What a joke.
When the Holy Son and the three mistresses clashed like gods, wouldn't mortals like them be courting death by getting involved?
"I..."
Chen Changqing was about to say something more.
Liu Ruyan cut him off.
"How about this? We won't make things difficult for you."
"Tonight, Xiao Yu's place. Tomorrow night, Junior Sister Hua Yao's. The night after, mine."
"We'll take turns. Perfectly fair."
Xuanyuan Xiaoyu and Hua Yao exchanged a glance, and neither objected.
It wasn't the ideal solution, but at least everyone was guaranteed a share of the benefits.
Chen Changqing nearly spat out a mouthful of tea.
"You... you're drawing up a duty roster?"
How was he supposed to live like this?
He was Shushan's foremost Holy Son, a mighty cultivator at late Tribulation Crossing, someone destined to punch Heavenly Lords and kick Tribulation Immortals. Yet now his entire schedule was being dictated to him.
If word got out, would he, Chen Changqing, have any face left?
He shot to his feet.
"I'm going out for a walk!"
Without waiting for the three women's reactions, he flashed away, vanishing from the hall.
Watching him flee in defeat, the three women exchanged smiles. The atmosphere, so tense and confrontational moments ago, strangely became a little more harmonious.
For the next three days, Chen Changqing lived amid deep waters and raging flames.
He discovered that he had nowhere to escape.
Whichever corner of Changqing Peak he fled to, he always "happened upon" one of the three women.
If he went to the Sword Grounds to guide the disciples in their cultivation, Liu Ruyan would bring homemade pastries to treat everyone in her capacity as their "Senior Sister."
If he went to the spirit herb garden to inspect the new holes Wangcai had dug, Hua Yao