Chapter 17: Start Over from Zero

Chen An's Spiritual Sea shattered completely. A sharp, piercing pain followed, making him frown slightly. Fortunately, he had long developed resistance to this kind of pain—it wasn't enough to make him writhe on the ground or scream in agony.

His decision was simple. Since the Spiritual Sea was already broken and beyond repair, he might as well crush it entirely. At worst, he'd lose all his cultivation and start again from nothing.

But Chen An didn't feel the slightest sorrow. While he may not have been especially gifted in other areas, he had absolute confidence in his cultivation talent. 

In his ninth life, it had taken him only three days to sever his ties to the mundane world and enter the Qi Refinement stage. In thirty days, he built his Foundation. In three months, he formed his Core.

For him, breaking through realms was as easy as eating or drinking. The bottlenecks that plagued ordinary cultivators didn't exist for him. 

His body constantly absorbed the spiritual energy of heaven and earth—even eating and sleeping counted as cultivation. To spiritual energy, his body was like an irresistible pastry, drawing in everything around it.

That's why he always said, "Cultivation was never meant to be difficult."

He simply waited for the energy to gather to a certain point, then naturally broke through. Everything was as easy as it should be. 

Other cultivators worked tirelessly, defying heaven, cultivating day and night in pursuit of the Dao, never daring to slack. But Chen An was different. To him, cultivation meant eating well, drinking plenty, and just letting things flow.

The mustard-yellow minibus eventually rumbled its way into the small town and came to a stop at a traffic light. Chen An turned to the window. Everything outside felt both unfamiliar and familiar.

It was unfamiliar because he had lived nine lifetimes and now returned as a youth, making things feel a bit distant. 

But it was familiar because this small town was an unerasable part of his memories. The pothole-ridden roads, the desolate streets—he remembered them clearly.

He couldn't recall much about Qing City, but he remembered this town. Like the traffic light ahead—go a few hundred meters past it, and you'd see the old iron gate of the orphanage. There was also a small tobacco and grocery shop nearby, one that had stood unchanged while other stores came and went.

And in front of that shop, an old lady would set up a street stall every afternoon around three. It made sense—there was an elementary school across the street that let out around four. Her cart sold things children liked: hot dogs, scallion pancakes, and so on.

But Chen An's favorite had always been the cold noodles she made by hand—chewy, flavorful, and seasoned just the way he liked.

As his mind wandered, he realized this town hadn't changed. It had remained untouched by the fast-paced development of modern society. After all, it was just a small town beneath an already small city. Aside from a few children left behind by migrating parents, it was rare to see young people here.

Just then, a loud voice came from the front of the bus. Chen An looked up and saw the driver, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding a phone to his ear. He was spitting with irritation as he argued.

"I know, I know! You're calling again? You don't get tired?"

"You want the soy sauce, right? How many times are you gonna nag me over that?"

"Alright, enough, I'm almost off work. Talk to you at home—"

Clearly, his wife was rushing him home. Life in this small town might be slow and the pay low, but at least there was no overtime.

The light turned green. The minibus lurched and slowly rolled forward. When it neared the orphanage, Chen An called out to get off. That was how buses worked here—no designated stops, just get off when you need.

He stepped off, glancing at the sky. Dusk was settling in, and everything around was quiet. Only the little convenience store next to the orphanage still had its lights on.

Chen An walked over.

The shop owner was a scruffy-looking man with a full beard. Rumor had it he once made a fortune in a big city—at one point earning over a million yuan a month. But the good times didn't last. The following year, his obsession with stock trading left him broke. 

He used to joke: "When others get scared, I buy more. When others lose a little, I go bankrupt."

After that, he never recovered. His once-loving wife left three months later. But he never spoke ill of her. He simply packed up and came back to the town that had raised him. Borrowing money from old friends, he opened this little grocery shop.

Now he spent his days running the store, watching sports, and sipping cheap liquor—a typical story for countless middle-aged men who had fallen from grace.

His name was Wang Liang, and the sign above his store read "Wang Liang's Grocery."

He was lying in a rocking chair with his hands behind his head, watching TV with half-closed eyes. When he heard footsteps, he looked up and immediately got up when he saw Chen An.

"Well, well! If it isn't the pride of our town. Why so quiet about coming back?"

Chen An smiled. "Uncle Wang, I'm back."

Wang Liang grinned, instinctively reaching into his pocket before remembering that Chen An didn't smoke. He pulled his hand back awkwardly.

"Good to have you back, really good."

He patted a shelf and sighed. "So many kids from the orphanage went out into the world, but you're the one who keeps coming back."

"Maybe the big city's too busy for them," he added, glancing at Chen An. "What, think your Uncle Wang doesn't know city life?"

He was about to start bragging about his glory days again, but seeing the calm look on Chen An's face, he just chuckled and let it go.

"Busy, huh? How busy can you really be? People just get used to city life and don't want to come back."

"You saying that means once you go to college and graduate, you'll be 'too busy' too?"

Chen An shook his head. "I'm not too busy. I'll come back often—if not for me, then for them."

Wang Liang snorted. "Alright, enough small talk. What do you need? I'll get it for you."

Chen An glanced at the shelf—mostly snacks for kids, spicy sticks, chips, and some basic household goods like oil and soy sauce.

He pointed at the snacks. "A bit of everything."

These cheap little treats were favorites at the orphanage. When Chen An was a kid, he loved them too. Years had passed, he'd grown up, but the snacks hadn't changed. Even the prices stayed the same.