Chen Fan was being hunted, so he hid in an unnamed mountain valley, set up a formation, and promptly fell asleep.
Three hundred years later, someone woke him up.
A declining sect on the verge of collapse insisted he was their ancestor who had slept for ten thousand years. A slightly deranged genius from the righteous path insisted he was secretly plotting to destroy the world. The number-one figure of the demonic path had his Dao heart shattered by one of Chen Fan's yawns and fell to his knees, unable to get up...
Chen Fan was at his wit's end.
He just needed a little more sleep and felt a little more tired. Yawning was a natural reflex, rolling over was just finding a comfortable position, and he killed the Blood Demon because it was making too much noise.
How had he inexplicably become the cultivation world's most well-connected big shot?
Even more absurdly, the more he tried to explain, the more they believed he was secretly plotting something grand.
“The Ancestor always has a deeper purpose!”
“Is the Ancestor's gaze calculating the shape of the world three thousand years into the future?”
Chen Fan closed his eyes.
Whatever. Let it all fall apart. First, he was going back to sleep.
