After a Hundred Reincarnations, I Just Want to Lay Low Until the End

Who can relate?! Across a hundred lifetimes of reincarnation, I kept flirting with death in every single one, only for each ending to be absurdly tragic. I either fought to become a chosen genius, only to be used as someone else’s stepping stone and cut down with a single sword strike, or gave everything to protect someone’s path, only to be betrayed and killed by the person I trusted most. For the first ninety-nine lives, I pushed myself, competed with everyone, trained in the most brutal arts, and fought for the riskiest opportunities, yet I could never escape the fate of dying young. Then I was reborn for the hundredth time, and seeing all those gifted geniuses tearing themselves apart, I finally understood! Chosen geniuses are like chives: cut one crop down and another grows back. I’m a weed; quietly growing stronger is the way to go. A poor spiritual root? No problem. I’ll hide the cultivation I’ve built up over a hundred lives and pose as a good-for-nothing. An opportunity comes knocking? I’ll watch and wait instead of letting myself be used as a weapon. Someone picks a fight? I’ll back down fast. As long as the green hills remain, there’ll be no shortage of firewood. In this life, I won’t compete, charge ahead, or show off. I just want to keep to my little patch of land, pick up a few bargains, practice some easygoing techniques, and safely lie low until the end. But who could have guessed that I’d be unable to hide the foundations I built over a hundred lives? I pretended to be weak and became a reclusive big shot; I went looking for bargains and became the Heavens’ favorite son! The sect begs me to come out of seclusion, the Immortal Venerables call me senior, and even the Heavenly Dao makes an exception for me. Help! I really just want to stay alive. I’m not trying to become some big shot!