"Get up right now and come back with me!"
Qian Daoliu stood in front of the recliner, his face dark with exasperation as he stared at his unfilial son sprawled across it, sound asleep.
It had been a week!
The bastard's soul injury had healed ages ago!
Yet Qian Xunji simply refused to leave.
Today he was dizzy, tomorrow his legs were weak, the next day his chest felt tight, and the day after that his soul ached faintly—he came up with endless excuses, all to avoid taking a single step outside the Celestial Master Mansion.
At that moment, he was taking a "nap" in the recliner, a contented little smile on his lips. His breathing was even, and he slept as sweetly as could be.
Qian Daoliu had finally reached the end of his patience.
Qian Xunji blearily opened his eyes. Seeing his father's face, as black as the bottom of a pot, he instantly woke up a little, then "weakly" closed his eyes again and coughed twice.
"Cough, cough, cough... Father, my soul injury may have healed, but... I suffered a terrible fright!"
He thumped his chest as he spoke, his face deathly pale. His acting was so masterful that even he believed it.
"When that divine will of the Asura God fought back with all its might, my soul nearly scattered to the winds! Without a month or two of quiet rest, there's no way I can recover from that kind of mental trauma!"
Go back? Go back, my ass!
He ranted furiously to himself.
Dragon Tiger Mountain is such a wonderful vacation spot, with abundant spiritual energy and first-rate food—if I don't enjoy a proper vacation, wouldn't I be wasting this perfect chance to slack off?
As for that mountain of paperwork at Spirit Hall...
Qian