The day I ascended, I drained the spiritual energy from the entire cultivation world.
The immortal sects' patriarchs fell in cultivation on the spot, and three thousand years of practice vanished like a dream.
The Demon Lord's life-bound true flame went out, leaving it with nothing but mortal iron.
Even the Ghost King beneath the Nine Hells, its soul power exhausted, began the cycle of reincarnation.
When the entire cultivation world issued a warrant for my arrest, I was lying in a teahouse, yawning.
"At last, I can get a decent night's sleep."
The cultivators sent to hunt me down knelt and offered me a divine artifact. "Please, accept this!"
"Otherwise, people will think we never came after you."
I casually crushed the artifact. "Too brittle. It hurts my hand."
They cried even harder. "Then tell us, what isn't brittle?"
