About How I, a Good-for-Nothing, Pretended to Be an Emperor

Ye Fan is the Cloud Mist Sect’s most good-for-nothing servant. His spiritual roots are a jumble, he has no cultivation, and everyone calls him “the sect’s disgrace.”

No one knows that he is actually the one and only “Mortal Dao Body” throughout the ages, the foundation of an ancient Dao Ancestor, cursed and sealed by the Heavenly Dao.

When the heaven’s favored beauty who broke off their engagement struts around with a true disciple from a sacred land in tow, Ye Fan quietly clenches his fist. “That so-called immortal of yours has unsteady footing and depleted kidney qi. One look tells me he drank and caroused himself hollow last night. An immortal like that? One punch is all I need.”

Boom!

From that day on, the Cloud Mist Sect loses a useless sweeper, and the cultivation world gains the “Mortal Emperor,” a specialist in face-slapping.

Even more troublesome, why are all those fairies who once looked down on him now blushing as they slip into the woodshed one after another?

“Ye Fan! Didn’t you say you were useless? How the hell is this useless?”

Ye Fan scratches his head, looking innocent. “I am useless. Just a useless little treat, one that specializes in taking down geniuses like you.”