Tang San felt his mind reel in confusion as the suffocating aura of slaughter and frenzy finally receded like a tide. He slowly opened his eyes, his vision still somewhat blurred. The earth-shaking dragon roars and explosions from moments ago seemed to linger in his ears.
Before he could fully gather his senses, a fair little hand carrying a trace of "murderous intent" whipped through the air and smacked him without mercy.
Smack!
The crisp slap rang especially loud through the empty temple. It hurt like hell. Tang San's still-foggy mind was instantly jolted awake. Holding his cheek, where a red mark had already appeared, he looked up in bewildered grievance, only to find his wife's pretty face practically emblazoned with the words "not happy."
Xiao Wu planted both hands on her hips, her slender brows bristling, and glared at him. "Brother San, do you have any idea how long you've been sleeping? Our son's wedding is about to begin, and you're still lying here playing dead!"
"Wedding? Our son?" The barrage of information left Tang San dizzy. He rubbed his still-throbbing cheek and instinctively asked, "Huh? Sorry, Xiao Wu... you mean Wulin is getting married? To whom?"
The instant those words left his mouth, Tang San's expression changed. The majesty of the Sea God and Asura God had yet to fully fade from him, and now it mingled with a heavy dose of fatherly outrage. He sprang to his feet, his brows knitted tightly, looking as though he faced a formidable enemy—exactly as he had when Tang Wutong first wanted to date.
Clearly, as a father, he was deeply resistant to the idea of his son settling down and starting a family—a son who had been sensible since childhood yet endured so many hardships. After all, he had slept