Zhang Ren transmigrated, and two pieces of news awaited him, one good and one bad.
The good news: he had transmigrated into the body of a genius in the cultivation world.
The bad news: the genius was a hopeless romantic. He’d tried to elope with a demon-cult follower, but it hadn’t worked out. She’d left him behind and, as a parting gesture, crippled his cultivation. His family had given up on training him and banished him to the edge of their territory to manage an inn.
This was how Zhang Ren, fresh from transmigrating, summed up the original owner: You selfish bastard!
You got to enjoy yourself, then just walked away when you were done. Fine, leave if you want, but you couldn’t even leave me a few memories. You didn’t suffer a bit, and left all the misery for me to deal with.
A hundred years later, Zhang Ren was fishing by the pond in the inn’s back courtyard when a waiter ran over and said, “Boss, something’s wrong! There’s a fight in the inn.”
“Why are you bothering me over something so trivial? Where’s the assistant manager?”
“He’s the one fighting someone...”
Zhang Ren: “I just want to quietly manage an inn. Why is that so hard?”
