On a rainy night, it's in Qingzhu Mountain.
Big raindrops hit Xu Zhao with a bang, and the muddy water mixed with the fallen leaves, making his face a mess.
He was bending his waist and sweeping the floor one after another. In his heart, he cursed all the eighteen generations of Wang Dahu's family.
"Baby, what are you pretending to be here?"
Wang Dahu's fist was like a casserole, and it hit Xu Zhao on the back.
Xu Zhao suddenly lost his balance, threw himself forward and fell to the ground, and the broom in his hand flew far away with a whoosh.
"Master Hu... I, I'm sweeping..." Xu Zhao said cautiously, not even daring to raise his head.
"Sweeping? You also call this sweeping? I think you are just playing in the mud here!" Wang Dahu spat and pointed towards the back mountain, "The spiritual field in the back mountain is short of fertilizer. Today you carried these buckets of manure and water to water it! If you delay the harvest of the spiritual field, I will skin you!"
