He sat there in a daze for a long while.
Tang San finally collected his emotions, got up and slipped on a pair of ugly cloth shoes, then walked to the dilapidated wooden window.
Outside, the night was still deep.
Peering through the darkness toward the distant east, he suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of tension and heartache.
Tang San frowned, assuming it was merely the lingering effects of the nightmare. He shook his head hard and did not dwell on it.
He had woken up two quarters of an hour earlier than usual this time.
But it did not matter. He had no desire to sleep anyway.
Tang San turned and walked over to another hard plank bed.
On it, a middle-aged man was sleeping soundly, dead drunk and covered in unkempt stubble.
Though he was called middle-aged, he looked more like a slovenly old man who did not care about his appearance.
He was the Clear Sky Douluo who, more than two years ago, had arrogantly beaten Qian Xunji senseless before fleeing desperately from Qian Daoliu's pursuit for an entire month before finally escaping alive—Tang Hao, father of that little bastard Tang San.
Tang San bent down and took a deep breath. A heavy stench of alcohol and sweat immediately filled his nostrils.
Not only did he not find it unpleasant, he actually enjoyed it.
"Ah~~~ This is what a father's scent smells like!"
Tang San had been an orphan in his previous life and had never experienced the warmth of family.
Thus, he yearned desperately for familial affection, to the point of obsession—almost perversely so.
Having been reborn and finally gained a father, Tang San felt very fortunate.
Other than reincarnation itself, he felt that his father was the greatest gift Heaven had given him.
No matter