After transmigrating to the cultivation world, I knew how dangerous it could be, so I secluded myself in the mountains and swore, ‘I won't leave until I become an immortal.’
I thought only three years had passed outside, but in fact, it had been thirty thousand.
The chickens I raised were called ‘Primordial Phoenixes.’ The cabbages I grew were hailed as ‘Immortal Medicine of Eternal Life.’ A doodle I casually drew of Peppa Pig was studied by a group of sword immortals and deemed the ‘Supreme Sword Dao Diagram.’
A bunch of bigwigs with wild imaginations built a sect outside my home and insisted on calling me their founding patriarch.
I live in constant fear, worrying every day about how to break through to the first level of Qi Refining.
Then one day, my most beloved, dim-witted disciple was bullied at the foot of the mountain.
I figured I'd go down and reason with them, but... I accidentally slapped a holy land's patriarch to death.
Staring at the patriarch as he disintegrated into nothing, I fell into deep thought.
Huh? Does that slap already have the power of the second level of Qi Refining?
