Ask for Immortality

Ten-year-old Mo Hua wore the simple robes of an outer sect disciple, listlessly squatting behind a large rock at the foot of the mountain. He held grass roots in his hand and was burying himself in the ground, drawing intricate patterns.,The ink painting lifted its head, revealing a handsome and delicate face like a work of art. Its eyes were clear and bright, as if holding a pool of crystal-clear water.,Only the lowly itinerant cultivators, having no one to rely on, live in poverty and have little hope of attaining enlightenment.。