Cultivating with Symbiosis Panel-Chapter 749 - 417: Life Is Copper Rust
What more can be said?
Even Li Ye was powerless.
Should he blame himself for raising the child too well?
"Alright, alright."
"I agree to let you go."
He could only helplessly cradle the magnolia in his palm, using his power to help it divide—each petal carried a trace of his original spiritual power.
The petals drifted, fluttering towards the place where Li Ye had scattered the branches of Jianmu before.
During this process, Li Ye was still contemplating.
How to choose suitable "people."
It’s just like in many stories, where Immortal gods would set trials, and only those who pass can obtain treasures, can receive the rewards of the Immortal gods.
It’s not that the Immortal gods truly have a mischievous nature.
But such selection is largely about finding those who have the destiny and "luck" to endure tribulations and hardships.
Li Ye was no exception.
He couldn’t just randomly bestow the treasures.
Otherwise, even if they survived the tribulations by chance, it would breed a mindset of getting something for nothing. He had a lot to consider, a lot to think about.
Because he had to interfere with the tribulation.
He couldn’t allow another tribulation to descend after the current one was passed.
Also.
According to some sect texts, "Man shall triumph over heaven" is not just talk, if one could use "fate" to resist tribulations.
It should be feasible.
Thinking this, Li Ye kept moving, quickly "molding" a very interesting object.
He looked at the "object" he had molded.
A hesitant expression on his face.
Though this object was good, it essentially transferred a part of the Tribulation Qi to the "people," but without this ability to transfer, it wouldn’t so easily enter various worlds.
Which means.
The person carrying this object would definitely be injured or even die.
This is the price of interfering with another’s fate with one’s life—even if Li Ye bore most of it, there was no way to avoid it.
"...Never mind."
"See if there’s anyone willing."
"Wanting power requires some sacrifice."
He shook his head.
Moreover, frankly speaking, he wasn’t entirely unable to "retrieve" those people. Although their bodies might be destroyed, they could still become Mountain Gods or land.
He looked at the object in his hand and tossed it towards a random world.
Along with it, he cast his gaze—
In a certain world.
It should have been harvest time.
After a whole spring of sowing, a whole summer of carrying water and irrigation, a full six months of expectation—by rights, one should see waves of golden wheat, the dazzling gold would symbolize hope in life.
The firewood to get through the long winters.
Yet.
At this moment.
The fields were cracked and dry.
The few wheat stalks within drooped, heads bowed to the ground, ears withered, just like the people watching them from afar, spines bent, bellies nearly sunken in, touching the dusty earth.
"There’s no food left..."
"How do we survive?"
"How do we survive!"
The people seemed unable to even cry.
Because crying takes strength.
Crying requires water to drink.
They could no longer find enough water sources—the few sources they had were used to save the wheat, yet it still died.
They couldn’t find food to get through the long winter, and now even the sun in the sky seemed weak and lackluster.
So much so that tears couldn’t come out.
At this moment.
A young girl dressed in ragged clothes boldly spoke:
"Village Chief Grandpa!"
"The tree on the back mountain..."
"Let’s go beg the Immortal!"
The little girl seemed to be only about six or seven years old, but she spoke with clear articulation, her eyes shining with firm determination.
Her clothes, though tattered, were not very dirty. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚
Clearly, they were damaged from repeated washings.
"Beg the Immortal?" The village chief was also very old; he could no longer stand straight, his scholar’s robe faded and dark, but his eyes still held the wisdom honed by hardships.
Many around were waiting for his decision.
"..."
He pondered for a long time.
And then simply said, "What do we have to offer the Immortal? What can we present to the Immortal? If praying to gods and Buddha really worked, those rich landlords would have occupied all the temples long ago.
We can’t even find the door."
Upon hearing this, many people’s eyes dimmed.
Yes.
They couldn’t even afford offerings now.
How could they beg the Immortal?
The little girl bit her lip: "I once heard a storyteller say that sacrifices would suffice. My parents are dead, so offer me to the Immortal.
I... I’ve washed myself as clean as I can."
Her body trembled slightly.
But the village chief still shook his head.
He even straightened up, scanned the surroundings.
Suppressing all eager eyes, he spoke in a deep voice:
"Gather the wheat."
"Return to the village, I’ll distribute it. I can ensure you won’t starve, but I can’t guarantee you’ll be full."
The village chief’s words still held weight.
The people responded in unison, then carefully gathered whatever little edible wheat was left, not daring to miss a single grain.
Children and the elderly all joined in.
Yet there was one small figure missing, along with the village chief.
At the back mountain.
The little girl traversed the cracked and dry land with difficulty, making her way through the now dead, thorn-like small woods.
The giant tree looming in the distance, seeming to cover the sky, was clearly visible.
She endured the pain.
Just as she was about to squeeze through a small gap.
