Chapter One: Heaven's First Floor

  Prologue

  March 5th, cloudy.

  The morning light rises from the east, gradually illuminating this vast land, passing over the towering and undulating Tianyin Mountains, spilling into the Xilu City at the foot of the mountain, illuminating this bustling city, reminding countless families in the city that a new day has begun.

  The young Shen Shi woke up naturally.

  At the time when the sky was about to brighten, he lay in the warm quilt without moving, quietly looking at the roof of the house. Until the morning light outside finally penetrated into his room, he sat up from the warm and comfortable bed, stretched a lazy waist, lifted the quilt and got out of bed, walked to the window, and gently pushed open the two windows.

  A refreshing morning breeze blew in from the yard outside, carrying a hint of coolness and the faint fragrance of green grass in the courtyard. Shen Shi stretched out his arms and took a deep breath, then subconsciously raised his head to gaze into the distance. What entered his line of sight was the majestic undulating silhouette of the mountain range under the gray clouds that had been shrouding the peaks all year round.

  Will today be good weather?

  He gazed at the majestic mountain with a blank expression, then turned back and walked to the desk by the window, sitting down. The room was simply furnished, with a bed for sleeping, a wardrobe at the foot of the bed, a desk by the window, and several large trunks beside it; apart from these, there were only books.

  A large bookshelf that occupied an entire wall, divided into seven layers, was packed with new and old books. At a glance, many of the books seemed to have worn-out parts, as if they were frequently read.

  Compared to the ordinary people's tables, Shen Shi's study table is slightly longer, placed neatly on the left side of the window. On both sides of the table are stacked three large boxes each, a total of six, all made of sturdy gray-brown rattan, looking solid and square. They were piled up almost to Shen Shi's chest, but it was unknown what was inside.

  Sitting in front of the desk, Shen Shi calmed down and then took a sheet of white paper from the stack on the edge of the desk that had been carefully cut into three inches wide and four inches long. He placed it in front of him. All the necessary writing tools were ready on the desk, and Shen Shi himself added water to the inkstone, ground the ink, and prepared everything properly. Then he picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and began to write on the paper.

  Black ink appears between white paper, fingers grasp the pen holder, soft and smooth progress, all the way down without any tremors, looking very stable. The movement of the pen is smooth and natural, as if what he is writing and drawing at this moment has been practiced countless times, already familiar to him. However, the appearance of this young man's handwriting is beautiful, but what finally takes shape on the white paper is not ordinary text, but rather strange and twisted patterns, simple and complex, each different from the others. Ordinary people can hardly understand the meaning of these mysterious patterns at a glance, and some might even believe they are ghostly symbols.

  Although that was the case, Shen Shi continued to paint quietly, a total of ten different twisted patterns in front and back, looking extremely intricate. Ordinary people might feel dizzy just by looking at them, but he painted with extreme familiarity, his brushstrokes showing no hesitation whatsoever, and it was unknown how long he had practiced.

  He finally let out a sigh of relief, put down the brush in his hand, rubbed his wrist, and looked at the white papers filled with strange patterns in front of him. He examined each one carefully, nodded in satisfaction after a while, then stood up, picked up the papers, and walked to the stack of large boxes on the left side, opening the lid of the top box.

  All that could be seen was the box filled with layer upon layer of white paper slips, all of the same size as those in his hand, almost filling up the large box. Each and every one of these white papers had those strange patterns drawn on them.

  Shen Shi gently put the five sheets of white paper from today into it, his gaze lingering on the white paper in the box for a moment before covering the lid again. He looked at the six large boxes placed on both sides of the desk, and a faint smile slowly emerged from the corner of his mouth.

  Then he turned his head to look outside the house, under the overcast sky, that massive mountain range shrouded in dark clouds still stood silently in the distance.

  On the other side of the small courtyard, outside a quiet corridor railing, in the morning breeze with a hint of coolness, behind the green railing and flying eaves, a short and stout man stood quietly, gazing at the boy behind the window, watching him get out of bed and open the window, watching him smile lazily, watching him pick up his brush to practice painting, watching him smile with ease, and with a hint of youthful self-satisfaction, stroking those large boxes, although they were filled with useless white paper, but perhaps it was his most precious treasure after years of hard work.

  He quietly looked at the young man, his eyes bright and clear, with a hint of memories and warmth in the depths of his eyes. At this time, Shen Shi walked to the window, his gaze shifted quickly and saw the man, a smile appeared on his face, and he beckoned: "Dad!"

