Cultivation of Immortality Begins with the Handyman Disciple Lying Down

Others traveled through time as a genius young master, but I, Lin Zhou, started out as the lowest handyman disciple of the Qinglan Sect. Linggen is useless, and he either carries water or patrols the mountains every day. The biggest opportunity is to help feed the pigs in Qitang. The senior brothers got involved and went crazy, and the elders' fighting skills affected Chi Yu. I just want to stay in the handyman's office, sharpen my iron rod, bask in the sun, and lie down peacefully. Until that day, there was an internal quarrel in the Qi Hall, and blood splattered all over my face. The missing senior brother knocked on my firewood shed door late at night and gave me a bloody token. The deacon of the Discipline Hall glanced at my yard with cold eyes, and a strange sword sound came from the restricted area in the back mountain late at night... Only then did I realize that this fairy gate was darker than I thought. Want to lie down? Trouble will find itself at your door. When the storm came and everyone wanted to use me as a scapegoat, I silently raised the inconspicuous iron rod that had been sharpened for three years. They didn't know that when I was shoveling shit for the crane, I picked up the inheritance of ancient sword cultivators. They didn't even know that the keys to the sword washing pool were hidden in the excrement pulled out by the iron-skinned pigs I fed. The scroll kings cultivated themselves by stacking pills, and I became an immortal by picking up rags.