A Makeshift Cultivation Clan: I'm Ridiculously Lucky

The world is one giant amateur production. And I’m ridiculously useless.

My dad is on the brink of ascension and gets chased around by lightning tribulations every day, but I can’t even practice “sinking my qi to my dantian” without turning it into “sinking my qi to my hemorrhoids.”

My mom is a regular on the cover of Cultivation Daily, while I flew two meters on a sword before crashing and becoming paralyzed from the neck down.

My sister formed her Nascent Soul at twelve, and her Nascent Soul is older than her homeroom teacher. Meanwhile, at twelve, I was still using flying swords as barbecue skewers to grill chicken wings outside her cave.

Even the sweeping puppet in our house is a retired guardian beast from an ancient sword sect. It vacuums while meditating, and even sets me practice tests for Foundation Establishment.

Fortunately, they all dote on me.

My dad says, “Sweetheart, it’s okay that you’re only at the third level of Qi Refining. We can just restart the world’s spiritual energy.”

My mom says, “Darling, a broken leg is nothing. Just don’t let it break your Dao heart.”

I gradually came to terms with it all...

Until the day the online sensation known as a “Heavenly Spirit Root genius” showed up at our door with two boxes of ancient inheritances, claiming I’d stolen her rightful position as sect heir.

Wonderful. The worry that had been hanging over me for years has finally come true.