Zhao Rong was refreshed by the scolding.
He glanced out the window, only to see that the lights in the west wing had gone out; little Qian'er and Su Qingdai must have already fallen asleep.
So, the young Confucian Scholar, while listening to a certain sword spirit's repetitive curses, went to close the window.
Zhao Rong returned to the table, sat down casually, and waved his hand, saying:
"Alright, alright, stop scolding, take a break."
"I have to scold, you just deserve it!"
"Fine, then scold later. By the way, sir, I ask you, how's my cultivation technique at Yuyao Realm coming along? Before you took a lazy nap, didn't you say there was some content you needed to recall? Though I'm not sure what sleep has to do with remembering, you said it, so I'll accept it."
The sword spirit snorted twice, "Oh, Young Master Zhao has reached the Yuyao Realm and sounds different; I almost feel unworthy of you."
