My System Is Three Thousand Years Early

Shenyong Duke Qiao Zhongqin nodded and took a deep breath, "I have learned my lesson, Mr. Cheng is indeed formidable, with a proper method to raising his son."

Cheng Zhihai slightly nodded his head, and as he passed by a shop, he saw some pastries for sale that Cheng Guang usually enjoyed eating. After contemplating for a moment, he said,

"Zhongqin, you go back first. I will buy something."

Shenyong Duke Qiao Zhongqin looked puzzled, "Are you buying pastries? The ones Princess Yuemei usually likes aren't from this shop, though."

Cheng Zhihai smiled, "These are the ones Guanger likes."

Upon hearing this, Shenyong Duke Qiao Zhongqin was momentarily dumbfounded. "Mr. Cheng, didn't you say that only through discipline can one succeed? Why are you still buying pastries?"

Cheng Zhihai looked helpless, "That's what I'm saying. Your son, Qiao Songshan, doesn't listen to you, does he? There must be rewards as well as punishments. Go back and think it over."

With that, Cheng Zhihai, carrying the pastries, leisurely walked toward Duke Zhen's Mansion.

Shenyong Duke Qiao Zhongqin stayed where he was, his dark face contorting slightly before he entered the shop and came out with a pile of pastries.

His complexion revealed a thoughtful look as he pondered,

"That damn son of mine usually likes to follow the Princely Heir around. If the Princely Heir likes these pastries, he probably does too."

"Having him eat while crying is surely going to be effective."

Thinking this, Shenyong Duke Qiao Zhongqin got excited and quickly returned to his mansion.

Shortly after,

a voice filled with joy rang out,

"Dad, you are so nice, buying me pastries. These must be expensive, I see my older brother eating them often."

Then, suddenly, the sound of a whip cracking echoed.

Inside, there was silence for a moment.

It seemed as though the person had become stupefied.

"You little brat! Your cultivation has been in vain! You didn't stand out in the martial competition, and your mind isn't any better! You embarrassed me, making your Uncle Wang Chang laugh at me!"

"You better practice diligently, either improve your cultivation or fix your brain!"

"But Dad, how the hell do I 'fix' my brain? I'm not stupid!"

"I don't care! If you don't breakthrough to the Prime God Realm, then don't even think about leaving home!"

In the meantime, there was another round of chaos.

At this time, Cheng Zhihai had no idea that his casual remarks had plunged a father and son into a scene of tender affection and fierce scolding.

Cheng Zhihai walked at a leisurely pace into Duke Zhen's Mansion and went directly to the Million Specie Garden.

Recently in the Million Specie Garden, Cheng Guang asked Song Yunqi to gather some intelligence on the surrounding slaves, planning to search on his own for Zhang Shunlong, the True Sun Martial God.

According to the information provided by the task, the True Sun Martial God Zhang Shunlong was still just a slave at this time.

But timelines were uncertain, and it was possible that he had an epiphany, quickly advanced his cultivation, and left his life of slavery.

Or perhaps he had not yet had his epiphany.

Regardless, attempting to find Zhang Shunlong right now was like searching for a needle in a haystack for Cheng Guang.

But he was not in a hurry.

After all, Zhang Shunlong was still in Great Zhou, and unlike his future reclusive life, it was undoubtedly much simpler for him now to complete the task compared to the moment the system had issued it.

Sooner or later, he would be able to find Zhang Shunlong. It was just a matter of time being sooner or later.

As Cheng Guang was flipping through the documents, Cheng Zhihai appeared quietly in the courtyard.

Looking into the bedroom where Cheng Guang was reading a book, a sense of pride and tenderness flashed through Cheng Zhihai's authoritative eyes.

He thought, perhaps it was due to such diligent efforts that Guanger had found the whereabouts of the crown prince.

If it hadn't been for Guanger, he might have had to expend much more effort to connect the crown prince with the King of South Ming.

Cheng Guang hadn't noticed Cheng Zhihai's presence and continued to flip through his book, while Qing Luan standing behind him did notice.

Just as Qing Luan was about to greet Cheng Zhihai with a bow, Cheng Zhihai raised a finger to his lips and affectionately stood beside Cheng Guang, looking at the intelligence materials he was examining.

Looking at the slave records Cheng Guang was perusing, Cheng Zhihai became curious.

What was Guanger looking at?

These were mere slave records; what was there to see?

Not giving it much thought, Cheng Zhihai watched for a while and, seeing that Cheng Guang had not yet noticed him, he deliberately coughed to get his son's attention.

Cheng Guang, hearing the noise, turned to find Cheng Zhihai standing behind him unexpectedly and chuckled, "Dad, when did you get here?"

Cheng Zhihai produced the pastries from his hand and smiled, "I brought you something to eat."

Upon hearing this, Cheng Guang looked up at the sky.

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

"I just finished eating."

Hearing this, Cheng Zhihai became somewhat flustered, standing still, holding the box of pastries, at a loss for what to do.

To elicit such an expression from Cheng Zhihai, the stern and impartial Director of the Bureau of the Lamp, revered by countless court officials, was something perhaps only Cheng Guang in all of Sky-Man could manage.

Seeing this, Cheng Guang didn't let his father feel awkward; he took the box of pastries from Cheng Zhihai and laughed, "Alright, Dad, put it down. If I get hungry, I'll have some more."

Cheng Zhihai quickly nodded, "If you're hungry, have some. Don't worry about what your mother says about you gaining weight. It's fine for a man to be a bit stout."

"But don't overeat, though."

Cheng Guang nodded.

Cheng Zhihai, somewhat embarrassed, scratched his head, unsure of what to say to his son next.

There is often an awkward silence between father and son.

After a moment of silence, Cheng Zhihai, at a loss for words, left as though he had cloistered himself.