Starting at Five Village Temple, Laying Low Until Eternal Life Through Myriad Tribulations

In ancient fantasy novels, human form is equivalent to a Great Luo Golden Immortal. You, a mortal born later in life, are worth less than roadside weeds. What right do you have to live? If an immortal accidentally blows a breath on you, you're dead. What right do you have to live?

You're just an ordinary person, why should I accept you? Do you have a big face?

I'm truly speechless. How could anyone write something like this? From that so-called senior disciple to that group of foxes and tigers, in my memory, they should have been killed the moment they stepped into the territory of Wuzhuang Temple with their left foot, like rats in a ditch.

The author has started a new genre: the underworld/primordial chaos genre.

The protagonist, a frail human, cultivates at the Wuzhuang Temple in the primordial world, surrounded by monsters who start as Human Immortals or Golden Immortals. He must begin his cultivation from the very basics of refining essence into qi.

Assuming there's no main character, could Zhen Yuanzi truly tolerate the mindset of his disciples?

This book is so addictive, it's really painful to read.

In the primordial world, foundations mattered. The few humans that Nuwa initially sculpted by hand had higher foundations, while those she later hurled with vines ended up as mere stragglers by the roadside.

A cheat code is necessary in every genre, but it stands out in the prehistoric fantasy genre.

Ordinary, even a bit toxic.