I Might Be A Fake Cultivator - Chapter 2322 - I’m Actually a Battery

# simulator

Bai Yi transmigrated to a fantasy world and awakened the Immortal Cultivation Simulator. The longer he managed to survive in a simulation, the better the rewards he would obtain.

[You were born into a poor family… you died due to hunger.]

[You were born into a rich family that runs a business… you were killed by kidnappers.]

After failing more than 30 times in the Immortal Cultivation Simulator, Bai Yi wondered whether he was unfit for cultivation. Therefore, he had to rely on others to go through the simulation for him!

[Chen Qianxue, the Holy Maiden of the Soul Sword Clan, has entered into the Immortal Cultivation Simulator upon your invitation.]

[Age 0, Chen Qianxue was born into a poor family.]

[Age 5, Chen Qianxue picked up the manuscript of the Sword Cultivation Technique by chance.]

[Age 8, Chen Qianxue was at the first level of the Qi Refinement stage.]

[Age 164, Chen Qianxue failed while attempting to break through to the next stage. She died due to sudden, unbearable power pushing through her meridians.]

[You acquired the following rewards…]

[…]

While reading a book, a sparkle of light disappeared. And, as it did, a message appeared.

The latest novel by Get Lost.————————Surrounded by monsters and eerie shadows, I am petrified.I just want to stay in the safe house, until the end of time...————————The indestructible eerie shadows, endless monsters, Yu Hong comes here with the mysterious black mark, utilizing the black mark that can strengthen everything, slowly builds his own absolute safe zone in his safe house.This book integrates bizarre cultivation with extreme paths, as promised by the author.

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.