I am a university student. I got lost, and everyone here calls me “Young Master Ji” and advises me to mourn and accept fate. Before I could even react, the county magistrate's daughter—just selected into an immortal sect—came to break off our engagement. Hah, what an interesting start.

I began to understand this strange world and saw that beneath the flourishing immortal cultivation and the rising dynasty lay thousands of miles of corpses and a people in misery. These cultivators feast on the fat of the land, drain the world’s spiritual veins dry with their alchemy and cultivation, and in the end, ascend to the heavens with loud laughter—how are they any different from corrupt officials who embezzle funds and flee abroad?

At first, I truly didn’t intend to get involved in this conflict; I just quietly did what little I could.

But when Ji You stood atop the mountain peaks and watched the immortal path collapse beneath the boundless sky, he felt truly innocent.

Struggling until the age of thirty-eight and not being able to afford a house, you have to pay 300,000 dowry in advance to get married, and spend most of your life frugally, until your liver is broken, but what about the money? Who made the money?

With countless grievances, Jiang Qin was born again at the age of eighteen. His only thought when he opened his eyes was to start a business and make money.

The first step is to snatch back the love letter that was sent out, turn it over, and write three lines in the shocked eyes of the school girl:

It is impossible to work part-time now!

I just want wealth and freedom, and never be a slave!

As for love? Dogs don't even talk about that stuff!