To all who have ever dreamed of a peaceful cultivation journey, only to find themselves unexpectedly caught up in the chaotic adventures of self-proclaimed immortals, chosen heroes, and bewildered transmigrators.
Meet Mc. He's not your typical chosen one, destined hero, or even a particularly charismatic cultivator. He's just a guy trying to cultivate peace. Unfortunately, peace seems in short supply, especially when a rotating cast of self-proclaimed immortals surrounds you, each with their dramatic backstory, inflated ego, and questionable understanding of social etiquette.
Our story begins with the spectacular disruption of Mc's quiet cultivation routine. Suddenly, he's thrust into a world filled with absurd prophecies, accidental power-ups, and near-catastrophic grocery shopping experiences. Imagine the most chaotic family reunion you've ever attended but with significantly higher stakes, magical powers, and the occasional accidental summoning of mischievous spirit creatures. This has become Mc's daily life.
He finds himself entangled in a web of ancient prophecies, conflicting cultivation styles, and the arrival of a transmigrator from another world, who brings their own unique set of challenges (and hilarious cultural misunderstandings). This isn't a story of destined heroes and unwavering resolve. It's a tale about the resilience of ordinary people, the surprising power of friendship, and the comedic value of utter chaos.
It's about finding normalcy amid extraordinary events and discovering that even in a world of magic and immortality, the simple things—like a hot cup of tea or a peaceful nap—are still worth fighting for. Prepare to meet a cast of unforgettable characters, experience unexpected twists and turns, and hopefully, laugh as Mc struggles to... cultivate... typically.
The rhythmic chirping of crickets and the gentle rustling of leaves were the familiar soundtracks to my meditative cultivation practice. The late afternoon sun filtered through the ancient willow tree beside my humble hut, casting long shadows across my meticulously tended herb garden. To put it mildly, it was idyllic—a perfect day for absorbing spiritual energy and refining my qi. That was my typical day. Then, everything went spectacularly awry.
A roar shattered the tranquil atmosphere like a thousand drunken dragons gargling with gravel. The ground trembled, sending ripples through my carefully arranged spirit stones. My cultivated serenity vanished faster than a stolen spirit peach. Leaping to my feet, I peered out from my hut, expecting to see some monstrous beast that had escaped. What I saw instead was less grotesque and more… fashionably disastrous.
A quintet of individuals—if you could call them that—materialized amidst a flurry of shimmering light and vaguely unsettling purple smoke. Their arrival was less a graceful descent from the heavens and more a chaotic collision of brightly colored robes and oversized, impractical headwear. One particularly flamboyant figure, with a beard that seemed to defy gravity, landed with a resounding thump, scattering a small flock of sparrows. Another individual, adorned in what appeared to be a shimmering tapestry of questionable taste, stumbled dramatically, narrowly avoiding a collision with my prize-winning gourd plant.
"By the Celestial Heavens!" boomed the beard-clad individual, striking a pose that suggested he was attempting to channel the power of a thousand suns. Unfortunately, he missed by about nine hundred and ninety-nine suns. His expression—a mixture of self-importance and mild discomfort from the impact—gave the whole act away.
"We have arrived!" declared one of the newcomers, a slender woman whose flowing robes were adorned with tiny, glittering dragonflies that seemed to have a life of their own. They zipped and buzzed around her head, creating a distracting, faintly irritating, high-pitched whine.
"At last," sighed another, collapsing dramatically onto a nearby rock. This was a young man with hair that resembled a meticulously crafted bird's nest, and he seemed genuinely exhausted by the ordeal of their arrival. I noticed that several of the spirit stones nearby were glowing faintly, likely from the excessive exertion they had put into making such a theatrical entrance. I suspected that it required more energy than simply arriving.
The final two, a stocky man with a surprisingly expressive bald head and a woman shrouded in a voluminous, almost excessively dark cloak, exchanged glances. The bald man attempted to stifle a laugh while the woman in the cloak tried to maintain a stern expression that was failing miserably, judging by the subtle twitching of her lip.
My perfectly normal day was officially and irrevocably ruined.
These five were reincarnated immortals—at least, they claimed. They proceeded to launch into a lengthy and somewhat convoluted explanation of their past lives, their destined roles in the grand scheme of things, and the prophecies that inexplicably revolved around them. I tried to follow along, but their proclamations were laced with such an abundance of self-importance and contradictory details that my brain generated nonsensical haikus involuntarily.
The prophecies turned out to be particularly vague. They hinted at impending doom, powerful enemies, and, surprisingly, many golden lotuses. I would have to ask about the golden lotuses later if I could survive their infomercial without permanently damaging my eardrums. I decided that their fashion sense was clearly a punishment for past sins committed against the fashion gods, or perhaps the fashion gods enjoyed creating chaos.
Their initial interactions were a whirlwind of grandiose claims and petty squabbles over who had the most impressive past life. This debate eventually spiraled into a shouting match about the merits of different types of celestial weaponry. The "Rainbow-Laced Celestial Hammer" was superior to the "Ethereal Cloud-Piercing Fan," although the latter had better accessories. In short, they were a spectacularly entertaining yet equally terrifying mess.