The crowd held their breath for some reason, waiting for the paralysis boy with a 'trash imagination' to pull off a miracle, and that's exactly what he did.

The ball shone with a blinding white light and by the time the glimmer faded away, the five 'immortals' were on the verge of fighting each other, all keen to take him into their sect.

The cause of this... was a Low-Heaven Spirit Root, one that hasn't been seen in the millions of miles of the region around us in ages.

When the argument was about to scale up, the City Lord, my maternal uncle bowed and asked them to leave the choice to his son.

Originally, the 5 of them would have slapped him shut, but considering his status as the father of the supreme genius, they shut up and let the boy decide.

As the boy with spirited eyes hesitated to make his choice, I looked around at the rest of my bizarre cousins.

The bullies were looking at it with a mixture of fear and uncertainty, probably cursi