I'm obviously just an ordinary mortal who doesn't know how to cultivate immortality or have magical powers. But for some reason, the top holy places in the world have worshiped me as their ancestor. The grass that is planted casually is regarded as the spiritual root that defies the heaven; the words spoken casually are regarded as the true meaning of cultivating immortals; a few casual instructions can cause the genius to have an epiphany and the holy land to rise. Immortals and saints from all walks of life come to kneel down and ask for advice every day, and I am so panicked that I am really just a mortal! Seeing a family full of devout disciples, I could only pretend to be an expert and live my life as a legend in the three worlds that I dare not mess with.
