When I was eight years old, I was rejected by the Immortal Cultivating Sect. I knelt for seven days and seven nights, but no one took me in.
The little boy who walked out of the door secretly gave me half a piece of steamed bun: "Stop kneeling down, they won't accept you because your spiritual roots are too weak."
"Then what should I do?" I asked him crying.
He blinked: "You go to Mo Xiu Mountain across the way. Although it has a bad reputation, as long as you are ruthless enough, you might be able to come back and be my uncle in three hundred years."
Three hundred years later, I really came back.
However, he has become a traitor to the entire sect and is being tied up on the Zhuxian Platform.
Intention: Good and evil are never superficial