林风 characterized by a tired sigh and rubbing his sore neck, slumped over his desk. "I'll update it as soon as possible!" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the monitor.

The office was already quiet, most of the colleagues had left for the day. The only sound was the hum of the computer and the occasional click of the keyboard. Lin Feng felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He had been working overtime for weeks, and his body was starting to give out.

He decided to take a short break and grab some coffee from the break room. As he walked past the break room, he noticed a group of people gathered around a table, talking excitedly. He overheard them mentioning something about a "cultivation competition" and "immortal arts."

Curious, Lin Feng drifted closer to the table. The people were all wearing robes, and they looked like they were in a trance. The leader, a middle-aged man with a long beard, was describing the principles of cultivation in a deep, resonant voice.