According to the “Record of Strange Objects”: The Enlightenment Fruit only bears fruit once every ten thousand years, shrouded in a mysterious mist for protection.
Its appearance changes with its surroundings, and it must be picked with a special tool.
If it touches the ground, it rots; if it touches a person, it merges with them.
It is said that those who obtain this fruit will hear the voice of the Dao, giving rise to enlightenment in their hearts, and their spiritual sea will be seeded with vitality, awaiting the nature of the ancient tree—this is the moment of true ascension on the path to immortality.
At Jingdao Sect, every child’s textbook includes the “Record of Strange Objects.” Compared to other dry and difficult books, this one is much more interesting.
This book contains most of the known rare treasures in the cultivation world.
Among the last few pages, which record legendary treasures whose existence is often doubted, there is one called the “Enlightenment Fruit.”
Legend has it that this fruit was formed from a wisp of Dao resonance left behind by the Dao Ancestor during enlightenment.
The phrase in the book, “hearing the voice of the Dao,” means receiving the Dao Ancestor’s guidance.
Everyone says that if you’re lucky enough to get the Enlightenment Fruit, you’ll never have to worry about your Dao heart lagging behind your cultivation again.
Cultivation can be accumulated slowly, but if your state of mind can’t break through, no one can help you.
It’s easy to imagine that if news of the Enlightenment Fruit’s appearance got out, the world would be thrown into chaos and bloodshed.
Even cultivators at the Tribulation Crossing stage wouldn’t dare claim their Dao heart is flawless enough to ascend in one leap.
If Wen Jiayin discovered such a treasure first, she’d definitely find a way to keep it safe.
After all, this would be the only gift in all these years she could give her Master that was truly worthy.
If this Enlightenment Fruit could guarantee an unshakable Dao heart, wouldn’t that solve her Master’s only hidden worry? Wen Jiayin didn’t really know the fruit’s exact effects.
She was a laid-back person with no great ambitions, not obsessed with immortality or eternal life.
This kind of treasure was perfect for her Master! Being able to see her Master ascend peacefully was probably Wen Jiayin’s only real obsession.
But fate didn’t give her that chance.
According to the “Record of Strange Objects,” the Enlightenment Fruit rots if it touches the ground and merges with the first person it touches—she never even had a chance to refuse.
Wen Jiayin never expected to stumble upon a legendary treasure just by wandering around, but the next second, she was forcibly pulled into her own sea of consciousness.
It was a magical lake; every step she took sent ripples across the surface.
Faint stars dotted the sky above, and only in the very center of the lake floated a wisp of flame.
Everyone’s sea of consciousness was different—this was Wen Jiayin’s: beautiful and empty, always making her feel a little lonely.
Wen Jiayin knew every inch of this place, so when a seed suddenly appeared next to the divine fire, she stared in shock for a long time.
That wasn’t there before, was it? Could it be that fruit?!
“Boom!” Wen Jiayin jumped at the sudden crash of thunder.
What the hell? Why was there thunder in her sea of consciousness? She wasn’t even a lightning-root cultivator! Wen Jiayin looked up and saw clouds churning above, blocking out the faint starlight.
An indescribable pressure pressed down from the sky, making it hard for her to breathe.
The seed, originally transparent but now glowing a brilliant red, shot up into the clouds.
The pitch-black sky instantly turned into a dazzling sunset.
“Why do you cultivate immortality?” An ethereal voice, as if echoing through eternity, questioned Wen Jiayin.
If it had been anyone else, Wen Jiayin’s rebellious streak might have made her refuse to answer.
But this voice seemed to pierce straight through her thoughts, forcing her to search her long memory for an answer.
Her past flashed before her eyes like a lantern show.
Even memories she should have forgotten from her previous life—like wetting the bed as a baby—were dragged out now.
Wen Jiayin: “…” I want to sue this thing for invading my privacy.
“Why do you cultivate immortality?” It asked again.
Wen Jiayin clutched her head.
Too many memories were being dragged up, making her head ache and swell.
Forgetting really is a blessing for humans; too many memories are just a burden.
Why cultivate immortality? That question really stumped Wen Jiayin.
Some people do it for power, some for eternal life, some to prove themselves… But Wen Jiayin had always been a slacker, even in her last life.