  The laughter here is loud and clear, without intentionally suppressing the voice. The short and stout man, Shen Tai, who is also Shen Shi's father, smiled and beckoned to Shen Shi with a wave of his hand. Shen Shi opened the door and ran over, rushing to this side of the corridor, coming to Shen Tai's side.

  Shen Tai reached out and gently touched Shen Shi's head, asking softly: "Tired?"

  Shen Shi shook his head and smiled: "Not tired, got used to it early."

  Shen Tai smiled and said, "The ten kinds of talismans of yin-yang wu-xing are abstruse and complicated, even in the realm of cultivation, few people have ever been involved. You've managed to persist in drawing them for seven years at such a young age, it's really not easy." After saying this, he seemed to think of something else, hesitated slightly, and continued

  "The art of Fu Lu may be considered a minor path, and not highly regarded in the realm of cultivating truth, but if you can persist in it, you will eventually make progress, and it may become a reliable support for your cultivation. Father has been urging you all these years, ultimately for your own good, don't resent me in your heart."

  Shen Shi chuckled and shook his head, laughing but not speaking. The expression on his face was exactly the same as his old father's, as if they were carved from the same mold, with an uncanny resemblance.

  But Shen Tai suddenly felt a sense of dizziness, and in front of him, another familiar figure seemed to float by.

  After a while, Shen Tai seemed to wake up from some distant memory, shook his head and smiled: "Let's go, today is not bad, we'll go pay our respects to your mother and have a good chat with her."

  Shen Shi responded with a sound, following behind his father towards the front hall, only to look up at the sky as he walked, that overcast light gray sky, dense with dark clouds, just like any ordinary day.

  A wisp of smoke wafted gently, rising from among the three incense sticks. Shen Tai and his son Shen Stone stood in a quiet chamber, before them an altar with a spirit tablet inscribed simply "Spirit Seat of the White Clan of Shen".

  In front of the memorial tablet, a small incense burner had been placed, and several thin joss sticks were already inserted. The two people stood quietly in front of the incense table. The short and stout man, who usually wore a smiling face, was rarely seen to have collected his smile, standing silently in front of his late wife's memorial tablet without making a sound, quietly gazing at the memorial tablet.

  As for Shen Shi, he stood behind his father, clasped his hands together in front of the memorial tablet and bowed three times. His lips moved slightly, as if he was saying something to his deceased mother's spirit in his heart.

  In the quiet room, there was a sudden silence until Shen Tai suddenly spoke up in a flat tone, saying out of nowhere: "Little Stone, do you remember that thing I told you about?"

  Shen Shi's body suddenly trembled, as if all the muscles in his body had tensed up at that instant. He abruptly lifted his head and gazed at the back of his father, Shen Tai, who remained standing with his back to him, his eyes fixed on the spirit tablet on the incense table.

  "Remember..." After a while, Shen Shi replied in a low voice, but for some reason, his tone was tinged with a hint of awkwardness.

  "Alright." Shen Tai nodded slowly, paused for a moment, and then said, "Just today, then."

  Shen Shi gazed at his father's calm figure ahead, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that his seemingly casual hands hanging by his side had clenched into fists at some point, with such force that even the joints were faintly white.

  "Dad." Shen Shi called out softly, a complex and worried expression flashing across his face, but he stopped himself from saying anything more.

  Although Shen Tai did not turn around, he seemed to have felt something and fell silent for a while before speaking in a low voice: "Three days ago, I received a letter from Song Changlao inside the gate." At this point, Shen Tai paused for a moment, and a faint, inexplicable smile flashed across his mouth, like a bitter smile with a hint of pain and a deep-seated hatred.

  He turned around, looking at Shen Shi, looking at his only son, his own flesh and blood, and said softly: "They have taken back the quota for entering the mountain to practice Taoism that was given to you and transferred it to the Wang family."

  Shen Shi's breathing paused for a moment, and the corners of his eyes twitched involuntarily. Shen Tai took a deep breath and said, "We have no way out now, Xiao Shitou."

  Shen Shi slowly lowered his head, and after a long while, he said softly: "I understand, Father."

  Shen Tai gazed at his son, then suddenly walked forward and hugged him tightly in his arms, as if afraid that if he let go, his son would leave him forever. Shen Shi gritted his teeth, his facial muscles twitching slightly, and said in a low voice, "Dad, it's okay, I'm not afraid."

  Shen Tai closed his eyes, then slowly relaxed his arms, lowered his voice and said in a tone that only Shen Shi could hear: "You leave now, everything will be done as we previously discussed, wait for me at the butcher's place."

