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One day, a month later, a servant rushed in, exclaiming, "Master, it's bad! The Young Master has wet his pants again!"
Before John could respond, another servant's voice followed closely behind, "Master, the Seven Young Master has been crying for some unknown reason!"
At the same time, a third servant came panting in, shouting, "Master! The Thirteen Young Master is crying out from hunger!"
Hearing these overlapping cries, John felt a wave of frustration wash over him but quickly replied, "I'm coming!"
He hurriedly changed the Young Master's diaper while simultaneously trying to prepare a bottle of formula for the Thirteen Young Master. At that moment, he looked haggard and worn out, his eyes bloodshot as if he had aged several years overnight. If three women could put on a good show together, then the scene surrounding John was akin to two grand performances featuring fourteen troublesome little ones.
He desperately wished for something—anything—to happen that would allow him to escape this chaotic household. Even charging into battle would be preferable to being overwhelmed by the children’s antics. The relentless cycle of caring for them day in and day out was driving John to the brink of madness.
After finally managing to calm down the mischievous little ones, just as John thought he could catch his breath, a sudden cry came from the next room: "Oh no! Master, it's bad! Lao Shisi has wet the bed again!"
With a helpless expression, John turned to look at the servant rushing over to help clean up the mess, sighing inwardly. It felt as if he would never run out of diapers to change or bottles to prepare, nor would he ever escape the endless cries of children. Faced with such chaos, John felt like he was suffocating and wondered when he would ever see the light at the end of the tunnel.
After attending to the last child, John felt utterly exhausted as if his body had fallen apart. He let out a long sigh and slowly exited the nursery filled with the scent of milk and noise. At that moment, all he wanted was a quiet place to rest.
Entering the dining room, John noticed his lunch had long gone cold on the table. Shaking his head in resignation, hunger overtook him as he began eating it like it was dinner. After all, there were only seven or eight servants in this castle, most of whom were women. As for the maids around him, he had no expectations that they would start working before fully recovering.
John wolfed down the dry bread and took a large gulp of sour wine. Thus concluded a simple and hurried dinner. After filling his stomach, he trudged toward the hammock in the garden, planning to take a good nap there to relieve his fatigue from the day.
However, just as he lay down on the hammock for a short while, faint cries of children reached his ears. At first, he thought it was merely an illusion caused by his exhaustion and ignored it as he turned over to continue sleeping. But the cries grew clearer and seemed to echo right beside him.
Startled, John instinctively flipped over and nimbly climbed down from the hammock. In an instant, a thick cloud of dark energy surged from nowhere and enveloped him tightly like a heavy fog. If human resentment could kill, then at that moment, the entire castle would have fallen into an eerie silence because John's anger and frustration had reached their peak.
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