The First Lesson Was Parting; the Future Goal Was Blacksmithing

After Qin Rang was buried, those he had helped came to his door one by one.

Some people brought rice, some brought two pieces of dried cured meat, and some just came to kowtow and left silently.

Many people wept, but Qin Wangchuan did not.

Having lived two lives, and with his previous memories flashing by so quickly, he felt something, but not much.

To outsiders, this appearance appears numb, or even resilient.

They couldn't offer any words of comfort to the poor child.

Most of the time, they would just come over, pat you on the shoulder, give you a hug, sigh, and then turn and leave.

As the visitors left one by one, the house suddenly became empty.

Only then did Qin Wangchuan have time to truly see his home.

His gaze swept over the memorial tablets—two wooden plaques stood side by side.

The one on the right is older, with mottled paint, and is engraved with "The Spirit Tablet of My Late Mother, Lady Liu of the Qin Family".

The one on the left is newer, with a bright paint color, and is engraved with "Memorial Tablet of My Late Father, Qin Rang".

The two wooden plaques are placed side by side, like the road they couldn't walk side by side in life, but finally stand side by side in death.

A bowl of rice, a pair of chopsticks, and a dish of pickled vegetables were placed in front of the memorial tablet.

This is the rule: even if someone leaves, the food must continue.

His gaze shifted from the spirit tablet to the room.

Because of her mother's early death, the house didn't have many warm or decorated items.

Everything is about practicality.

In the center of the main room is a square table and four long benches.

There were several burn marks on the table, left by Qin Rang when he was drinking.

An old wooden cabinet stood in the corner, its doors not closing properly, revealing a folded piece of coarse cloth clothing.

An oil lamp sat on the windowsill, its wick blackened from burning.

Next to it was a wooden comb with missing teeth.

It was left by my mother and has never been touched.

Qin Wangchuan walked out of the main room and into the backyard.

The backyard wasn't big, and it was piled with some miscellaneous items.

The chopped firewood was stacked in the corner, covered with a layer of ash.

Next to it was an abandoned stone mill, with moss growing on the millstone.

These things haven't been touched in a long time.

Qin Rang was away from home most of the year, while Qin Wangchuan always ate out.

After doing it many times, he even became familiar with several roadside vendors.

He stood there for a while, then turned and walked towards the front yard.

The front yard should be larger, since it's the storefront.

There was a Jujube Tree in the yard, its trunk crooked and twisted, but its leaves were a bright green.

Qin Wangchuan looked up and saw that the branches were bare, without a single fruit.

This Jujube Tree hasn't borne fruit in a long time.

He suddenly remembered a night in autumn one year.

Qin Rang stood under the tree, head tilted back, motionless.

The moonlight shone on his dark face, and Qin Wangchuan saw—he was crying.

Silently, tears streamed down her cheeks.

He later learned that his mother had chosen the house.

She liked the Jujube Tree and said that when it bore fruit, she would pick some to make candied fruit and share it with her neighbors.

When Qin Rang bought this place, the Jujube Tree weren't as big as they are now, let alone bearing fruit.

He thought that one day they would get married.

More than a decade has passed in a flash.

Before we even saw the fruit, the person was gone.

Qin Wangchuan stood in front of the tree, his thoughts pulling him back from his memories.

Close your eyes and gently feel the breeze on your skin.

"Although it's rare, I can still feel the Spiritual Qi of this world."

"Get some materials and draw a few Gathering Spirit Talisman; they might come in handy."

"If only we had Spirit Gathering Formation..."

He paused here, then shook his head helplessly.

He had never studied formations.

"This perfectly illustrates the saying—'You wish you had more knowledge when you had time to learn it, but you'll regret not having enough when you need it.'"

He opened his eyes and stretched out a big yawn.

Although this body no longer possessed the power to Move Mountains and Fill Seas, it showed no signs of discomfort.

It was as if he had always been a mortal, never changing.

Why would you have this idea?

Qin Wangchuan looked down at his palm, lost in thought.

