The afternoon sunlight slanted through the window onto the floor, filling the slightly empty room with the warmth of midsummer.
Lu Ping slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze lingered on the patterns of the ceiling for a moment before he realized he had slept straight through to the following afternoon.
The moment he shifted slightly, a faint but persistent soreness spread through every muscle in his body.
It felt like he had been forced to run a marathon with dozens of kilograms strapped to his back.
That was the aftermath of yesterday's nonstop high-intensity exertion.
He did not get up immediately.
Instead, he lay sprawled lazily across the bed, quickly taking stock of the absurd schedule he had endured since awakening his innate wisdom.
The past few days had felt as long as several years.
On the first night, beneath the department store, he had been forced to deal with the Caterpillar Cursed Spirit acting as his clone.
On the second night, he had only intended to make an appearance, yet had been forcibly dragged into the summer festival attack at Hoshimi Shrine.
By the third day, his schedule had become downright suffocating.
That morning, while following a lead, he had accidentally stumbled into the hidden base of those fanatical Pan Star Religious Group believers.
Before he had even finished his hot pot at noon, he had rushed into the wilderness that afternoon to support the emergency at Snakebone Village.
With such a packed schedule,
Even a production team's donkey would have written a complaint letter overnight.
Of course, everything had two sides.
That high-pressure environment of constantly testing the boundaries between life and death had indeed advanced his understanding of the underlying principles of cursed techniques by leaps and bounds.
His practical combat experience had also accumulated at a