I am just an ordinary herb-gathering girl at the foot of the mountain. When the female protagonist of the cultivation story runs away in a fit of anger, she casually sets my home on fire.

When I return from gathering herbs, all that’s left is the charred ground; my family has been reduced to ash.

Yet she cried pitifully and throws herself into the arms of her lofty, ethereal immortal lord.

He looked down with a cold expression: “The death of such lowly mortals is trivial; Fu Ling, do not let this disturb your Dao heart.”

I endured in silence, biding my time like a dog who has lost its home.

Later, I astounded the land of Nine Provinces with a single sword strike, and with a cold laugh, I reduced them all to ashes:

“How does it feel to die by the hands of a lowly mortal?”

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