"Xiong Shaoqing, just you wait. The day I return from hell will be the day you die."
Seeing the look in his son's eyes turn utterly dark, Tang Hao nodded slightly.
Ah Yin, our son has grown up.
Spirit Hall, and everyone standing in our way, will eventually pay for their arrogance.
Early the next morning, sunlight shone brightly over the inner courtyard of the Spirit City Imperial Villa, and the breeze was just right.
It should have been an excellent time for devoted cultivation, yet the scene in the courtyard exuded boundless extravagance.
A broad, soft chaise longue stood in the middle of the flower garden.
Xiong Shaoqing lay comfortably on it, his head resting on Zhu Zhuqing's astonishingly springy, long, beautiful legs as he enjoyed the Hell Spirit Cat's rare "lap pillow" service.
On his left, Xiao Wu resembled an obedient little wife as she held a peeled grape between her slender fingers and fed it into his mouth.
On his right, Ning Rongrong had rolled up her sleeves and was kneading his shoulders with just the right pressure, using those delicate hands that had spent years playing zithers.
Yet beside this picture of blissful lovers stood one utterly out-of-place, put-upon soul.
Hu Liena, the distinguished Holy Maiden of Spirit Hall, stood beside them with a dark expression on her pretty face, holding a large palm-leaf fan she had found somewhere and fanning him through gritted teeth.
"Stop, stop, stop."
Chewing his grape, Xiong Shaoqing frowned and waved dismissively. "Your Highness, your fanning technique is completely wrong. The wind is too harsh. It has no soul."
"I want the gentle feeling of 'a willow breeze that brushes the face without a chill.' With all that whooshing, are you waving the Plantain Fan to put out the Mountain of