What, A 3,000-Year-Old Loser?
Giles Baker is the grand founding patriarch of the Azure Abyss Sword Sect. For three thousand years, he remained stuck in the Energy Refining Stage, unable to establish his Foundation. Time to find some gifted ladies, for dual cultivation might just do the trick. Will he get to build his Foundation in the end?
Recommended for you
Blood on the Lip = Emotional Chekhov’s Gun
She’s bleeding, but not collapsing—just standing, sword in hand, eyes wide with betrayal. That tiny crimson drop? It’s not injury; it’s narrative ignition. In *What, A 3,000-Year-Old Loser?*, trauma wears silk and stays upright. Pain as posture, not weakness. 💔🗡️
The Third Guy Who Suddenly Remembers He Has a Voice
White-robed dude goes from background decor to finger-pointing drama king in 0.5 sec. His sudden outburst? Pure short-form genius. In *What, A 3,000-Year-Old Loser?*, even side characters get arc whiplash. We love chaotic energy with gold-threaded sleeves. 😤🔥
When Your BFF Steps In Like a Human Shield (But Also a Softie)
He wraps his arm around her—not to restrain, but to *hold*. The shift from shock to tenderness in one gesture? Masterclass in micro-acting. In *What, A 3,000-Year-Old Loser?*, loyalty doesn’t shout; it steadies. Also, his belt is *chef’s kiss*. 🫶🪶
Hairpins, Hemlines, and Hidden Histories
Every hairpin tells a dynasty. Every embroidered hem whispers rebellion. In *What, A 3,000-Year-Old Loser?*, costume design isn’t decoration—it’s exposition. That silver filigree? It’s not jewelry; it’s a family curse in metal. 🔮🧵
That Umbrella Is a Plot Device, Not Just a Prop
The silver-haired figure’s parasol isn’t just aesthetic—it’s a silent power symbol. Every tilt, every pause under its shade screams control. In *What, A 3,000-Year-Old Loser?*, it frames tension like a director’s cut. The way he holds it while others tremble? Chef’s kiss. 🌂✨