Cultivation of Immortality Begins with Erasing Geniuses

The fairest thing in the history of the world of immortality is that in front of me, talent is meaningless. My name is Gu Yan, a handyman from the Qinglan Sect, and my talent is "No Feeling". They said that the spiritual energy I have sensed in this life is not as good as others meditating and burning an incense stick. They laughed at my lameness, robbed me of my elixirs, and pushed me into the cliff. It doesn't matter. I'll let all their talents rot with me. I can see the halo of talent above other people's heads. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple, dazzling. Then, all I needed was a thought to make it—pop, shatter. Zhao Hu relied on his "copper skin" talent to steal my elixir. The next day, he became an ordinary piece of meat. The hook-nosed law enforcement officer used a soul-searching needle to question me, and then turned around. His thirty years of cultivation had become a joke. The genius senior sister from the inner sect gave me pills to save me from prison. I looked at the pure and dazzling blue light above her head and said thank you. Then I silently added her name to the twenty-seventh position on my list. The road to immortality is long and I have plenty of time. Come one by one.