Henry Lang was born into a family of criminals and thought he would never have a chance to rise in this life. Unexpectedly, at the age of eight, a ghost servant who once served the ancestors of the The Lang Family hurried over to pledge loyalty to him...

　　To cultivate the Dao and comprehend the heavens, one must sever all mortal attachments. In the eyes of cultivators, there is only the Dao of Heaven; they are unmoved by external things, untouched by worldly honor or disgrace.

　　But Henry Lang is an exception—he possesses cultivation, but lacks a Dao heart.

　　When he sees his family enjoying happiness, he beams with joy; when he sees his friends angry, he is indignant on their behalf; when a beautiful woman passes by, he can't help but take a deep breath of the lingering fragrance...

　　Because of this mortal heart, Henry Lang is human, and the world of mortals is his happy home.

　　If he must choose between being an "immortal" or a "human," he will, without hesitation, decide: Move mountains!

Chapter One: The Taste of Beef

　　The Dahong Dynasty unified the land for over three hundred years, ruling with strict laws, including the concept of "criminal households."

　　Those guilty of heinous crimes would have their entire clan implicated; their descendants would forever be "criminal households." The women became maids, the men were conscripted for hard labor. Unless they rendered immortal service to the nation, they would never have a chance to rise.

　　From birth, Henry Lang was a criminal household. He was not allowed to eat meat, not allowed to wear new clothes, not allowed to attend school, and certainly not allowed to leave the criminal street designated by the authorities to catch a glimpse of the bustling world.

　　Henry Lang is eight years old this year. When he turns fourteen, he will be assigned by the authorities—either to guard the borders, quarry stone, mine, or clear wasteland... In short, all are deadly, backbreaking tasks. According to Dahong law, if he manages to survive until twenty, he can return for three years, marry a girl from a criminal household, have children, and then be sent back for another six years of labor...

　　Six years of hard labor, three years of rest—such is the cycle of a criminal household's life. But most are not so lucky; few survive more than two or three "six-year" cycles. Henry Lang's father died of exhaustion and illness during his second cycle.

　　Their family has been criminal households for three hundred years. No one even remembers what terrible crime the ancestors of the The Lang Family committed to bring such suffering upon their descendants!

　　Henry Lang now vaguely understands his future fate, but a child's heart cannot bear such a heavy burden. He remains cheerful every day, sitting on the rooftop each night, staring longingly at the night sky. Whenever a shooting star flashes by, he hurriedly makes a wish.

　　His wish went from: "I want to achieve great merit and never be a criminal household with my mother again," gradually simplified to just: "Achieve merit." But shooting stars always flash by without warning, and even this two-word wish is never fulfilled.

　　That night, as usual, Henry Lang sat on the rooftop waiting for a shooting star, when suddenly a faint, thread-like voice came from below: "Child on the roof, is the family under your bottom surnamed Liang?"

　　Henry Lang was startled. Looking down, he saw a short, skinny man standing not far away, looking up at him timidly.

　　This man was about forty, his face full of humility, his body thin and small like a sickly ghost, with a huge coin-shaped birthmark on his face that was especially conspicuous.

　　The sickly ghost seemed very nervous, his eyes darting about, not daring to meet Henry Lang's gaze. Whenever he did glance at him, he quickly looked away. With his sallow, thin face and three scraggly tufts of beard on his chin, he looked both pitiful and comical.

　　Henry Lang was puzzled. He didn't recognize this man; he shouldn't be from the criminal street. But aside from the officials and soldiers, no outsiders ever came here. Nimbly, he slid down from the rooftop. "Yes, we're the Liang family. What do you want with us?"

　　Only then did Henry Lang realize the man was half a head shorter than him.

　　The sickly ghost answered cautiously, "I'm not looking for your family, I'm looking for someone surnamed Liang."

　　Henry Lang couldn't help but giggle. "It's the middle of the night, and I'm sitting on the The Lang Family rooftop stargazing. Of course I'm from the The Lang Family!"

　　The sickly ghost was stunned, blinking for a while before suddenly realizing, "That makes sense!" As he spoke, he suddenly leaned forward, almost pressing his face to Henry Lang's, scrutinizing his features. His worried face showed some hesitation. "Looking closely, you do look a bit like him...!"

　　"Ghost!" Henry Lang felt his hair stand on end, shrieked, and stumbled back a few steps, finally landing on the ground.

　　This man had floated over—his feet weren't touching the ground...

　　The sickly ghost was even more frightened than Henry Lang, his face full of panic, his claw-like hands waving frantically. "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, I won't hurt you, I can't hurt you... Besides, look at your situation, what would I want to do to you?"

　　Henry Lang stared at him and stammered, "Are you really a ghost?"

　　The sickly ghost forced a smile and nodded cautiously. "Don't be scared, my powers are weak, I absolutely can't beat you, can't beat you, and can't hurt you."

　　As he spoke, the sickly ghost flipped his hands, producing an oil-paper package as if by magic, and began to unwrap it with a rustling sound.

　　Henry Lang was suddenly stunned, his eyes fixed on the package in the sickly ghost's hands, full of surprise and greed. "Is that... is that meat?" The oil-paper package wafted an unusually delicious aroma, making his mouth water uncontrollably, and even his stomach began to rumble!