A former product manager was revised into the ICU by a client, then transmigrated into the cultivation world as a good-for-nothing young lady whose engagement had just been broken off. She pulled out a fifteen-yuan claw hammer and said one thing to her former fiancé: "What are you, a hammer?"
From then on, everyone in the cultivation world knew: Don't mess with a woman carrying a hammer.
Lin Xiaochui had spent eight years as a product manager in her previous life. She had revised proposals eight hundred times, only to be sent to the ICU by a client saying, "Could you optimize it a little more?"
When she opened her eyes again, she had become the cultivation world's most useless young lady, at the third level of Qi Refining. Her cultivation was at the bottom, and her fiancé had just torn up their marriage contract in the street. Everyone was waiting for her to cry.
She smiled and pulled a hammer from her pocket. It cost fifteen yuan, and you could buy one at a hardware store. Gu Mingyuan drew his sword and struck with all his might at the mid Foundation Establishment stage. She raised her hand and tapped the spine of his blade, knocking it three inches off course. "Second Young Master Gu, what are you, a hammer?"
From then on, the cultivation world had a new oddball: she didn't practice swordsmanship, cultivate the Dao, or follow the rules. A cultivation method was too lousy? She dismantled it and rewrote it. The sect's rules had a loophole? She put up a notice and called them out. A good-for-nothing disciple had practiced for twenty years without a breakthrough? Her seven-day crash course had ninety-seven people advancing on the spot.
She took in a snake demon who had been imprisoned for three hundred years, a spirit hammer that chose its own master, and a gray-robed old man who had waited for three hundred years. Others relied on talent, spirit medicines, and lucky chances to cultivate. She relied on optimizing processes, breaking down requirements, and hammering out her own path, one blow at a time.
Three months later, her former fiancé's father came with eight thousand spirit stones to buy her hammer. Without even looking up, she set it on the table and sent her reply: "Not for sale. What are you, a hammer?"
Don't mess with a woman carrying a hammer.
The first time I read this book, I laughed out loud. The second time I read it, I suddenly couldn't laugh anymore—wasn't the person standing under the peach tree saying, "The hardest thing is the heart that refuses to let go of itself," just like myself? This is a story about how to shatter yourself and then piece yourself back together. Beautiful, beautiful, super beautiful! Keep up the good work!