Starting Out with an Immortal Cultivation Simulator
Transmigrating into the body of an ordinary rogue cultivator, Lin Ze obtained an Immortal Cultivation Simulator. He could recreate this vast land as the game map, extract the aptitude and talents of disciples to generate templates, and combine cultivation techniques and skill cards to form game characters. Then, he would simulate a thousand years into the future! His disciples would ascend to become powerful Nascent Soul experts, gaining continuous fortunes and opportunities along the way. When their trust in him reached its peak, Lin Ze could replicate their good fortune for himself! Remaining at home, treasures would come to him as if falling from the sky. As for venturing out to explore ancient ruins—such things were impossible; only playing games at home could maintain the appearance of cultivation. Lin Ze: “By the way, I rarely accept disciples, except for those who’ve been rejected from marriage or orphans from certain places.”
Starting Out with an Immortal Cultivation Simulator
As the first rays of morning sunlight crept over the horizon, a thin plume of cooking smoke rose from the little village nestled amid the encircling mountains.
Inside a shabby thatched cottage, Lin Ze sat on a wooden chair, gazing at the busy crowd outside preparing food, a faint sense of nostalgia flickering in his eyes.
They were making ready for a birthday feast.
It was Old Lin’s sixtieth birthday.
The reason why everyone else was bustling outside while Lin Ze could leisurely sit here was simple—he was the birthday celebrant today.
“If my father knew I was throwing a birthday banquet before he ever did, I wonder what expression he’d have.”
Lin Ze chuckled wryly and slowly closed his eyes.
“Keep moving, all of you!” the village chief shouted, his voice echoing through the air. Today was Old Lin’s birthday, and the village had decided to honor him with a grand banquet. The tables were cobbled together by the villagers; atop them lay the best dishes each household could muster.
Times were hard, meat was precious; ordinary folk might not slaughter a chicken for half a year, but today everyone was astonishingly generous.
A basin full of pork head meat thudded onto a table; several fat, glistening pork knuckles were set in the center, flanked by plates of roast chicken and goose. A clay jar, freshly unsealed, released a heady aroma of wine that nearly carried beyond the village.
The village chief, beaming, eyed the thatched cottage and turned to glare at his grandchildren, signaling the little rascals to stand up s
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