Robert Nord wakes up from a deep sleep, one he regreted to ever take.   Instead of waking up to his well-known, stark, eggshell-white ceiling, atop his luxurious 800€ mattress with down feather duvet and fluffy cushions, he finds himself staring at molden planks of wood, a stench of sweat, blood and iron mellowing in the air.   A world of swords that sunder oceans and fists that crack mountainsides.   This is a world known throughout the dimensions, a world of wuxxia and xianxia.   (This fiction will be parodying many a wuxxia and hopefully do a good job with it. Not only will I try and stress the most ridiculous down-sides of wuxxias but I will also take a shot at making it enjoyable while I'm at it. And don't be fooled by the Lit-RPG tag, after all, every MC needs his secret weapon, regardless how much they try to deny it.)