On the Night My Sect Was Wiped Out, All I Could Think About Was the Gossip

Li Xiaofan, a menial disciple at the third level of Qi Refining, witnesses the destruction of the Tianxuan Sect and unexpectedly receives a deluxe gift pack. His sea of consciousness houses the four hundred wronged souls of the sect. Instead of acting as a suicide squad, the ghosts transform into a peanut gallery, exposing the dark secrets of Zhao Quji, leader of the Righteous Alliance: murdering his wife to refine bones, wearing a wig and height-boosting shoes, and more.

At the victory banquet, Li Xiaofan burns his lifespan to activate a secret technique, broadcasting the secrets across the entire cultivation world. The celebration becomes a massive public humiliation. Fleeing into a forbidden ground, he meets Li Changsheng, the first patriarch, a melon-seed-loving deity of gossip who has been locked up there, and awakens a scheming inner demon.

His sea of consciousness becomes a courtyard compound where the wronged souls' commentary, the laid-back patriarch, and the devious inner demon all gather. Xiaofan disguises himself and goes undercover in the enemy camp as a double agent, staging a ruse of suffering and faking his death to outmaneuver and deceive the villains. He rescues Liu Shuangshuang, the younger sister of his enemy, and gets caught up in a string of absurd mishaps: giving someone the wrong laxative, escaping on a pig, and getting his first kiss by face-planting on a cliff.

On the surface, he's a loyal scapegoat. Behind the scenes, he keeps sabotaging the villains. With the commentary in his head, the patriarch's limited cheat ability that only works within three yards, and the inner demon's schemes, he struggles to survive. A blood corpse guard who dances the yangge and a well-informed divine pig lend a hand, kicking off a cultivation revenge story packed with both laughs and danger, and plenty of juicy gossip.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.