The familiar tent ceiling, the familiar bed, the familiar sounds of ritual prayers, and the accompanying gentle breeze he knew so well.
With a hint of contentment in his heart, Wu Wang looked at the tent he had slept in since childhood, gazed at the precious mineral cores he had collected as toys during his childhood, looked at the two paintings he had idly created before, and saw…
The two clan girls lying on the Young Master's exclusive bed, blushing timidly yet filled with nervousness as they looked at him.
"Young Master…"
Wu Wang turned around sharply, nearly calling out for guards.
But as a faint whizzing sound emerged, a wooden stick drew a perfect parabola, striking Wu Wang's head with a speed that left no room for reaction.
This was followed by the two girls' silly laughter, causing Wu Wang to scowl deeply.
"Suqing!"
Wu Wang called out, casually casting an immobilization spell, and somewhat helplessly lifted the tent flap to go out.
