Chen Qingyang transmigrated to the Great Wilderness. He had a handsome face, but no spiritual roots.
His useless System gave him nothing but junk: supreme mastery of the zither and chess, supreme skill in calligraphy and painting, a grandmaster's martial intent, five-colored holy light...
Aside from their impressive names and flashy effects, none of them could help him cultivate.
But what Chen Qingyang never expected was...
A cup of tea he brewed on a whim could help junior disciples of a sect break through.
A piece of calligraphy he wrote casually could grievously wound a sect leader.
A few offhand words of nonsense could make certain old fossils ascend on the spot.
Cultivators throughout the Great Wilderness regarded Chen Qingyang as an earthly immortal. Only Chen Qingyang himself had no idea he was an unparalleled master.
The realm is unclear, and imitating others is not enough.
All the silken fishing baits have been taken away, and I listen to the rain and sleep in front of the Bazi Mountain - Xu Fu's "Partridge Sky· Qize Ze San Xiang Green Grass"