I Owe My Account Book, and the World of Immortal Cultivators Begs Me Not to Die

Xu Yanzhou traveled through the world of immortality and became the poorest handyman in the Qinglan Sect. He has an ordinary spiritual root, a weak body, and not even a single spiritual stone in his pocket. The first thing he does when he wakes up is that he is forced by the accountant to sign the bill. I haven't been paid for three years. The spiritual rice, medicine dregs, bed planks, and door planks were all counted as his debts. Xu Yanzhou looked at the bill full of loopholes and was silent for a moment. Fight, he can't beat him. Run, he can't run. Admit it? It would be better to die first. Until the old paper was stained with blood, a black account book that only he could see was quietly opened—— [The Qinglan Sect owes Xu Yanzhou three years of labor wages. [The first item of this debt, collection begins. From then on, there was a poor man who was the best at checking accounts in the world of immortality.