In his one hundred and twentieth year as a mountain god, Wang Mo finally figured out one thing:
In this era, even gods have to beg for food.
The problem is, his orange cat stepped on the seal and all twenty-eight spirits ran away.
Tiandao said: If I can't catch you in three years, I will kill you.
What's even more terrible is that on the first day he came down the mountain, because of a cat, a flying squirrel with nine hundred years of spiritual practice was sent into the soul of a mortal.
That mortal is most afraid of cats.
From then on, the Waste Mountain God embarked on the humblest road of repaying debts:
I was scolded at the company during the day, walked in a nightclub at night, and had to catch monsters in the middle of the night.
And the mortal who was harmed by him was walking step by step into a secret that was deeper than the monster.
