Cultivating Immortality by Eliminating Geniuses

The fairest thing in the history of the cultivation world is that, in front of me, talent means nothing.

My name is Gu Yan. I'm a servant at Qinglan Sect, and my talent is “Insensitivity.”

They say the spiritual energy I sense in my entire life is less than what others absorb in the time it takes to burn one incense stick.

They laugh at my lame leg, steal my pills, and shove me off a cliff.

It doesn't matter.

I'll make every last one of them watch their talents rot away with me.

I can see the halos of talent above people's heads.

Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple, dazzling and radiant.

Then all I need is a thought, and it goes, snap, shattered.

Zhao Hu used his “Iron Skin” talent to steal my pills. The next day, he was nothing but ordinary flesh.

The hook-nosed enforcer from the Hall of Discipline used a soul-searching needle to interrogate me. When he turned away, thirty years of cultivation had become a joke.

A genius senior sister from the inner sect brought me pills and rescued me from prison.

I looked at the pure, dazzling blue light above her head and said thank you.

Then I quietly added her name to the twenty-seventh place on my list.

The road to immortality is long, and I have all the time in the world.

One by one.