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For me, the world of cultivation was divided into three difficulty levels: The easy level Mortal Plane where I made mob characters cry the name of their ancestors. The medium level Spiritual Plane where mob characters made me cry the name of my ancestors. The hard level Heavenly Plane where I joined my ancestors. After experiencing all sorts of turbulence for more than thousand years and somehow restarting my life again in the middle of easy level (Mortal Plane), I wanted to do nothing more than become an NPC and peacefully ascend to higher planes without fighting like those hot-blooded lunatics of shounen manga. As such, I painstakingly taught my dear disciples all sorts of knowledge in hopes that they could provide senior support for their master in the future. Yet… how did things turn out this way? What do you mean you are going to destroy the Heavenly Demon Sect? Isn’t that supposed to be the duty of high spec MCs? Oh wait, you are a high-spec MC. Wait what? You want to rule over the world? Go and cure your chuuni disease before you come before me again. And you, you, and you. What do you mean by you will not let anybody take our master? Wear your dress properly and go meet the therapist immediately. *sigh* I can’t take it anymore. Someone, please replace me. My female disciples are scary. ..................... I do not own the cover pic nor any portion of it.
I am a sword cultivator in the Heavenly Plane. Well, I was.
The reason I say that is because I am dead.
While I had hopes of at least getting a heroic or peaceful death, my death was nothing short of tragic.
I died after being swatted like a fly by some random young master A.
Apparently, he was offended that I blocked his path.
At that moment, I finally came into the realization that it was a great mistake on my part to have become a sword cultivator. I should have embarked on the smooth journey of being a pill master or inscription master instead.
In the end, I ended up dying not only as an 'expert' sword cultivator but also an (in)experienced wizard. Perhaps an arch-wizard?
… Ha ha… FMCL (Fuck My Cultivator Life)
Thinking about it now, my life was not always like this. At least, not in the mortal plane.
There was once a time when I was hailed as a rare genius of my era and had a pride which valued my words a thousand times more precious than gold.
While my talent still paled in comparison to monster level geniuses, but I was still the creme of the crop. One must understand that those monster level geniuses were as rare as Qilins in the wild and phoenixes in the sky.
Even the sect I cultivated in the mortal plane was a branch of the Immortal Divinity Sect of the heavenly plane. If I had just continued to stay there, I could have been directly accepted to the main branch of the sect after reaching the heavenly plane. Even my time in spiritual plane would be peaceful.
But I just had to go and dump all those benefits in the dumpster by being too naive and prideful.
After I elevated to the status of elder and became aware of the sect's black dealings with devil cults, I became disillusioned and broke off all my ties with the sect by faking my death.
I then started my new life as a rogue cultivator.
To be honest, my time as a rogue cultivator in the mortal plane was not bad.
By a swipe of my hand, people would fly unfettered like birds and by a swipe of my sword, legends would become filial to their ancestors by reciting their name.
I was strong.
In fact, I was so strong that I even broke through to the spiritual plane after just hundred more years of training.
But then, everything changed after I reached spiritual plane.
My status as a potential Xianxia protagonist slowly demoted to a mere mob fodder and I finally experienced the profound meanings contained in the legendary phrase "Karma is a Bitch".
Because, this time, it was my turn to become filial to my ancestors.
My earliest memory of being in the spiritual plane is of me acting all arrogant and aloof. My next memory is of me getting a palm mark on my cheek.
My other memories of the time are a bit fuzzy, but I got a full internship on the dangers of the spiritual plane.
Since then, I continued to further cultivate while making sure that I did not get into anyone's bad side.
While other people got cool names like 'flying sword Lin', or 'the dragon fist Chen Fan', I got my own unique name which was famous throughout the entire city.
I was known by my title of 'Everyone's Lacky Xing Fan'. (T_T)
Although I knew that I was no longer an elder, an expert, or even a sect member and that I was merely a person with no background, I could not find myself to readily accept such a shitty name.
So, I went down the forest to display my brilliance.
The next day, I was given the new title of 'Everyone's Piggy bank Xing Fan'. o(╥﹏╥)
After repeatedly being bullied and robbed in that harsh environment where my only friends were some strange things known as 'automatons' and my only console was the daily broadcast of 'immortal idol XX' via magic crystal, I meticulously tempered my Dao over a few years.
With some filler adventures and some tragic backstory, I soon managed to surpass the limits of my talent and break through the spiritual plane to reach the heavenly plane.
I thought that this breakthrough would be akin to carp jumping to be a dragon.
In the end, I was proven wrong. Terribly wrong.
Instead, this breakthrough taught me the fear of something other than physical injuries or death.
It taught me the meaning of mental trauma.
Unlike my previous experience with the breakthrough to the spiritual plane, this time I was teleported in the middle of a lake.
And like a cliche MC scenario, there happened to be a figure bathing in the middle of the lake.
Of course, you may have already guessed it at this point, but the figure before me was not a bishoujo.
… it was a bishou Orc.
That terrifying experience makes me shiver till this very day.
Instead of hearing some words of threat or roar of anger that I expected, what reflected before my eyes that day were a pair of heated eyes of the Orc.
My memories of that day remain incomplete, but I do remember using almost all the teleport scrolls in my possession and nearly committing suicide.
Thankfully, I successfully evaded it since the orc was still young.
At least, that is how my memory goes. I am still a wizard… right? ゜・（／.＼）・゜
[AN: Yes you are. Rejoice]
A few days later, some villagers found me in tatters and shivering in the wild.
I don't know if they felt pity or found the sight too unbearable to watch, but I was 'adopted' by them.
The village was situated in an impressive peak which reflected rainbow colors and the villagers were friendly enough to teach me the art of pill-making, cooking, and farming.
Initially, I remained suspicious of their objective because many important-looking cultivators entered the village every day. As such, I was sure that it was not exactly a 'Village A'.
But as years passed by, their carefree temperament affected me, and I lost all my immortal bearing or cautiousness.
Now that I think of it, I suppose my current carefree thinking is a result of living in that place for many years.
At any rate, my time in the village was rather peaceful.
As a few decades passed, I gradually forgot the dangers of the wild.
As more years passed by, I begun to long for an adventure.
As even more years passed by, I finally decided to travel the world.
Although some of the villagers protested my decision by saying that it was dangerous and that my talents would be wasted, in the end they still consented to my wishes.
Thus, I packed my things and bade the villagers farewell to embark on my heroic Journey… or not.
I died on the first day to my greatness.
FMCL.