  Shen Shi nodded heavily and took a deep look at his father, who had been dependent on him for over ten years. Without hesitation, he turned around and walked out of the quiet room with big strides.

  Shen Tai's gaze followed the figure of his son until he disappeared from view, until the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance. Only then did he slowly turn around, once again facing the spirit tablet on the incense table.

  A wisp of smoke curled up, as if making the characters on the tablet somewhat blurry.

  Shen Tai's right hand, which had been clenched into a fist, slowly opened to reveal a small, green-tinted hourglass made of jade in the palm. It was only about an inch and a half long, with fine white sand flowing silently inside. Although it looked quite old and worn out, its luster was also very dull, making it seem like a worthless trinket that had been around for years.

  He gazed deeply at the small jade hourglass, then lifted his head and looked at the spirit tablet, suddenly smiled and said: "Xiao Bai, you must bless our son."

  This year marks the beginning of the Human Era, overthrowing the once invincible and long-ruling Tianyao Empire that dominated the Hongmeng realms for ages. Since the abolition of the Youli calendar and the establishment of the Human Calendar, it has been 10,076 years.

  Time flies like a white horse passing through a crevice, the wise man has passed away, the flames of war have been extinguished, that one brutal and inexpressible battle between humans and monsters, has now gradually become a topic that people only occasionally mention when reminiscing about the past over tea or after meals.

  Laughing and chatting, remembering the great deeds of the six saints of the human tribe, laughing at the decline of the demon tribe in the past.

  The country was destroyed, the tribe was defeated, and in the chaos of fleeing, I thought back to the last decisive battle of the past. Millions of cultivators from all over the world covered the sky and earth, surrounding the magnificent and extraordinary demon tribe's imperial city, Tianhong City, like a tight net. The heavens and the earth were filled with killing intent, the six saints stood at the edge of the clouds, wielding their powers freely, and countless lives were reduced to nothingness, blood flowing like a tide. In the mountains of corpses and seas of blood, I finally buried the last remnant of the Demon King's Court in the ruins of that vast imperial palace.

  Deep beneath the ancient ruins, outside the labyrinthine maze, in the dead of night when all is quiet, it's said that people can still hear the mournful cries of countless vengeful spirits who died unjustly.

  It's just another page turned in the book of human years.

  Except for a small number of fleeing demons, the last and most elite forces of the demon tribe, including four of the five great heavenly demons, were all annihilated in that battle of Tianhong Emperor. The remaining demons, like homeless dogs, could not escape back to their ancestral homeland of the Demon Realm. However, facing the relentless pursuit of human soldiers who sought to eradicate them, the demon tribe was forced to sacrifice the life of the last powerful heavenly demon and use their secret blood ritual to destroy the "Yinming Tower", a sacred artifact that guarded their tribe, turning the only passage leading to the Demon Realm, the "Qingling Realm", into a deadly sea of darkness that would kill any living being who entered it. This managed to block the human pursuit, but also meant that the demon tribe was forever trapped within that realm, never to escape again.

  In the blink of an eye, ten thousand years have passed, and the once brilliant and unparalleled figures have been unable to withstand the erosion of time, leaving behind countless monuments and statues erected by later generations that will be eternally circulated in the vast expanse. And as for the human tribe, after ten thousand years, it has become even more prosperous, especially since the era of the Great War between humans and demons, the cultivation of Taoist magic has been refined by countless generations of extraordinary talents and elite members of the human tribe, far surpassing that of previous eras. Now in this present world, it is the only one that can dominate the vast expanse, all other tribes and demonic creatures are suppressed to the point where they can only hide their tracks and struggle to survive, completely unable to contend with the powerful human tribe, especially those numerous and incredibly powerful human cultivators who are as numerous as the stars.

  This year is one of the ten thousand seven hundred and sixty-six years of human history, and it is also a prosperous era for humanity, with flourishing flowers and fierce flames.

  This year, the dark and gloomy sea of Yin Sha still covered the entire realm of Qing Ling, separating the two tribes of humans and demons who were as incompatible as fire and water, and it seemed that this situation would continue forever.

  This year, among the 108 realms of Hongmeng, the legendary top ten heavenly realms were still elusive legends. The demon realm and the Qingling realm, which had turned into a dead sea hell, were silently hidden in the corner of people's memories without a sound. With the vast and boundless Hongmeng main realm as the leader, the remaining 96 large and small realms were all under human control.

  This year, Shen Shi was twelve years old.

  For him, life's journey has suddenly risen with a shocking wave, and is about to turn over a new page.

  A new book, a kind of new life and new beginning... Wait for another update later, today's first day with three updates.