Cultivation begins with the mysterious little tripod

In Wangjiabao, Wang Qinglian and Wang Guangzu, who had been hesitating for several days, became increasingly anxious. They could no longer contact the great-grandfather after he disappeared.

If they had not seen the great-grandfather's great magical powers, they would have suspected that he was harmed by the evil man.

Until this day, the siblings suddenly saw a wisp of black air coming out of their father's body lying on the bed, and then dissipated, and then they realized that the great-grandfather had succeeded.

"Father's face has become rosy."

"Haha... He is worthy of being an immortal!"

The two were overjoyed. Wang Qinglian was serious and quickly gave orders to send people to check on the situation of other direct descendants who were infected with blood diseases. In a moment, a servant came back with a message.

All the direct descendants of the family who were infected with blood diseases have returned to normal.

At this moment, Wang Qinglian understood.

The blood disease that had plagued the Wang family for nearly a hundred years disappeared, and the "ghost air" that was deeply hidden in the blood of the direct descendants of the Wang family and absorbed the life span completely disappeared.

The entire Wangjiabao suddenly became noisy and joyful. Although most people didn't know what happened, the fatigue of being pressed down by a mountain disappeared the moment before, and the feeling of fullness of blood and qi was unmistakable.

And Wang Qinglian also hurriedly issued a series of orders, but at this moment, a plain but familiar voice suddenly echoed in her and her brother's ears:

"I have completely eradicated the disease of the Wang family, and I will never be infected again in the future. You can tell the head of the Wang family about my existence, and don't tell anyone else. Although I am a cultivator, I also have many powerful enemies. As long as you don't leak the news, the Wang family can survive."

"Take care of yourself."

After these words, Wang Fu's voice stopped abruptly, as if he had already drifted away and disappeared.

Wang Qinglian and Wang Guangzu, brother and sister, looked at each other, but they looked at each other for a long time.

It was not until a moment later that the latter sighed and said with a sense of loss:

"It seems that our Wang family's great-grandfather has really left. At least he left us some treasures to protect the family."

"Ouch!"

But as soon as he finished speaking, he was slapped on the head. It was Wang Qinglian who glared at him fiercely and scolded:

"Stinky boy, don't be rude."

"The great-grandfather solved the century-old problem for us. This is already the greatest favor. Father can also recover. What other treasures do we pray for?"

"Hehe, sister is right." Wang Guangzu rubbed his head and smiled embarrassedly. Then he wanted to say something, but then he noticed a slight movement on the bed.

A somewhat weak middle-aged man's voice slowly sounded.

"What's wrong..."

"Dad..."

The brother and sister were overjoyed when they heard this.

Half a month later

The recovered Wang family patriarch Wang Shengdong led his favorite daughter and son to the Wang family's forbidden area, the secret room of the ancestor "Wang Qiu".

The Wang family patriarch obviously knew more secrets. After listening to his daughter Wang Qinglian's explanation, he thought carefully for several days and decided to report to the ancestor.

After calling several times without success, the three pushed open the door of the secret room.

There were not many changes in the secret room, but the ancestor could not be seen. There was only a letter written by Shengdong himself, placed on the table in the secret room.

...

The ancestor of the Wang family disappeared, but two new shops opened in Fuyao Town.

A blacksmith shop and a calligraphy and painting shop.

The two shops were next to each other, and the two shop owners looked very similar, as if they were a pair of brothers.

The owner of the blacksmith shop is a middle-aged man who looks to be in his thirties or forties, while the owner of the calligraphy and painting shop is much younger. No one knows where they came from or what their real names are. They only know that the young and gentle owner is called Wang Da and the owner of the blacksmith shop is called Wang Er.

Every day when the sun rises, the doors of the two shops open almost at the same time, and the owner of the blacksmith shop, Wang Er, will start to light the stove and make farm tools.

While the owner of the calligraphy and painting shop, Wang Da, will light a fire in front of the earthen stove to cook. Only when the porridge is cooked and pickles are taken out, will Wang Da and Wang Er get together, sit at the wooden table, and share breakfast.

