Just as Jia Zhen was about to finish speaking, He Tiantian snapped a duster across Jia Zhen's face.
"Scoundrel!"
He Tiantian, with a look of disappointment as if hating iron for not becoming steel, scolded unceremoniously, "You unfilial son, while your old man is still residing at Xuanzhen Temple for cultivation, I don't even have my own place for quiet cultivation."
"You're talking about buying a mountain on the outskirts of the city and building a Taoist temple for your old man, yet you're thinking of building a garden for your cousin who lives next door?"
Jia Zhen:...
What's happening?
My own father has been cultivating at Xuanzhen Temple for over ten years and has never mentioned wanting to build another place for quiet cultivation.
Why is he using this matter as leverage now?
And directly calling him "unfilial"?
Ah, father, one shouldn't easily accuse one's son of such a crime—it could be fatal!
Jia Zhen felt incredibly wronged and also had a growing sense of dread.
