A female cultivator was struck dead by heavenly tribulation in the world of immortal cultivation. She thought her soul would be annihilated, but when she opened her eyes again, she was at the entrance to an orphanage. It was the middle of the day, and if she hadn't still had some cultivation left inside her, the sun would have killed her before anyone found her. Scarlett Lyra Mograve: that was the name on the note the orphanage director found in her swaddling clothes.
How amazing. They even left her a name.
It took her eleven years to adapt to this perfectly ordinary world. Then, one day, an old man with a white beard told her she was a witch, a witch who could use magic. Come on! What a joke. Her cultivation was something she'd painstakingly earned in the world of immortal cultivation! Even if it hadn't been enough to withstand the heavenly lightning.
Dumbledore: You should go to school at Hogwarts.
Scarlett: NO.
Dumbledore: You can get a job and earn money after you graduate!
Scarlett: OK.
Scarlett points at the troll, the Horcruxes, the basilisk, the fugitive, the Dementors, and the noseless man, then slaps Dumbledore's desk. "Is this really a school?"
