Every year, the Immortals above bestowed blessings, and the people below bowed their heads in thanks.
Only Lu Yuan could see that the bill for this “heavenly grace” was paid in thirty thousand laborers, seven thousand disaster victims, and the nation's fortune, drained away bit by bit.
In his previous life, he was a programmer trapped in a 996 work schedule. In this life, he was the sole orphan of the Prince of Zhenbei's manor. He had only wanted to hide away on Wordless Peak and cultivate in peace, but the Immortal Sects treated the common people as expendable materials, the imperial power treated sacrifice as the rules, and even his mother had been bound by a heavenly contract.
So Lu Yuan had to return to his old line of work: find the loopholes, dismantle the rules, and revise the requirements.
The celestial official said the laws of Heaven could not be broken.
Lu Yuan opened his ledger. “Fine. Then explain this first: why do you get to enjoy the benefits while the Three Realms foot the bill?”
From Wordless Peak to the heights of Heaven's Gate, this time it wasn't one person reaching the summit. Everyone who had ever been written into the cost would take back the power to choose with their own hands.
