Just when Zhao Cheng was feeling anxious and uneasy, the atmosphere in the room was not as sad as he had imagined.
Zhao Sheng sat on the edge of the bed, holding his wife Wang Yuqi's hand, and spoke tenderly about every detail of their seventy years of marriage.
Wang Yuqi was skinny and her face was covered with scary age spots.
At this time, she had fallen into a coma and could not hear what her husband said.
However, Zhao Sheng seemed to have no trace of sadness, and continued to speak slowly.
After an unknown amount of time, Wang Yuqi's hand suddenly moved slightly, her eyelids moved a few times, and she slowly opened her eyes covered with white spots.
Her eyes were dull, her gaze was scattered and confused, and she was a little panicked.
But after feeling her husband's withered old hands, Wang Yuqi immediately relaxed and a relieved smile appeared on her face.
"Brother Zhi Qin, I finally died before you. How great!" She murmured, her voice so weak and low that it was almost inaudible.
"Yes! From now on I will be the only one living alone. Well, I know you are afraid of loneliness." Zhao Sheng leaned close to her ear and said gently.
"Brother Zhiqin, you know me best. Do you remember how we first met?"
Zhao Sheng reached out to tuck the corner of the quilt into his wife's hand and chuckled, "How could you not remember? I used perfume to lure you and Yuyan here. To attract your attention, I even played the zither piece 'High Mountains and Flowing Water'."
"Ahem, I knew you had bad intentions. I was young and ignorant back then, so you easily tricked me."
"Do you regret it?"
"No regrets! Never regret!"
After saying this, Wang Yuqi's face suddenly turned unusually red, and her voice became clear again.
Zhao Sheng's heart tightened and he couldn't help but hold his wife's hand tightly.
He knew it was a last gasp.
Wang Yuqi suddenly turned her head and looked at Zhao Sheng with an extremely longing expression, saying expectantly: "Brother Qin, I want to hear you repeat the love poem you gave me back then."
At this moment, tears suddenly welled up in Zhao Sheng's eyes. His voice trembled slightly as he softly chanted, "The thin clouds are playing tricks, the flying stars are spreading hatred, the Milky Way is far away and dark. When the golden wind and jade dew meet, it is better than countless things in the world..."
After Zhao Sheng finished reading the love poem, Wang Yuqi seemed to have fulfilled her last wish. Her face quickly turned pale, her breathing almost stopped, and only the last trace of consciousness remained: "To Brother Qin, I suddenly miss home. I miss my grandparents, my father, my mother, and my sister Yuyan. I want to go back--"
Before she could utter the word "home", she suddenly and weakly let go of her husband's right hand and stopped breathing forever.
When Zhao Sheng saw his wife pass away, tears instantly blurred his eyes.
At this moment, he burst into tears.
When Zhao Sheng walked out of the house dejectedly, cries soon rang out throughout the Zhao Mansion.
A month later, Zhao Sheng boarded a carriage holding his wife's urn, watched by his son Zhao Chengle, grandson Zhao Xuanhan and others.
Then, driven by the Xiantian realm coachman, the carriage slowly started and began to drive towards Ganzhou of Liang State, more than 4,000 miles away.
…
Winter passed and spring came. In March, the peach blossoms on the peach trees in Nanyang City suddenly bloomed overnight.
The flowers are fragrant and the petals are falling in a colorful manner.
On the day when the people of Nanyang were celebrating the Peach Blossom Festival, a tattered carriage stopped in front of an old mansion.
Zhao Sheng had just gotten off the carriage when he saw seven or eight men armed with knives and swords suddenly surround him and shout at them, "No matter where you come from, get out! The Zhao family won't see any outsiders today!"
"Bold!"
Coachman Zhao Er learned everything from Zhao Sheng himself, and he respected Old Master Zhao like a god.
Seeing this, he took a step forward and shouted loudly, and the innate true energy mixed in the sound waves suddenly burst out.
The seven or eight men had their eardrums and cochleas shattered on the spot and collapsed to the ground.
"Ouch, why can't I get up!"
"Ah, I can't hear you!"
They screamed in agony and completely lost their balance. No matter how they struggled, they could not get up.
At this moment, the two middle-aged men in red clothes guarding the door of Zhao's mansion suddenly changed their expressions.
Unlike the ordinary scumbags in the underworld, those who came from the Blood Knife Sect could tell at a glance the origin of the ordinary man who looked like a coachman.
This person turned out to be a rare innate master in Ganzhou, and was at the same level as the Blood Knife Ancestor.
Seeing that things were not going well, the two Blood Knife Sect disciples were about to run towards the Zhao Mansion.
Unexpectedly, at this moment, a thin, white-haired old man with a broken arm suddenly appeared between the two of them.
Immediately afterwards, a force as heavy as a mountain pressed down on them, and the two were completely suppressed in an instant, unable to move at all, as if they were insects frozen in amber.
Fortunately, this terrifying aura came and went quickly!
The two men quickly regained their freedom, but neither of them dared to move, let alone inform the Blood Knife Ancestor of the news.
"I ask you, what happened in the Zhao Mansion? Who are you?" Zhao Sheng asked the two after putting away his innate pressure.
The two men didn't dare to hide anything and quickly confessed, "We are all disciples of the Blood Blade Sect. However, we have absolutely no ill intentions. It was the Blood Blade Patriarch who wanted to take the Third Young Master of the Zhao Mansion as his disciple, so he came to the Zhao Mansion in person. We are simply guarding the door to prevent outsiders from disturbing us."
"Accepting a disciple?"
Zhao Sheng frowned and thought to himself, "If he really wanted to take in a disciple, he wouldn't have gone to such trouble."
At this moment, the coachman Zhao Er suddenly came over and said, "Old Master, judging by the way he's using his sword, I'm afraid that Blood Knife Patriarch has come with ill intentions! Do you want me to send him off first?"
"Need not,"
After saying that, Zhao Sheng walked into the ancestral home he had not returned to for fifty years.
At the same time, the atmosphere in the reception hall of the Zhao Mansion was extremely heavy.
At the head of the hall sat a ruddy old man with a long, beautiful beard. Although he was over fifty, his hair was still jet black and his face was wrinkle-free, clearly demonstrating his mastery of health preservation.
On the left and right armchairs in the lobby, the four people sitting on the left were the elders of the Zhao family, and there were only two people sitting on the right.
At the top was an old man wearing a long red robe, with a bald head and a dove-like face. He was extremely tall and had a ferocious look.
This person is Chang Meng, the Blood Knife Patriarch who has been a powerful figure in the Ganzhou martial arts world for half a century.
Sitting below him was an old Taoist priest with a youthful face and white hair, holding a whisk.
Behind them stood a row of red-robed disciples from the Blood Blade Sect. Their temples bulged high, and it was clear at a glance that each of them was a rare first-rate master in the martial arts world.
Perhaps growing impatient, the Blood Knife Patriarch suddenly asked in a gloomy tone, "What have you, the Zhao family, considered? When will I be able to meet my beloved disciple?"
After hearing this, the old man with a beautiful beard smiled and said, "Grandmaster Chang, it is a blessing for my Zhao family that you can accept Jie'er as your disciple. It's just unfortunate that Jie'er went to visit his great-aunt two days ago and hasn't returned yet. Otherwise, when he comes back, I will let Jie'er take the initiative to become a disciple of the Blood Blade Sect. Is that okay with you?"