Chapter 1: Before Genesis, I Was... Bored
Before the first Dao was spoken,
Before the stars took shape,
Before light and dark argued over who should go first...
I existed.
Not born.
Not summoned.
Not the result of divine destiny, fate's dice roll, or someone yelling "Plot twist!" in the void.
I was there when the void was still shy.
I didn't witness Genesis.
Genesis happened because I blinked.
The "Eternal Cycle of Life"?
That was me trying to kill time on a Tuesday.
The Dao?
Learned it backwards while juggling collapsing galaxies.
The Heavens?
Built them because I was tired of staring at an empty ceiling.
And after creating universes, laws, emotions, souls, and the unfortunate invention of mosquitoes…
I got bored.
---
Eternity: Would Not Recommend ★☆☆☆☆
Here's a divine secret we don't talk about at celestial parties:
Being omnipotent is the worst.
Mortals dream of power.
Gods dream of not knowing what happens next.
Imagine being so powerful that you can predict the punchline before the joke exists.
I knew every outcome, every possibility, every love confession, betrayal, rebellion, and redemption arc.
Spoiler: the chosen one dies. Again.
Plot twist: The evil sect leader is actually… still evil.
Big reveal: The dragon egg was always a metaphor. For taxes.
It's like watching a story where you wrote the ending, the footnotes, the fanfiction, and the memes about it before it even began.
So I decided to do the unthinkable.
---
The Grand Forgetting
I sealed my divine essence.
Compressed my existence down to a manageable mortal form.
Tucked my godhood deep inside a shell that wouldn't even glow in the dark.
I didn't forget everything.
Just enough to be surprised again.
It was dangerous.
Uncharted.
Mildly exciting.
> "What are you doing?" the Void asked me.
> "Having fun," I replied.
Then I descended.
---
Entry, With Style
I didn't fall from the heavens. That's dramatic.
I descended — quietly, humbly, and with just enough pressure to accidentally erase a small sect.
I landed in a wilderness untouched by cultivation.
Mountains trembled.
Trees cried sap.
A tiger saw me and developed spiritual trauma.
I dialed back my presence, sealed my aura in seventeen folds of suppression, and made sure no more wildlife spontaneously combusted.
> "Let's not overdo it on day one," I muttered.
I walked.
Each step redefined the land subtly — stones whispered, rivers slowed down respectfully, even gravity gave me a polite nod.
I was now, to all appearances, a mortal man.
Black robes.
Long hair, no sparkles.
Bare hands.
No sword.
No glowing mark on my forehead.
No theme music.
> I was finally... anonymous.
It was glorious.
---
Day One: The World Is Weird
By sunrise, I had encountered three things:
A flying squirrel that tried to rob me
A talking rock (accidental leftover from my creation phase)
And a sect recruitment officer with two brain cells and one eyebrow
The officer was "testing talent" in a dusty village square.
> "You must have three-star spiritual roots at minimum," he declared proudly.
Kids lined up.
One tripped. Rejected.
One sneezed. Rejected.
One blinked weird. Rejected.
I watched as he tossed away potential like spoiled cabbage.
When a girl with uneven spiritual flow hesitated, he smacked the ground with his stick.
> "Out! You'll never cultivate!"
She ran.
The recruiter tripped over a goat and accused the sky of sabotage.
I chuckled.
Mortals had such strange standards.
I followed the girl later.
Found her crying behind a haystack.
"Do you want to become powerful?" I asked.
She screamed, threw a potato at me, and ran.
…We're off to a great start.
---
Naming Myself Like a Genius
I needed a new name.
Using my real one would cause the heavens to throw a parade and accidentally burn down the cosmos.
So I chose:
> "Wu Ming."
It means "Nameless."
Profound. Mysterious.
And also confusing.
"Wu Ming?" the next person asked. "Is that your real name or are you being lazy?"
"Yes."
They walked away, deeply unsettled.
Excellent.
---
The Idea: Disciples
I was sitting on a boulder one evening, watching a cloud contemplate existence, when the idea struck.
I should take disciples.
Not the talented.
Not the ones blessed by fate or born during a solar eclipse with the cry of a phoenix and a panda.
The useless ones.
