I originally wanted to be a salted fish in the world of high martial arts, lying around and fishing every day, but I never thought that a stone picked up at random would be ten thousand years of black iron, and a beggar kicked by the roadside would turn out to be the leader of the Demon Cult. The more I wanted to keep a low profile, the more I was targeted. The more I wanted to give in, the more I was put on stage - the sect competition was forced to fight, and I punched through the ring; in the secret trial, I had to lie down, but in the end I picked up an ancient inheritance. All my enemies thought I was easy to bully, until they discovered that my salty appearance hides a world-destroying power. And when the Immortal Lord begged me on his knees to save the common people, I just wanted to say: Don't make trouble, I haven't had enough sleep yet.
