[Sword Cultivator + Dark Humor + Maximum Coolness + No Mindless Face-Slapping]
This world is sick. Martial arts, demonic arts, devilish arts, unorthodox sects, heretical paths... Every road leads to Rome, except cultivating immortality, which is a dead end.
The eldest senior brother, whose blood and vitality burn like a furnace: “Cultivating immortality? You’ve gone completely astray.”
The second senior sister, whose silhouette could captivate a million soldiers: “Little junior brother, come join me on the demonic path. It’s safe and comfortable.”
The venerable old Daoist, with his immortal bearing: “Only by refining your body into a magical treasure can you reach the great Dao.”
Shen Yun said nothing and drew his sword without hesitation.
[Ding! You have swung your sword ten thousand times and broken through to the Qi Refining Realm.]
He looked at the eldest senior brother with black smoke billowing from his head, the second senior sister, who could scare off a million troops with a glance over her shoulder, and the old Daoist, who tripped over his own feet as he walked.
‘If I can become immortal just by swinging my sword, why would I risk my life playing your games?’