The ones so ordinary even the Dao forgot they existed.
Why?
Because geniuses are boring.
You poke them, they ascend.
You sneeze near them, they gain enlightenment.
You leave them alone, they accidentally find a divine sword in the outhouse.
I wanted to raise monsters out of mud.
Take a kid with asthma, crooked Qi, and a limp…
And make the universe fear him.
---
A Mysterious Wanderer
The next few villages welcomed me with suspicion.
To them, I was a nobody in good robes.
"No spiritual pressure detected."
"No sect badge."
"Doesn't glow in the dark."
Clearly, I was beneath notice.
One child called me "Uncle Useless."
Another tried to sell me a "rare stone" (it was poop).
I smiled through all of it.
Let them judge.
Let them assume.
After all, I built their ancestors from leftover stardust.
---
And Then... Little Mu
I found him in the fourth village.
A boy. Scrawny. Shaking. Limp in one leg. Eyes too large for his face, voice too small for the world.
He had been rejected by every recruiter.
No roots. No fortune. No hope.
Perfect.
> "You. Want to become powerful?"
He looked up.
"Who… me?"
He looked around to check if a more qualified person was hiding behind a bush.
"I can't. I failed the test. My spiritual root's crooked and my cultivation pool is dry."
I nodded.
> "Good. You're mine now."
He panicked. "I'm not for sale!"
"I meant disciple. Relax. I'll feed you."
"…Do you have porridge?"
"Better. I have philosophy."
He blinked.
I blinked back.
"…Can I have porridge and philosophy?"
"…Deal."
---
First Lessons of the Wu Ming Sect™
Lesson 1: Stop apologizing to birds. They don't care.
Lesson 2: Posture. Just… posture.
Lesson 3: No crying before noon.
Little Mu tried to sit in a cultivation stance.
Immediately fell over.
Tried again.
Fell sideways and got stuck in a bush.
> "Am I hopeless?" he whimpered.
"No," I said. "You're hilarious."
He looked confused.
I gently tapped the space behind his heart.
His Qi trembled. Shifted.
His eyes widened.
Something moved.
Barely, but enough.
His jaw dropped.
"You—did you—?"
> "Shhh," I said. "Let the heavens think you did it yourself."
---
Meanwhile, Elsewhere...
Across the higher realms:
A divine mirror cracked.
A senior elder's tea boiled over.
A beast king stubbed his toe and wept.
Why?
Because something unscheduled had begun.
A boy with no fate…
Was gathering Qi.
---
The System Is Rigged
I walked with Little Mu to the village square the next day.
The sect recruiter had returned. Same robe. Same attitude. Still one eyebrow.
He tested another group.
Rejected everyone.
I waited until he looked my way.
> "You look poor," he said to me.
> "I am. Morally," I replied.
He glared. "Do you even have a disciple?"
Little Mu stepped forward.
Tried to bow.
Tripped over nothing.
The recruiter laughed so hard he coughed up lunch.
> "This? This is your disciple? A dog has more root sense!"
I smiled.
Then tapped Little Mu's back.
His Qi flared. Just a flicker.
But it made the recruiter choke on his ego.
He staggered back.
"You—you cheated!"
I nodded.
"In your heart."
---
I Am the Origin
This world worships talent.
I don't.
This world rewards inheritance.
I don't care.
I will raise the forgotten.
Build monsters out of misfits.
Make the heavens ask questions they forgot how to phrase.
And when the time comes…
> "Who taught these beasts?"
I'll sip my tea and say,
> "Me?
Just Wu Ming.
Totally normal guy. Ignore the glowing sandals."
---
🌀 Final Note — From Wu Ming Himself
Congratulations.
You made it to the end without combusting, transcending, or being hunted by a goose demon.
That means you're either worthy of the Dao…
Or skipping chores. Either way, I respect you.
So now you have three sacred options:
1. 🧠 Add to Collection — so your soul doesn't forget
2. 🪙 Drop a Power Stone — it helps me afford noodles
3. 🐔 Summon Chapter 2 — already plotting something absurd
And if you don't?
It's fine. I've trained a cabbage to read in your place.
– Wu Ming, Professional God of Everything, Part-Time Disappointment to Sect Recruiters