"Dream Loss Syndrome?"
Under the blazing autumn sun, the old residence in Yacheng was instead cool and refreshing.
Tong Ting lowered his eyes, staring at the bizarre Spiritual Substance flying insect in his hand, which could not fly out no matter how frantically it fluttered. He could not help but brood for a moment.
"Why has Yacheng had more drama in the past two years than I have seen in half my life?
"It feels like whether they're people or ghosts, they all have to come here and stir up trouble..." He paused and looked toward the old man enjoying the shade beside the pond. "Dad, did you make a bad call when you picked this place? Is our feng shui messed up?"
"Yes, you finally noticed?"
Tong Yuan shot his unserious heir a warning glance, smiling without quite smiling. "How about I find you a patch of auspicious ground and bury you there to balance it out?
"I might as well let you have my rosewood coffin too. First come, first served."
"I was wrong."
Tong Ting instantly caved. He had no desire to walk out the door only to trip and roll all the way from the mountainside to the foot of the mountain. If he kept talking tough, his father could make him roll straight into the NanDu River.
"Then take a proper look, old man. What exactly is this thing?"
He spread his fingers and tossed out the bug Tong Hua had brought back. At once, the Spiritual Substance flying insect spread its wings and flew about blindly. Yet no matter where it flew, it remained circling the old man's recliner.
Until Tong Yuan extended a hand, and it immediately hovered above it.
It folded its cicada wings.
Like a real flying insect, it groomed its