"Ah, well, what it's supposed to mean and what it means for me are sort of... different things, because the book I was reborn into was maybe a little bit, uh, sloppily written." Look, he needed to eat and he didn't have time to reread his own millions of words and crank out ten thousand words a day of shitty porn! "But it doesn't really matter! Anyway, yeah, you just sort of... inevitably keep heading towards godhood, you mean? I would have to make like, intentional efforts in that direction, it definitely doesn't just kind of happen, at least in my world, there are some books where Heavenly Tribulations just sort of randomly strike the worthy and call them up to the Heavenly Courts. Generally the worthy are at least cultivators already, though, so there is some work going on."

"We grunts deserve the respect, bro. We keep shit running. Like, nobody would have food or an intact roof on Cang Qiong without me and my grunt army. And you and your," he gestures vaguely, "Nobody in the modern day knows what the hell to do with a corpse, nobody can prepare someone for burial at home anymore, people would lose it without the important services of people like you! Honestly it was maybe a little alarming the first time I realized I would have to personally deal with corpses, even after I came to terms with the fact that I would as a cultivator at some point probably have to create some, because I grew up a shut-in NEET in goddamn Beijing, I was not prepared for the cultural norms of fantasy ancient China." Writing really doesn't count as employment, even if it did pay the bills, it wasn't a real job.