Cultivation of Immortals Begins with Drilling Wood To Make Fire

Sitting on the roof, Fang Chang saw a rabbit bumping into a tree stump, but he thought of something else in his mind.

It doesn't even have anything to do with this rabbit hitting a tree stump.

Mainly, the moment the little rabbit hit the tree stump, Fang Chang figured out something about the path of cultivation, especially things like "chance".

According to the general understanding, the word chance is both mysterious and mysterious, like a shooting star passing by the sky, or like the shadow of a white horse flashing past through the gap in the door.

If you catch it in your hand, it is your own; if you miss it, it has nothing to do with you.

Since it is a shooting star, since it is an unknown horse shadow in the door gap, there is no reason at all. It can fly over from any angle and run over at any time.

And different opportunities bring completely different perceptions.

But just now Fang Chang suddenly thought that the matter of chance is not exactly the case, at least for himself, it does not belong to the "general understanding".

Opportunity is something that belongs to oneself and is one's own, and it cannot be escaped.

An imperceptible chance, or a chance? Only what is perceived is an opportunity, and how can an opportunity that can be perceived slip away? At least Fang Chang has never encountered or heard of this matter in the various classics he has seen on the road of cultivation he has traveled.

After figuring this out, Fang Chang felt quite enlightened.

As a result, his cultivation has also improved a lot, perhaps because his state of mind at this moment is quite in line with the natural way he holds.

At Fang Chang's level, practicing is cultivating one's mind.

The accumulation of mana has little effect on practice. Only the improvement of Dao Xin can make practitioners go further on the road of practice.

In other words, only the corresponding level of Dao Xin can bear the corresponding level of inspiration.

If a mortal has the magic power of Fang Chang, or has such a long lifespan as Fang Chang, it is a kind of torture and punishment.

Without a corresponding state of mind, it is like a child riding a thousand-mile horse. It is extremely dangerous and can only bring fright.

At this moment, Fang Chang was full of thoughts.

So the rabbit not far away failed to be redeemed before hitting the tree stump.

But after hitting a tree stump and dying, he was saved by Fang Chang with a new technique that he could comprehend at a new level of cultivation.

It's also a blessing in disguise, how can I know it's not a blessing.

Fang Chang turned over and jumped off the wooden roof, and began to pack his things.

All the things of the house itself, Fang Chang left, such as the nails used to build the wooden house, such as the glass on the windows.

Even Fang Chang left some food in the house and a clay pot by the firepit.

Maybe some people will get lost or wander here in the future, and they can still live on this little material. Vaguely, Fang Chang felt that this matter would definitely happen, so he left these things in advance.

He extinguished the firepit in the house, and installed all kinds of daily utensils in the house, whether it was tables and chairs, cabinet frames, stools and beds. Then he closed the door, fastened it with a branch, and turned away from the sparse forest in the snow-covered mountains.

Fang Chang's heart moved slightly, and the clouds rose from his feet.

The sudden appearance of pure white clouds was the same color as the snow, and the clouds surrounded Fang Chang's feet, refracting colorful edges in the sunlight.

He recognized the direction of true north and flew straight there.

This time, his speed of driving the clouds has been greatly improved, surpassing all the chariots and horses in the world.

When the howling wind blows to the cloud, it will subconsciously avoid the cloud, making the inside very quiet. The mountains under the feet are endless, and the trees are sparsely spread on the snow, like fine brushstrokes on white paper.

The sight was magnificent.

Further north, the sun dips lower and lower, and the shadows of trees are drawn longer. Finally, the trees became less and less, and finally disappeared.

Below the clouds, there is only a vast wasteland left.

Or rather, the tundra in winter.

The scene here is more lonely, but the colors are much richer than the forest, sea and snowfields in winter. On the rocks outcropping the ground, large areas of low plants such as grass, moss, and lichen are laid like mats, showing dull but colorful colors.

This is a scenery that you can never see in the Central Plains.

However, Fang Chang thought to himself, those monsters put the training hall so far north, how do they work? There are few people here, and the place is vast. For those who intend to trouble the monsters in the Xuanwu Training Hall, it is indeed not a small obstacle.

Fang Changfei flies very high, so he can see very far.

There is a wind belt in the distance, the wind there has a speed that is difficult to match elsewhere, and it looks so cold that Fang Chang can clearly see the movement of the wind with his eyesight.

He lowered his head and realized that something was wrong, then pushed down the cloud head and returned to the ground.

On the snow slope, there were two figures lying there.

They all had severe wounds on their heads, and bloodstains were splattered, which were very conspicuous on the ground.

One of the blue-clothed figures was a middle-aged man with a horned beard and a wide-sleeved robe that was not thickly worn. Fang Chang judged that this person should be a practitioner, otherwise it would be unreasonable for him to be able to move in this icy and snowy world with so little clothes on.

The other figure in green looks like a teenager, but Fang Chang found that there is still a monster in his wound, as if his body is still trying to repair the injury. So this figure should be a monster.

Just don't know, who are they?

And who knocked them all down here with such a heavy hand?

The attack was really heavy, some brains and blood even oozed out from the heads of the two of them, sticking to their hair. If Fang Chang ignored it, it would probably take at most half an hour for them to die here with their weak breath.

Regarding these two questions, Fang Chang, who came here to look for the monsters in the Xuanwu training hall, couldn't help but have a reasonable association.

So he decided to save the two and ask what happened.

Fang Chang stretched out his hand to stop the injuries on their heads from worsening, and then picked up the two of them, found a leeward place, took out the bamboo bed, and put them on it to slow down the loss of their body temperature under the cold wind.

Since they are not mortals, Fang Chang does not have the ability to heal them instantly.

Looking at the sky, Fang Chang could feel that a snowstorm was coming soon. Seeing the two wounds on the bamboo bed next to him, he thought about it and decided to build a shelter first.

There is no firewood and no useful bamboo in this icy and snowy land. Under the snow layer, there is mostly thick frozen soil, and even gravel is rare. However, on this wasteland, there are also things suitable for use as building materials, and that is the thick ice and snow on the ground itself.

The hard snow is cut into large pieces, piled up like bricks, made into an arch like an arch bridge, and finally closed on the top, which is a snow house. Such igloos can resist the cold wind outside extremely well and maintain a suitable temperature inside.

It's excruciatingly cold outside, so it won't melt from the outside.

And inside, you can even light a fire.

Thank you for the big black and purple eggplant.