Somewhere in an unknown Starfield.
An unremarkable star, an unremarkable cave abode.
Zhao Wumian sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, holding a cup of Spirit Tea and leisurely savoring it.
Ever since encountering that harbinger of disaster on the Mining Star years ago, he had moved his entire Lineage elsewhere. The new place was remote and its spiritual energy mediocre, but its advantage was that no one knew him.
He had lived quite comfortably these past years. When he heard that some Gathering of Immortals was being held outside, he found an excuse not to attend.
Were they kidding? An assembly of worthy talents? It sounded lovely, but why would those Immortal Emperors go to such lengths to summon everyone without a reason?
Whenever something like this happened, it meant nothing good could come of it! If he couldn't afford to provoke them, surely he could afford to hide?
For that reason, he had completely cut off contact with the outside world.
He figured that in eighty or a hundred years, whatever was happening outside should be more or less over. Then he could pretend to have failed a breakthrough and fallen in cultivation before venturing out to see what was going on.
Hmph. Now that's what you call playing it safe.
By not going, he didn't have to live on tenterhooks or watch anyone's mood. He could enter seclusion whenever he wanted and drink tea whenever he pleased.
This was what immortal cultivation should be!
Zhao Wumian contentedly blew away the foam on his tea. Just as he was about to take a sip, a sudden shiver ran through him.
The cup shook, splashing a few drops of tea onto the back of his hand.
Zhao Wumian set down the cup and frowned.
Something was wrong.
At his cultivation