Lu Chen spent three thousand years squatting in a forbidden zone and weaving bamboo baskets.
His cultivation never improved. He was still at the Qi Refining Stage. Foundation Establishment? Golden Core? Nascent Soul? Not a chance. He just wove bamboo baskets every day, making them and taking them apart, over and over.
Then one day, he sneezed.
More than a hundred demonic cultivators fell from the sky. Their leader was embedded in a cliff face so deeply no one could pry him out.
The entire sect went mad. Who was this old odd-job worker?
Lu Chen himself felt a little embarrassed. "I haven't sneezed in three thousand years. I guess I overdid it."
The sect leader told him: Want to leave? Fine. Make the Taixu Sect the greatest sect under heaven, and the restriction around your ankle will come loose on its own.
Lu Chen glanced at the golden ring that had bound his ankle for three thousand years.
"Fine. Let's do it."
Someone asked how high his cultivation really was.
He thought for a moment. "Qi Refining. I've just been at it a while: 9,999 layers."
"...The Qi Refining Stage only has nine layers."
"This old man knows."