He then realized it—

This sense of bewilderment may be precisely what the Ten Lives Trial are trying to express.

When a person loses all their power, can they still recognize who they are?

"Hello!"

A voice from outside the door interrupted my thoughts.

Qin Wangchuan turned his head and saw Wen Zhaoer.

She walked in with her hands behind her back, her eyes scanning him up and down as if she were looking at something new.

Qin Wangchuan leaned against the tree and gave him a look that said, "Stop pretending."

"Eighth Sister."

Her eyes darted around for a moment, then she denied it:

Who is your Eighth Sister?

If what happened earlier was just a test, then now Qin Wangchuan is certain—

Eighth Sister did indeed come with me.

"Stop pretending."

"I don't want to play house with you here."

Qin Zhaoer neither denied nor confirmed it.

She simply continued walking forward, getting closer to Qin Wangchuan, and suddenly said, "My old mother asked me to invite you to my house for dinner."

"How so?"

Have a meal.

The Wen Household lived next door and usually took good care of him.

Qin Wangchuan thought for a moment and nodded, "Okay."

"Everything is ready, let's go now."

Qin Zhaoer led the way with her hands behind her back.

If you ignore her personality, she actually has a pretty girlish charm.

Unfortunately, it cannot be ignored.

This time, however, perhaps because Qin Wangchuan revealed her identity, she didn't say anything extra and instead fell into an eerie silence.

After walking a few steps, she suddenly asked without turning her head, "What are you planning to do next?"

"Become Martial Practitioner, and then Cultivator?"

Qin Wangchuan shook his head. "No."

He knew better than anyone that becoming stronger was the foundation of everything.

But before arriving in this world, Qin Wangchuan had already figured out what was most important right now.

"I want to be a blacksmith."

"Blacksmith?"

Qin Zhaoer turned around in surprise, glanced at him, and seeing his determined gaze, said nothing more, only muttering, "You don't know how, and there's no blacksmith in our village."

"Brother Jiang 'Eldest Brother martial arts school has someone who knows this skill; I'll go and become his apprentice in a few days."

Does this make sense?

"Being a blacksmith doesn't really suit your personality."

Qin Wangchuan tilted his head and asked, "What kind of personality do I have?"

Qin Zhaoer held out one hand and counted on her fingers. "Flamboyant, dazzling, invincible..."

She paused, then broke off the last finger.

"Anyway, it has nothing to do with blacksmiths."

Saying this is tantamount to admitting guilt.

Wen Zhaoer is Qin Zhaoer.

But Qin Wangchuan already knew this, and upon hearing this, he simply shook his head and chuckled.

"Invincible?"

"Right now, I'm nothing but a defeated opponent."

"Starting as an ordinary person, starting as a blacksmith, is nothing to regret."

Qin Zhaoer listened without speaking for a long time.

Finally, she uttered a Resentment Qi remark. "Whatever."

He paused, then quietly added in his mind:

Anyway, I'll stay with you.

Although I don't know what happened.

Although he has lost his cultivation.

But she quite liked the idea of the two of them being alone together for a lifetime.

Upon arriving at the Wen Household, Qin Wangchuan was warmly received by Mr. and Mrs. Wen.

Several dishes of home-style cooking were laid out on the table, along with a bowl of braised pork and a bowl of egg drop soup.

Wen's mother kept putting food on his plate, while Wen's father drank his wine and muttered to himself:

"Eat more, you're too thin."

Halfway through the meal, a sudden commotion arose outside.

Mr. Wen put down his chopsticks, said "I'll go take a look," and got up to walk out.

After a while, he returned with a strange expression, walked to Qin Wangchuan's side, and whispered:

"Qin Chuan, come out here for a moment."

Qin Wangchuan followed him outside.

Dusk had fallen, and five or six people were standing at the door, the leader being Old Yang, the village chief of Willow Creek Town.

He had a white beard, a slightly hunched back, but bright eyes.

Several men stood behind him, carrying lanterns, their faces flickering in the firelight.