I Fell from the Immortal Realm and Became the Overlord of the Lower Realm

I mined in the Immortal Realm for three years and saved up ten immortal stones.

On tax day, the steward planted a foot on my chest. My fiancée handed over the ten stones. "You and I have long been people from different worlds. Take these ten as a wedding gift."

A year later, she and the steward held their dual cultivation ceremony at Purple Cloud Peak.

That afternoon, one palm strike sent me plunging into the Abyss of Severed Realms, where I became the foundation of the sect's great formation.

No one thought I could survive.

At the bottom of the abyss sat a dark-gold skeleton. My blood splashed onto it, and it transformed into a small furnace, leaving behind just two lines:

One year in the Immortal Realm equals ten thousand years in the lower realm.

If you haven't achieved at least ten percent dominion over the Eastern Wasteland within a hundred days, you die.

The lower realm is short on spiritual energy, and the strong are as common as weeds. So I'll devour them one by one: sects, clans, dynasties. I'll count them all as mine.

I'll be there on the day of their ceremony.