I fabricated myths to guide the revival of spiritual energy.

New Chang'an City, Xiacheng District, Shizijie Intersection.

The flashing holographic neon signs along the street reflected the post-rain puddles in a bizarre and surreal way, playing a loop of glaringly offensive lyrics: "Third Army Corps Retired Veterans Direct Operation: Refurbished Second-hand Xuanwu Armor Plates, Only Ninety-Nine Mid-Grade Spirit Stones!"

Gu Qing concealed all his aura and changed out of the white robe he had worn for a hundred years into an ordinary gray windproof coat. He walked through the crowded throng, surrounded by hurried cultivators and mortals in coarse work clothes, and no one gave him a second glance.

"Sizzle—"

At a roadside cart stall, hot oil was violently sizzling on a hot plate.

"Boss, a pancake, two eggs, and lots of chili sauce, please." Gu Qing stopped in front of the cart, looking at the steam rising from the griddle, and said.

"Alright! Please scan the spirit-gathering array plate here to pay."

The vendor, wearing a dirty apron, skillfully spread batter on the scorching hot griddle with an iron spatula, all the while complaining animatedly, "But brother, adding an egg today will cost half a low-grade spirit stone. I heard the G30 high-speed train is delayed, and the spirit-feathered chickens from outside the city can't be transported in. The egg price has skyrocketed, it's like the bounty on a rogue cultivator's head!"

With a flick of his wrist, the shopkeeper cracked open two eggs whose surfaces were covered with faint spiritual patterns. The iron spatula clanged against the iron plate, producing a very lively and everyday sound.

Looking at the fine beads of sweat on the boss's forehead and listening to the vulgar yet vivid complaints, Gu Qing's lips, which had been stiff for a hundred years, softened almost imperceptibly.

This is the vibrant human world that he painstakingly preserved.

"It's wrapped up for you, be careful, it's hot!" The shopkeeper wrapped the steaming hot pancake in greaseproof paper and handed it over.

Gu Qing reached out and took it.

He stood on the bustling street, took a deep breath, then opened his mouth and took a big bite.

He closed his eyes, trying to capture that long-lost aroma of home cooking: the smoky fragrance of scallions, the fresh scent of eggs, and the slight spiciness of chili peppers on his tongue. Having not eaten for a hundred years, he had hoped that this pancake would bring back the satisfaction he felt when he was a sickly man, squatting on the street eating hot food.

However, there was no taste in my mouth.

The chewing motion is still present, but the taste buds are like completely dead electronic components, sending no chemical signals to the brain.

It has no aroma, no spiciness, and no saltiness.

"Buzz..."

Deep within his consciousness, a stream of pale golden data silently slid across the surface, and a cold notification sounded in his mind:

[Intake analysis: 45% carbohydrates, a mixture of lower fats. Provides no energy gain to the body.]

[This is deemed an ineffective eating behavior. It was purely emotional. To maintain an absolutely rational model, irrelevant sensory feedback has been blocked.]

Gu Qing abruptly stopped chewing.

He looked down at the pancake in his hand, which had been bitten open. The golden egg and bright red chili sauce were still steaming enticingly hot, but on his tongue, all that remained was a dry, sandy taste, devoid of any flavor of human warmth.

He was even quietly deprived of the right to taste the food by the system in the name of "maintaining rationality".

"Hey bro, what are you spacing out for? Is it not good?" The owner was wiping the hot plate with a rag when he saw Gu Qing standing there in a daze, so he raised his voice and asked.

"...No. It's fine."

Gu Qing rewrapped the remaining pancakes and turned to walk towards the street corner.

"Bang."

A middle-aged man in a tattered Taoist robe, reeking of alcohol, stumbled out of the alley and bumped heavily into Gu Qing's shoulder. The man clutched a yellowed medicine bottle tightly in his hand, his eyes bloodshot, like a gambler who had lost everything.

"Get out of my way! Don't block my path!" the man roared like a mad dog, scrambling towards the black market pharmacy across the street. "Boss! I'll give you my spiritual root as collateral! And give me a life-saving Blood Pill! My daughter can't die... she's only six years old!"

The man's heart-wrenching cries drew the attention of passersby, some shaking their heads and sighing, others looking on with indifference.

Gu Qing stood still, her gaze fixed on the man's staggering back.

If it were before, when Gu Qing had not yet become the "Dao Master," seeing such a human tragedy would most likely have felt a pang of compassion, and might even have casually sent out a wisp of spiritual energy to save the person.

But at this moment, Gu Qing placed her hand on her left chest.

His heartbeat was frighteningly steady. Like a precision machine set to its exact speed, without the slightest erratic movement.

Looking at the man who was crying so hard he was on the verge of collapse, Gu Qing felt no sympathy or pity.

Instead, there was an extremely cold, objective analysis that was beyond his control:

[The target is 45 years old, at the third level of Qi Refining, with her foundation destroyed. Her daughter's survival rate is less than 0.01%. Treating her would be a waste of resources. The natural order governs life; birth, aging, sickness, and death are predetermined. Interference would lead to redundancy in the causal chain.]

"Shut up."

Gu Qing let out an extremely low roar in his mind, forcibly severing the system's calculating logic.

He walked to the puddle on the street corner and lowered his head.

The neon lights cast colorful ribbons on the water's surface, which rippled slightly, reflecting his image.

Gu Qing's breathing stopped.

The reflection in the puddle wasn't of a young man in a gray trench coat at all.

It was a humanoid silhouette without features, woven from countless pure white array patterns and pale gold data streams. It stood silently in the water, exuding a chilling stillness and divinity.

This is his true "essence".

A shell, its flesh and emotions gradually hollowed out by the system, is transforming into a "rule container" devoid of self-awareness.

"Do you think that by blocking my sense of taste and draining my compassion, you can completely control my behavior?"

Gu Qing stared at the eerie golden reflection in the puddle, and deep in his eyes, the wildness and violence of humanity instantly broke through the suppression of the laws.

"Snapped!"

Gu Qing lifted his foot and stomped into the puddle with extreme force, crushing the reflection of the lofty god into dust, splashing mud and water onto the hem of his gray trench coat.

Instead of throwing the tasteless pancake in his hand into the trash can, he swallowed it in two bites, even though it tasted like chewing ashes.

"All my actions stem from my own will. Even eating a mouthful of tasteless porridge is my own choice."

Gu Qing pulled her hands out of her trench coat pockets, stopped looking at the crowd on the street, and turned to walk into the deepest darkness of New Chang'an City.

To survive and avoid becoming a mindless zombie controlled by the system, he must dig out a bottom line that only he can control in a hidden corner.