This Cultivator Is Clearly Very Strong, Yet He Only Wants to Hide and Survive

Others cultivate immortality by seizing treasures, slapping faces, and defying fate.

I cultivate immortality by running away, hiding, and digging my safe house down to the fourth underground floor.

Others cultivate by studying how to cut through ten thousand laws with one sword.

I cultivate by studying how to make my earth escape technique 0.1 seconds faster.

Others fight on the arena stage: sword qi stretching for thirty thousand li.

I fight on the arena stage: bribe the opponent in advance, calculate the right moment to forfeit, and then the opponent all get lost, so I win without fighting.

The whole sect thinks I am a “peerless expert who hides his true strength.”

That battered notebook of mine, used specially to record escape routes, was taken by my junior sister and widely copied as The Hundred Pieces of Evidence That Senior Brother Luo Is Deeply Hidden.

My spiritual pet Bai Ze—a down-on-his-luck descendant of the nine-tailed celestial fox—evaluates me every day as:

“You, apart from being so cowardly that you embarrass me, are otherwise all right.”

But when the Demon Emperor comes knocking and everyone thinks I am fleeing, I am actually setting up a formation.

It is not that I have finally stopped being afraid. It is that the old beggar said—this time, there is no escape, only fighting back.

On the way to fight back, Bai Ze blocked the first sword strike, Jian Wufeng took the second for me, and I was still looking for a third escape route.