(A story about a family cultivating immortals and managing farming.) Why have people cultivated immortals since ancient times? How many dead bones have been left here.

Is it the eternal life of one person, or the journey of a group? Is it the person who chooses to be a big stone, immortal and undying? Or is it the person who chooses to be like a summer cicada, living out his own splendor and singing his own unique melody?

Cultivating immortals is not just about fighting and killing, it can also involve dealing with human relationships and worldly affairs.

Someone once saw me at the end of the world and reverently called me the World-Entwined Serpent - Jörmungandr. Someone also once gazed upon me from the end of Hell and called me the Ancient Serpent - Satan. I was also feared by the gods and called me the Hundred-Headed Dragon - Typhon. I have had many names: the Serpent of Creation, the Serpent of Sacrifice, the Serpent of Ritual, the Serpent of the World... But after crossing Chaos and reaching the Primordial Realm, I have only one divine name - the Primordial Ancient Serpent, the Origin of All.