We Set Up a Stall Together, But You’re Actually Cultivators?

Laid off, twenty thousand yuan in debt, and out of options, Old Zhu pushes his little cart to the night market to sell lemon tea.

The old man selling roasted sweet potatoes waves his fan, and the potatoes cook in an instant without even giving off smoke. The woman selling hairpins charges twenty yuan each, and wearing one instantly makes you glow. The bald guy selling grilled squid flips his spatula, sending the squid flying, while the griddle never gets hot. The taciturn high schooler selling figurines can drop one on the ground and watch it bounce three times without a scratch. The twin-tailed little girl selling iced jelly leaves it out for a whole day, and it still won’t melt.

Every day, Old Zhu thinks to himself: Is there something wrong with these neighbors?

Then heavenly lightning strikes, and all five “neighbors” act at once: an Immortal Venerable, a Demon Emperor, a War God, a divine beast, and a Holy Maiden. The whole set.

Old Zhu looks at the dazzling celestial magic filling the sky, then at the lemon in his hand, and cries out in despair:

“We set up stalls together, so how come all of you are cultivating immortality?!”

One mortal, a bunch of immortals, and a night market. These immortals are a handful to manage.