“Grand Ancestor, could you stop sweeping? The sect is about to be trampled flat!”
After transmigrating into a cultivation sect as a sweeping monk, I thought I’d gotten a good-for-nothing start.
It wasn’t until I merged with the memories of an Ancestor who had slept for ten thousand years that I realized the whole sect belonged to me!
Looking at this bunch of disappointing descendants, I decided to try a different approach to raising them.
The fire poker I tossed aside was mistaken by a talented senior sister for an unrivaled divine weapon.
The doodles I drew out of boredom were revered by the alchemy elder as an ancient pill recipe.
I just want to lie flat, but fools keep showing up at my door looking for a fight.
Fine. On a dark and windy night, I’ll just have to step in myself and teach them what it means that “your grandpa is still your grandpa”!