"Brother, this farm tool looks simple, but why is it so difficult to make it?" The owner of the blacksmith shop wiped the sweat from his forehead, picked up the porridge, and slurped it up, occasionally adding some pickles, but he ate it very deliciously, with a smile on his face.

"It's not that easy. My father became a famous stonemason in the area. It took decades of experience to master his craft. You've only been doing it for a few days." The young owner of the calligraphy and painting shop smiled and picked up a pottery bowl to eat white porridge with pickles. Compared with the owner of the blacksmith shop, his movements were much more gentle.

"Yes, haha... I'm a little impatient." Wang Er scratched his head and smiled.

"If you want to make a finished product earlier, you might as well go to the old Li blacksmith shop at the west end of the town to observe and learn, which is better than working behind closed doors." Wang Da raised his head, his young face calm and wise.

"Well, it's not good for me to steal the master's skills, and if Old Li knew that I learned so much to steal his business, I'm afraid he would hate me." Wang Er was a little moved, but a little hesitant.

"As long as the silver is enough, this is not a problem." Wang Da laughed.

"That's right, brother, lend me some money." Wang Er's eyes lit up, and then he put down his bowl and chopsticks and stretched out his hands to Wang Da who was standing across the wooden table.

Wang Da shook his head, not intending to help at all. He said without raising his head:

"I paid for your shop and the tools for forging. Don't think of asking me for money again. Find a way yourself."

"But I have to remind you that a mortal's life span is seventy or eighty years, and you only have half of your life. It's still a long way to make up for your sins and mistakes by forging farm tools."

Hearing this, Wang Er's face immediately drooped, revealing a bitter smile.

"Brother, don't worry, I will complete it." But in just a moment, he smiled again.

These two people are naturally Wang Fu and Wang Yao, whose appearances have changed a little.

When worshiping the villagers, Wang Fu felt something in his heart and chose a path for Wang Yao, a mundane path without fighting and killing, and without hatred and resentment.

As for the atonement of sins in Wang Fu's mouth, it is not only for Wang Yao, but also for him. He also wants to make up for the family affection and companionship that the two brothers have lost for more than a hundred years.

After breakfast, Wang Yao continued to forge iron.

He made a hoe, but because he had no experience, the final product was a strange-looking tool with an uneven blade.

Seeing next door, Wang Fu couldn't help but smile strangely.

Then he laughed loudly and laughed unscrupulously for a while.

Wang Yao saw this and smiled at each other.

People passing by watched for a while and pointed at the two brothers.

In the following days, Wang Yao worked as a blacksmith and occasionally left the blacksmith shop alone and disappeared. He was gone for most of the day. Wang Fu naturally knew that his brother went to the west of the town to learn from him.

Not to mention, Wang Yao really succeeded in learning from him. After more than half a month, he finally made the first complete hoe by himself.

Wang Yao excitedly took it to Wang Fu to ask for credit, and Wang Fu also praised it.

At this time, Wang Fu, who had been grinding ink for more than half a month, finally started to paint.

He painted the hoe.

Stroke by stroke, Wang Fu gradually saw the appearance of Wang Yao when he was a child more than a hundred years ago in the painting, the little pudding who chased after him and shouted "brother" and "brother".

It seemed that in this brush and ink, he returned to the past, to the village with a huge sycamore tree at the entrance.

Unconsciously, the spiritual power in Wang Fu's body began to circulate on its own, and his soul also flowed with it. A trace of spiritual consciousness and spiritual power gathered together, followed the brush and ink, and merged into the paper.

After an unknown period of time, under Wang Fu's slow brushstrokes, a scroll that looked like a simple painting of a hoe was completed.

Wang Fu looked at his masterpiece and recalled the feeling just now. It was like drawing a talisman, and both his spiritual consciousness and skills had improved a little, especially the former, which made Wang Fu's heart palpitate.

He couldn't help but smile.

"Perhaps, this is also a way."