On the Night of the Tribulation, Someone Ordered a Takeaway

Lu Chen is dead. At the last second when he was hit by a truck, what he was thinking about was not his parents or his dreams, but: "This order is overdue, and the fine is twenty." He woke up. The ceiling of the rental house, the phone with a broken screen, a bunch of overtime deduction notices, and eight thousand years of extra memories in my mind. His name is Lu Xuanji, a genius of casual cultivation who is rarely seen in the world of cultivation for thousands of years. On the night when I transcended the tribulation and ascended to heaven, my soul was stabbed from behind by the person I trusted the most. The remnant soul traveled through the cracks in the void and attached itself to the delivery boy who was killed. No spiritual roots. No cultivation. Dantian is empty. The phone rang again: [You have a new takeout order, please process it in time] Lu Chen put on his takeout clothes and pushed his electric car out...