the last page. Turn this page, and you will see the truth. You will also see... yourself."

He raised his hand, and a ray of light drifted toward Fu Shaoping, disappearing into his brow.

Go ahead. Page five is waiting for you.

Fu Shaoping closed his eyes, letting that force pull him into a new cycle of reincarnation.

Ye's last words echoed in my ears:

"Remember, page five, there is no turning back. Only forward, or... eternal damnation."
-
When Fu Shaoping opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a cold stone bed.

The room was dimly lit and simply furnished, containing only a bed, a table, and a futon. Several luminous pearls were embedded in the walls, emitting a faint glow.

He sat up and looked down at his body.

Thin, pale, with a bone age of about fifteen or sixteen. His dantian was empty—no, not empty, but rather… a tangled mess.

Fu Shaoping frowned slightly and looked inward at his dantian.

In the dantian, the meridians are disordered, and spiritual energy cannot be gathered. This condition is known in the cultivation world as "born with damaged meridians," and it occurs in only one in ten thousand people. People with this constitution are unable to cultivate for their entire lives.

"A useless meridian..."

Fu Shaoping murmured, but showed no sign of frustration.

Through countless reincarnations, he had experienced far too many beginnings. There were menial servants at the first level of Qi Refining, ostracized illegitimate sons, and severely injured rogue cultivators. This time, it was merely starting with a destroyed meridian—what was there to fear?
He began to receive the memories of this body.

The original owner of this body was also named Fu Shaoping. A member of the Fu family in Qingyang City—but unlike on page four, this time, he was not an illegitimate son, but a direct descendant, the only son of the Fu family patriarch.

Unfortunately, he was born with a defective meridian and is unable to cultivate.

In the world of cultivation, one who cannot cultivate is a useless person. Even if he is the only son of the family head, he cannot escape the cold stares and ridicule of others.

His father, Fu Qingshan, was in the late stage of the Golden Core realm. Although he cared for him, he was also disappointed in him. His mother died early, and he had no one to take care of him. The other members of the clan were respectful to him on the surface, but behind his back they all called him "the good-for-nothing young master."

The original owner grew up in this environment, became withdrawn and taciturn, and eventually died of depression at the age of fifteen.

Then, Fu Shaoping arrived.

He got up, walked to the only window in the stone chamber, and pushed it open.

Outside the window stretched a continuous expanse of palaces and pavilions, shrouded in mist and rich in spiritual energy. That was the core area of ​​the Fu family, home to the clan's strongest and most talented members.

His stone chamber, located in the most remote corner of the Fu family estate, was meant for clansmen who had erred to reflect on their mistakes. The original owner's placement here was clearly intended to serve him a purpose.

“A useless meridian…” Fu Shaoping murmured, “If it were an ordinary person, they would indeed have no choice but to accept their fate. But I…”

He closed his eyes and focused his mind on his dantian.

A "disabled meridian" doesn't mean one is truly unable to cultivate. It simply means the meridians are disordered, preventing spiritual energy from condensing into a normal cultivation path. However, if the disordered meridians are "rewoven" using the principles of contracts, it might be possible to find a new path.

In the *Netherworld Contract Scripture*, there is a secret technique called the "Meridian Contract Technique." It uses the power of a contract to reshape the meridians, guiding disordered spiritual energy into a new cultivation path. This method is extremely dangerous; the slightest mistake can sever all meridians, resulting in the destruction of both body and spirit. However, if successful, one can break free from the shackles of a congenitally damaged meridian and embark on a unique path of cultivation.

Fu Shaoping opened his eyes, his gaze resolute.

Let's start with this.

He sat down cross-legged and began to try.
-
The art of pulse diagnosis is far more difficult than Fu Shaoping imagined.

He focused his mind on his dantian, using the methods from the "Netherworld Contract Scripture" to condense an extremely weak wisp of contract power. This wisp of power, like the finest silk thread, carefully probed into the chaotic meridians.

The first step is to find the "source" of the meridians.

In a normal person, the meridians are like rivers, with main streams and tributaries, and the network is clear. But his meridians are like a tangled mess, with countless tiny meridians intertwined, making it impossible to distinguish between the main stream and the tributaries.

Fu Shaoping is not in a hurry.

He examined every detail, meticulously untangling each thread. Each time he found a subtle connection, he temporarily secured it with the power of the contract. This process was extremely mentally taxing; every fifteen minutes, he needed to stop and rest for half an hour.

On the first day, he found three threads.

The next day, five more were found.

On the third day, ten items were recorded.

A month later, he finally managed to roughly outline the tangled mess of meridians.

But this is only the first step. (End of Chapter)