Martial Geniuses Grind to Madness; Only I Attain Immortality by Lying Low

The world of martial dao teems with geniuses, and the race for supremacy never ends. Whenever a secret realm opens, cultivators gamble their lives to seize the treasures of heaven and earth; whenever the great sects hold their tournaments, countless martial artists battle to the death for rank and renown. Yet one person stands apart from it all—a quiet young man who keeps a cat. Day after day, he remains by the outer sect's lotus pond, never competing for glory, never drawing attention, content to pass his days in the company of his feline companion. "Unambitious" and "mediocre" became the labels attached to Wu Zheng. But years later, the old man who guarded the mountain recalled it this way: "A sword flew out from that lotus pond. A single stroke of its cold light swept across the thirteen provinces. That day, immortals fell like rain." "And, ah yes—there was also that white cat named Nuomi. It fell asleep amid the clouds and mist."