The Wastrel Boy Rises in the Cultivation World

“Yang Xiaoming, Yang Xiaoming…” A familiar voice called out urgently. Yang Xiaoming slowly woke up to find himself lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. The room was dimly lit, furnished with antique wooden tables and chairs, and a slightly worn canopy hung over the bed. Wisps of smoke rose from a bronze incense burner, filling the air with a delicate fragrance.

After asking around and observing his surroundings, he was shocked to learn that he had transmigrated. Even more unbelievably, he had transmigrated into the body of someone with the same name. This Yang Xiaoming was famous in the cultivation world for being useless, born unable to cultivate and despised and bullied by everyone.

Yang Xiaoming could not help but smile bitterly. He had already been unlucky enough in the modern world, and now, after transmigrating to this cultivation world, he was still a good-for-nothing with no redeeming qualities. Remembering all the misfortunes he had suffered in the modern world and looking at his predicament now, he felt utterly hopeless. Was he destined to spend his whole life struggling through hardship?