I drank water and stumbled upon an astonishing mystic technique. I took a walk and developed a divine-level footwork technique.
I casually fantasized about things and somehow cultivated my mental power to the peak of the King level.
The merchant guild I tinkered with on a whim thrived on the continent for trillions of years.
The cultivation techniques I left behind could never be surpassed by later generations, and the family I built spanned countless realms.
And yet, all I can do is cry out to the distant moon in the dead of night:
All I really wanted was to be a quiet wastrel!
