Wang Yu transmigrated. He became the adopted son of some Great Xia emperor and was sent to cultivate at the Tianyan Sword Sect.
He lay flat for three years, basking in the sun and admiring beauties. If he could lie down, he wouldn’t sit; if he could sit, he wouldn’t stand. Cultivate? What a hassle. He’d already worked himself to the bone pulling 996-hour workweeks in his previous life. Was he supposed to hustle again in this one? Only a fool would.
Then his golden finger awakened, and Wang Yu suddenly realized the sky was falling...
