MTL - Creation Notebook - Chapter 15 Crucible, dry pot?

In the realm of cultivating the nine states, the Taoist court is unified, the aristocratic families are oppressed, the sects are monopolized, and the barriers to Taoism are tight.

The monks at the bottom have no way to practice Buddhism, lack spiritual stones, and have a hard time living.

Ten-year-old Mo Hua was born with a weak body, was born as a Buddhist monk, and came from a poor family.

Even if he practices hard, he may only be a humble ant-like Qi-refining monk throughout his life.

Until a Tao tablet appeared in his sea of ​​consciousness.

You can comprehend the heavenly formations and infinitely enhance your spiritual consciousness.

Ink painting will use the Taoist stele to break down the barriers of Taoism, create supreme spiritual consciousness, fully understand the formations of the Immortal Tao, and strive for the road to immortality…

- Description from novelbuddy

Throughout this current life of mine, I will pay no attention to my past lives, nor will I seek future lives. I wish to live vigorously, to pay back debt of gratitude and fulfill duty to avenge, to defeat valiant heroes from all species, and to proudly laugh at all the Gods and Demons of the Six Path of Reincarnation!

Here is a story about an ordinary hard worker struggling hard in the troubled times of the Three Kingdoms and working hard to farm.

- Description from novelbuddy

The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

- Description from novelupdates