Eternal life? She’d rather eat, drink, and wait to die.
Her path to cultivation in this life felt like a coincidence, or maybe just fate pushing her along.
If she had to give a reason, it was really hard.
Maybe sensing her confusion, the presence in the sky forced Wen Jiayin to watch her own memories.
From a very young age, her birth hadn’t made her parents happy.
She had an older sister, who, as the first child, got all their parents’ love.
Later, her parents wanted a son to complete the family, so they tried again, but the second child was another girl—her.
Disappointed, they had a third child, finally a boy.
With three kids, her parents were under a lot of pressure.
Her mother felt she couldn’t handle all three, so after discussing it, they decided to send one to be raised by the grandparents.
They couldn’t bear to part with the eldest or the youngest, so the middle child—Wen Jiayin—became the one who did the most chores, got scolded the most, and was the least noticed.
People are naturally biased.
Parents with three kids can hardly treat them all equally.
Luckily, Wen Jiayin was cheerful by nature.
She didn’t grow up twisted by this environment; in fact, she became the most worry-free of the three siblings.
The most rebellious thing she ever did was tell her parents she’d never get married.
After realizing her own orientation, she knew she’d never marry a man, but coming out would probably send her parents straight to the ER, so she settled for just saying she wouldn’t marry.
Even so, her old-fashioned father and traditional mother couldn’t accept it.
After a big fight, Wen Jiayin moved out and rarely went home for holidays, right up until her accidental death.
Looking back on her uneventful past life, Wen Jiayin’s heart barely stirred.
Maybe her family ties were weak, or maybe she wasn’t as indifferent as she thought.
Her parents’ unfairness still left her with resentment.
When everything turned to dust, her longing for family and her resentment tangled together, finally turning into a miraculous sense of release.
She had no obsession with returning to her past life.
Anywhere was fine—that was Wen Jiayin’s slacker attitude.
So if she had to find a reason for seeking immortality from her past life, there really wasn’t one.
If she had to pick a reason… Wen Jiayin watched her memories from this life play out before her eyes.
At first, she wanted to cultivate for self-protection and to avenge that kind, respectable old man.
But once her enemy died, she lost her original motivation.
Later… it was her Master’s gentle embrace, her Master’s soft guidance, her Master’s careful protection, her Master’s special treatment… Every time her Master said, “Jiayin, don’t be afraid.
I’m here.”
Wen Jiayin thought, if anything could make her pursue power and walk the path of immortality, it would be to help her Master escape her fate.
Her Master should never be dragged through the mud by trash! If anyone was good to her, Wen Jiayin would repay them double—let alone her Master’s wholehearted care, something she’d never even gotten from her parents.
It once made her feel anxious, not knowing how to repay it.
Thinking back, hadn’t her standard for getting stronger always been to catch up to that trash male lead? Didn’t that mean her motivation for cultivation was to protect her Master? Even if it sounded arrogant given her current strength, that was her true answer.
“To protect,” the presence seemed to see through Wen Jiayin’s thoughts and spoke.
“To protect all beings is the great Dao; to protect one person is the small Dao.
The small Dao is easily broken—why not change it?”
“Old man, I’m just an ordinary person.
I don’t have lofty ideals or ambitions.
I can’t shoulder the fate of all beings.
Great Dao, small Dao—I just want to make sure her path to immortality is smooth.
That’s my reason for cultivating!” As Wen Jiayin finished speaking, the seed floating in the air fell like a little fireball onto the lake.
The dazzling light made Wen Jiayin squint.
Waves rolled across the lake of her heart, and a tender sapling took root and sprouted.
Its leaves looked like fiery red crystal, especially beautiful.
The moment it grew, Wen Jiayin felt something in her heart become unshakably firm.
“Though it is a small Dao, its purity and determination can make up for it.
The great Dao is within reach.
If you ever feel lost, ask your Dao heart.”
“Your Dao does not seek perfection, only no regrets.”
“Remember, remember…” The voice faded away, leaving Wen Jiayin blinking in confusion.
She looked at the little tree, then at her transformed sea of consciousness, and suddenly wondered in disbelief—could that be the legendary Enlightenment Fruit? Was this sapling her Dao heart?
