Su Qinghe transmigrated into the world of cultivation and wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner and take it easy.
No snatching opportunities, no grinding away at her cultivation, no competing with other women, no romance.
She thought the secret-realm treasures everyone else fought over were too much trouble, so she stayed away.
She casually picked up the broken artifacts, withered spirit roots, and discarded pill dregs that everyone else looked down on.
And as she kept picking things up
The junk turned out to be an ancient immortal artifact,
The discarded pills were divine elixirs thought lost to history,
And the withered root was a congenital Dao body, unseen for ten thousand years.
She was forced to compete in the sect tournament.
The crowd laughed at her: “A slacker odd-job disciple thinks she can compete?”
The next moment, she casually subdued every prodigy in the arena.
The crowd: “???”
Su Qinghe: “Quiet. I want to go back to sleep.”
For the special writing method of first person, I must support it