ThockyKeyboard

Short summary:
Nine cultivators, an Immortal, the happiest baby in the world, a welcome tag along, a Devil Venerable, a not-so-little ghost, and a sleepy boy's journey to find home.

Long summary:
The story of reaching the heavens, being crowned as the Heavenly Emperor at the end of the journey couldn't possibly consist of only: enter a Sect, take a lotus position, power up, battled overpowered opponents, defeated, saved by some beauty/ancestor/hidden immortal, ate pills, enter closed door cultivation, break through, fight over powered opponents once more, won the fight, rinse and repeat… they couldn't live just like that for years until they touched the heavens right? 

What do they do in their free time? What do they do when they're bored? What do they do once they reach the pinnacle of cultivation? Do they eat chicken nuggets? 

Once when they were a group of nameless noobodies they all agreed that the obvious next step they should take was to build a sect of their own. But now that they reached the summit, and were in the process of creating their dream sect, their to-do list seemed to be filled with the following tasks: Figure out how a certain immortal could kill *cough* co-parent peacefully with his child's other parent. Cover an entire realm with grass. Yes, the "grass", those green common stuff on the ground. Build a red light district. Rebuild an entire village… 

Weren't they planning to build a sect?!

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Updates everyday unless I'm sick

I also want to point out that this story is more on the slice of life department, its objective is to explore what cultivators do apart from reaching Immortal-hood. It's like playing a game but you got caught doing the side quests. So the pacing and plot progression might be slow… maybe. Take my words as a grain of salt. Especially the tags.

English is not my first language, keep this in mind.

A Slice of Cultivator's Life

The two boys and one baby stood by the edge of the captivated audience. The storyteller began the tale, and so the story went…

Admits the piling snow, the flurry of whiteness, when the winter was coldest. Three travellers were going against the wicked winds. No one knew why these three travellers dared to risk it all and come to a faraway cold land.

Two travellers, barely passing their twentieth winter, huffed, groaned, and complained. They had no clue what the man leading them had in mind. Each time they asked, the oldest of them, the leader said, 'you will know soon'.

The two young ones were on the edge of their patience. Their stomachs were empty, howling like the sound of the wind surrounding them. 'Twas then, when the youngest of the two fell to the snowy ground, they saw a shadowy shape lit with lights. It was a village.

Chapter 65