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... For mortals, it was a word of mystical wonder. In their imagination, cultivators lived apart from the world. They rested beneath ancient trees from dawn until dusk, cleansed themselves in clear streams, watched drifting clouds in the heavens, and listened as flowers bloomed and withered. When the whim carried them, they traveled to the Northern Sea at dawn and roamed through Cangwu by dusk[1]. They visited friends and discussed the Dao in freedom.
In truth, both the cultivation world and ...
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