As time went by, Zhang Wenda always felt that some things in his memory became abstract. He didn't know whether it was true or a distortion of his memory.

However, when he suddenly faced those things again, he found that something was wrong with the world.

This is a daily cultivation journal of a Loose Cultivator from Black Dragon Mountain, meticulously recording every detail of his cultivation journey. As the saying goes, "A woman fears marrying the wrong man, and a man fears entering the wrong profession." Having started as a bottom-tier Loose Cultivator—and one from Black Dragon Mountain, notorious for its banditry—Liu Xiaolou had no choice but to accept his fate. He struggled tirelessly in a world dominated by prestigious sects, hustling for a single Spirit Stone, a Spirit Pill, a Magic Artifact, or a Spirit Herb. The mundane realities of life—the daily grind of firewood, rice, oil, and salt—mingled with the bittersweet trials of cultivation. The true flavor of this existence could only be savored by those who lived it, yet one thing remained constant: a steadfast devotion to the Dao, driven by the pursuit of eternal life

I am the only one in the world who kills, and no one in the world kills me.

This is a crazy man, his crazy journey, endless journey, countless myths unfolding one by one, bizarre, no one knows the end of time and space, you don’t know, I don’t know, this is a crazy man for life, A journey for knowledge, to explore eternity.

When the night came, there was a twittering sound in his ears, and the monster in the shadows began to move restlessly. Jason’s hungry stomach began to roar, and he couldn’t help swallow his saliva. Hunger was the best spur.