On Duty in the Outhouse, the Whole Sect Kneels and Calls Me an Immortal

After transmigrating into the Qingyun Sect as a menial disciple with no spiritual roots, Shen Wujiu spends every day scrubbing the latrines and gnawing on stale buns, while the chief enforcer keeps him under his heel.

At the end of his rope, he brushes his palm against a latrine floor tile and somehow awakens an ancient seal that has lain dormant for a thousand years.

The Foundation Establishment chief drops to his knees on the spot with a thud. A death-defying elder sheaths his sword and bows, addressing him again and again as “Immortal Guardian.” Their reverence is utterly over the top.

Shen Wujiu: It’s a misunderstanding. It’s all a misunderstanding.

Well, if they want to misunderstand, let them. A refined courtyard and a monthly stipend beat scrubbing latrines, right?

From then on, the whole sect spreads rumors that he’s a reclusive master:

He crawls under a bed to enlighten a sword genius, drinks poisonous tea and becomes immune to every toxin with a single burp, and even his full-bellied belches are mistaken for divine teachings. The disciples go crazy practicing “belly-rumble transmission.”

No one knows there’s a freeloader living in his dantian, demanding chilled spiritual spring water every day and refusing to pay a single coin in rent.

Shen Wujiu’s calculations click away: Want to live here for free? Not a chance!