Returning to the place where I have lived for the past year, the simple house feels extremely familiar and familiar.
The family sat around the small courtyard. There was the old father Zhao Fugui, the eldest brother Zhao Dalang, the second sister-in-law Yang Hua, and the third sister Zhao Tingting...
Different from the old tree at the east end of the village, Zhao Wujiang returned to this home and took out more things.
There are elixirs, books, even rouge gouache, some food, etc.
Zhao Wujiang babbled and introduced to these family members.
This elixir can prolong life and cure diseases in times of crisis.
The books include content about entering the realm of cultivation, and also content describing the vaster world. These books are prepared for the elder brothers Zhao Dalang and Zhao Wanghou.
The rouge gouache is given to several sisters and sisters-in-law, and they are all of the best quality.
This broadsword is a good weapon. It can be used by ordinary people with stronger strength. It can be used to protect oneself when in danger.
This long sword...
This spiritual fruit...
Zhao Wujiang continued to introduce, and the family members listened carefully. The brothers and sisters realized that this ninth brother was about to leave them and return to his own world.
The brothers and sisters had different expressions, some were excited, some were grateful, some were reluctant, some were regretful, some were excited...
Although Zhao Wujiang came to this world for only a day, he actually knew that he should have come to this world a year ago, but in a hazy state of consciousness.
The memories of this year all appeared in his mind one by one.
This Zhaojia Village is not big, but the village has yellow hair, chickens and dogs hear each other, and it is peaceful and peaceful.
He liked the place quite a bit, but he couldn't stay long.
He still has a lot to do.
Step into a higher level of cultivation, find your past companions, and take revenge on the Clay Bodhisattva Yue Bufan and others...
He has always kept these things in mind and must do them.
He left the collapsed world of the Great Xia Dynasty and came to this vaster world safely. It was not an end, nor a new beginning, but a continuation of all the past grudges and hatreds!
He also has more questions and wants to find answers.
How is the empress now?
How are Dugu Mingyue and her children doing? Is it a boy or a girl?
How many people are there in Su Huayi?
What kind of backhand does the oath between Yang Miaozhen and Zhao Wujiang's Taoist companion arranged by the fortune teller contain?
What price did Linlang pay for giving him the demon pill? Is everything okay now?
How did I come to this world safely in the first place?
Zhao Wujiang knew that in the face of doubts and unknowns, he could only go step by step and find the answer himself.
I travel all over the world, spending days and years.
Zhaojiacun is his first stop. He will leave, and maybe one day, he will return.
After Zhao Wujiang finished talking about everything to his brothers, sisters and Zhao Fugui, he stood up and bowed slightly to them:
"I'll say goodbye now. See you again when we are destined."
"Child, what's your name?" Village Chief Zhao Fugui's eyes trembled as he stared at the child he had picked up.
Zhao Wujiang smiled gently, with a gentle smile on his face, as gentle as jade, like the rising sun.
It seems that the collapse of his past, the suffering he suffered, and the separation of relatives and friends did not make him depressed or lose his smile.
After a thousand journeys, I am still a young man when I return.
He took a step back slightly. Under the moonlight, his body slowly dissipated like purple gauze mist, leaving only three words:
"Zhao Wuyang."
He did not tell the family who had been together for a year his true identity. When he was leaving, he just answered a name they were familiar with.
Maybe in the future, he won't have the chance to return to this small village, so let Zhao Wuxu, with his silly but innocent smile, stay in their hearts forever.
Looking at his silly son's gentle smile slowly dissipating under the moonlight, Zhao Fugui's nose felt sour when he heard this gentle "Zhao Wuhan".
The old man, who was over fifty years old, held his cheeks with his hands and his chest heaved.
Immortals and mortals are separated, and we will never see each other again.
