Yuhua Sect. Scripture Pavilion.
An elderly Daoist sat cross-legged on a straw mat, meditating. His hair and beard were entirely white, his eyes half-closed as he breathed in and out slowly.
With each breath, a long pause followed before he exhaled a stream of turbid air. Outside, the wind carried snowflakes, sweeping through the Yuhua Sect, roaring across the mountains, and finally striking the great bronze bell before the Scripture Pavilion.
Dong!!!
The ancient and massive bell let out a deep, resounding echo, stirring the elderly Daoist from his meditation.
Inside the room, a weak candle flame flickered, casting shadows over the wrinkles on his face.
"I'm really getting old... To think a mere gust of wind and snow could rouse me from meditation," Lin Jiufeng sighed as he slowly stood up. At his age, he was far from the vigorous youth he once was. Injuries were now his greatest fear.
Staring at the swirling snow outside the window, Lin Jiufeng's thoughts drifted back to a century ago.
At that time, he had just transmigrated into this cultivation world.
Here, prodigies gathered, capable of soaring through the skies and delving into the earth. Immortal abodes were hidden in the mountains, and cultivation led to eternal life.
Here, power struggles were endless—murder for treasures, territorial disputes, life-and-death battles at every turn.
Freshly transmigrated, Lin Jiufeng was ecstatic. He had only one thought in his mind—he must cultivate and achieve immortality!
But reality struck him hard.
He sought apprenticeship at the Supreme Dao but was eliminated in the first round.
He attempted to become a Buddhist monk but was deemed lacking in wisdom.
He considered joining the Demon Sect but feared being sacrificed to refine their infamous Ten Thousand Souls Banner.
He encountered no fortuitous events, no lost ruins. He didn't even dare to leap off cliffs in search of treasures—after all, he had only one life.
After years of wandering and striving, he gained nothing. His dreams of being a peerless genius were utterly shattered.
It was only then that Lin Jiufeng truly recognized his reality.
He was just an ordinary person.
No exceptional talent. No golden finger, which every transmigrator was supposed to have.
Over the years, he had witnessed the brutal side of the cultivation world—vendettas, territorial wars, deadly duels over the slightest provocation. Beneath its glamorous surface, this world was extremely unfriendly to the weak.
Coming to terms with this, Lin Jiufeng abandoned his aspirations of apprenticeship and cultivation.
But fate had other plans.
One day, he stumbled upon a gravely injured, unconscious Daoist.
The Daoist, a senior elder of the Yuhua Sect, had barely escaped a deadly battle. Lin Jiufeng saved him.
In gratitude, the elder took Lin Jiufeng back to the Yuhua Sect and made an exception to accept him.
Time flew by. A hundred years passed in the blink of an eye.
The Daoist who brought him into the sect had succumbed to his worsening injuries years ago and quietly ascended into nothingness.
Lin Jiufeng, due to his lack of talent, had focused on cultivating a wood-based technique that merely extended lifespan. Thanks to it, he had survived to the age of 130.
But recently, he could feel it—his end was near.
Looking back on his life, Lin Jiufeng sighed.
By all accounts, living to 130 was already remarkable.
But this was a golden age of cultivation.
And he was a transmigrator.
Yet he had achieved nothing.
"Where's my d*mn golden finger?"
After all these years, Lin Jiufeng found nothing different about himself.
He was the same before transmigrating. The same after transmigrating.
Did I transmigrate for nothing?!
With a weary sigh, Lin Jiufeng picked up a scripture and started reading.
After twenty years in the sect, he realized cultivation was hopeless for him. Unwilling to leave, he requested to become the Scripture Pavilion's caretaker.
Over eighty years, he had read nearly every Daoist scripture in the pavilion.
Some were easy to understand. Some were vague. Some were as cryptic as celestial texts.
Still, he reread them from time to time. With every reading, he gained new insights.
Today, he picked up a biography—the life story of Zhou Sheng, one of Yuhua Sect's most dazzling disciples.
Over a hundred years ago, Zhou Sheng was the chief disciple of Yuhua Sect.
A once-in-a-millennium genius, he had reached the Seventh Prohibition at a young age.
He battled the Demon Sect, fought against the Yao Clan, and waged war with the barbarians of the northern wastelands—undefeated in every fight.
He dominated his generation, surpassing even the older cultivators.
But his life lasted only forty years.
According to the records, Zhou Sheng committed an unforgivable crime—he married a Yao woman.
This enraged the Supreme Dao, the most powerful righteous sect.
Self-proclaimed as the guardians of cultivation orthodoxy, the Supreme Dao saw human-demon unions as heretical and demanded that Yuhua Sect hand over Zhou Sheng.
Yuhua Sect refused.
The Supreme Dao retaliated with oppression, cutting off their resources and disciples' opportunities.
To protect the sect, Zhou Sheng announced his departure and vanished.
But he did not hide—he struck back.
On the Ancient Sand Path, he, with his Seventh Prohibition cultivation, hunted down and slain an Eighth Prohibition Dao Ancestor of the Supreme Dao.
The world was shaken.
Only then did people learn that, under extreme pressure, Zhou Sheng had comprehended the lost "Yuhua Ascension Sutra."
This scripture, left behind by Yuhua Sect's founder, was said to grant true ascension when cultivated to its peak—an unrivaled divine technique.
However, three hundred years ago, during a demonic invasion, the sect's higher-ups perished, and the Yuhua Ascension Sutra was lost.
For centuries, no one had been able to reconstruct it.
The comprehension required was simply too monstrous—beyond ordinary geniuses.
But Zhou Sheng succeeded.
His feat enraged the Supreme Dao.
Their Supreme Grandmaster, who had been in seclusion, emerged and crossed three continents to hunt him down.
At Luoshui River, with the power of the Ninth Prohibition, he killed Zhou Sheng in seven moves.
The writer's grief was evident in the biography.
Zhou Sheng's fall was a tragedy for Yuhua Sect.
The Supreme Dao's tyranny silenced all who knew the truth.
Closing the book, Lin Jiufeng sighed.
"Forty years old... at his prime, comprehending the full 'Yuhua Ascension Sutra'... yet perished due to the Supreme Dao's jealousy. What a pity."
A technique that allowed a Seventh Prohibition to slay an Eighth Prohibition and endure seven blows from a Ninth Prohibition—lost once more.
When Lin Jiufeng joined Yuhua Sect, Zhou Sheng had just been killed.
He never had the chance to meet that unparalleled genius.
Placing the book down, Lin Jiufeng felt a deep regret.
Then, suddenly—
Ding!
A golden light burst in his mind, manifesting into a Primordial Golden Core.
The next moment, the core cracked open, releasing a profound, mystical energy into his consciousness.
Two lines of text appeared before his eyes.
[You carefully read Zhou Sheng's biography. Your diligence has triggered "Heavenly Comprehension."][Your comprehension is unrivaled—you have comprehended the "Yuhua Ascension Sutra."]
Lin Jiufeng stared in shock.
This... this is my golden finger?!
Heavenly Comprehension?!
His eyes turned red.
It came a hundred years late...
But it finally arrived.