Under a silver moon, the chorus of insects heightened the quiet solitude of the mountaintop, scattered with rubble and overgrown with weeds—a scene of desolation. Wang Xuan suddenly opened his eyes and brought out the purple gourd, returning to the real world. Though he had left on a deep night, after days in the celestial realm, he returned to a world still bathed in moonlight.0

The chirping of insects, occasional calls of night birds, and a gentle breeze brought a serene calm to the night. Wang Xuan felt a momentary sense of unreality—had he truly left? Was the concept of becoming an immortal simply about the spirit wandering through time?0

Here in the Old Earth, amid the dust of the mundane, he had sat unmoving for days, only to travel to the celestial realm and return? The experience seemed both dreamlike and profound.0

Fortunately, he was certain this was no dream; the purple gourd was in his hand, its surface smooth and lustrous. However, the traces of primordial chaos that once shimmered within were gone, corrected by the vast universe, an invisible suppression that even celestial treasures could not withstand.0

Something was amiss. Why was there no joyful noise? Where was the little creature? Looking down, he saw her, deeply asleep in the soil, having burrowed a small den for herself atop the mountain. She had set up a formation and then gone to sleep, carefree and unguarded against Wang Xuan, who she had whitelisted to the extent of automatically ignoring his presence so as not to disturb her slumber.0

Wang Xuan felt an urge...0