In the dream, countless universes and infinite dimensions coexisted.

　　In the world of martial arts, there was a Daoist who forged swords for kings, dominated the world for sixty years, his name passed down for three thousand years, unmatched and peerless, the greatest of all time, the supreme grandmaster.

　　In the world of gods and ghosts, a hundred ghosts roamed by day, a Daoist lingered in the world, undying. He questioned ghosts and gods, then questioned the heavens, waged war against the sky, conferred gods upon the world, and became the patriarch of all deities.

　　In the world of myriad suns, gods and demons roared across heaven and earth, great monsters ruled the stars, reigned supreme for an era, dazzling as the blazing sun. For billions of years, myriad suns shone together, and a Daoist ascended to the absolute peak, like a river spanning eternity, suppressing all suns above.

　　The Realm of the Emperor of Heaven, the Wild Desolation Realm, the Great Shaman Realm, the Primordial Sun Realm, the Great Dragon Realm...

　　Battling Demon Lords, contending with the Emperor of Heaven, quelling chaos, shaking the divine court, pacifying the wilds, testing hands with shamans, playing chess with the Heavenly Emperor...

　　After traversing all heavens and walking through myriad worlds, Brian Smith suddenly realized that all paths and all gods were already within three inches of his palm.

Volume One: The Disappeared Goddess Statue

Prologue: There is no road ahead, and spiritual energy will not revive!

Chapter One: Brian Smith

　　The heavy snow howled, the cold wind cut like a knife.

　　On a midwinter day, all things lay dormant, the world bleak and desolate, all vitality returning to the earth.

　　Tianlian Mountain, a branch of the Taihang mountain range, was utterly ordinary and unremarkable.

　　On Tianlian Mountain stood a Daoist temple, long neglected and in disrepair, its walls mottled, the red paint peeling from the main gate—a clear sign that incense and worship were scarce here.

　　Occasionally, someone from nearby would come, burn two sticks of incense, seeking a little peace of mind.

　　But that was all. In these times, true faith had long since vanished.

　　Pa-da!

　　Brian Smith got up to close the window that had been blown open by the wind.

　　The temple was so old that even with the window shut, the wind still seeped in through the cracks.

　　He couldn't help but pull his thick down jacket tighter around himself.

　　He was tall and slender, but his frame was frail, and his delicate face bore an unhealthy pallor.

　　"This temple really needs some repairs."

　　Brian Smith said to an old Daoist sitting cross-legged on the bed.

　　The old Daoist wore a robe faded from many washings, with thick cotton clothes underneath, and a basin of glowing red charcoal in front of him.

　　The old Daoist's secular surname was Li, his Daoist name Gavin Brooks, the abbot of this temple, seventy-six years old this year, and his medical skills were somewhat renowned in Daxuan.

　　"In past years, the wind and snow were never this fierce."

　　The old Daoist's face was ruddy, whether from the wind or the charcoal smoke was unclear.

　　But judging by the slight moisture at the corners of his eyes, it seemed to be the latter.

　　"Master Gavin Brooks taught me the Dormant Dragon Sleeping Pill Technique. Helping you repair the temple is the least I can do."

　　Brian Smith picked up his teacup, gently blew on it, the steam veiling his eyes:

　　"After all, I might not have much time left."

　　"The Dormant Dragon Sleeping Pill Technique is just a minor aid to martial arts practice, no need to be so polite, young friend."

　　The old Daoist wiped the moisture from his eyes caused by the smoke, but felt a pang of regret in his heart.

　　This child was good in every way, except for his short life.

　　"It is said that in ancient times, some lived over eight hundred years and were still like ordinary people... Yet I cannot even hope to reach twenty."

　　Brian Smith took a sip of tea, the bitterness sinking into his heart:

　　"I've read the Daoist Canon thoroughly, dabbled in Buddhist scriptures, practiced various Daoist methods, and learned many Buddhist visualization techniques, yet still cannot halt the loss of my own life...

　　Is there truly no real path of cultivation in this world?"

　　Brian Smith couldn't help but feel lost. Since childhood, he had been different from others, sometimes dreaming of another strange life on a planet eerily similar to Xuanxing.

　　It felt like a dream, yet also like a past life.

　　Because of these memories, he was able to amass a modest fortune at a young age.

　　However, just as he was about to make his mark, he was struck by a terminal illness, beyond the help of any medicine.

　　The taste of this, only he could know.

　　"Is there really any true path of cultivation in this world?"

　　The old Daoist lowered his eyes and sighed as well.

　　He was a Daoist, yes, but not an immortal. If the hospital couldn't save him, his little bit of medical skill certainly couldn't.

　　Alas, if there really were a way to live forever, then throughout history, how many emperors and nobles who sought immortality would not have died of old age in their beds?

　　"Forgive me for making you laugh, Master."

　　After a sigh, Brian Smith regained his composure. He had heard such words too many times in the past two years.

　　If not for his own extraordinary experiences, he wouldn't have believed in any of this.

　　"Between life and death, even I cannot face it calmly—how could I laugh at you, my friend?"

　　The old Daoist poked at the charcoal, speaking solemnly.

　　"Then I won't disturb you further, Master Gavin Brooks."

　　Brian Smith shook his head slightly and got up to take his leave.

　　"The wind and snow are fierce, and your health is not what it once was. Stay at the temple for a day, and wait for the storm to pass before heading down the mountain."

　　The old Daoist rose to urge him to stay.

　　"Thank you for the trouble, Master."

　　Brian Smith did not refuse. Though he had practiced martial arts, and it could strengthen the body, it could not withstand the ravages of illness.

　　His health was indeed much worse than before.

　　Creak...

　　The old Daoist opened the door, and a biting wind swept in.

　　What little warmth there was in the room dropped even further.