The mysteries brought by Qingtian have been lingering in Xiang Sheng's heart.
However, speculation is just speculation after all and cannot be verified, so there is no point in thinking too much about it.
Xiang Sheng quickly gathered his thoughts, waved his sleeves and re-established the restriction to conceal the existence of the blood fetus.
The body nurtured by witchcraft means would not have weak spiritual roots, at least of medium quality. She nurtured it with her own nine hearts and watered it with the pure energy from the earth's core. In addition to speeding up the nurturing process, she also intended to improve the physical fitness of the new body as much as possible.
Now that she can temper a perfect body, she naturally wants it very much and doesn't mind waiting a little longer.
Xiang Sheng's life became peaceful again.
Every day at noon, she opened the door to her calligraphy studio and began painting at the table. Occasionally, she would receive a customer and do some casual business. After noon, she would rest for a while and then continue painting until nightfall, when she turned off the lights and went to sleep.
Work at sunrise and rest at sunset.
This was the method she had figured out over the past year. The more it suited the mortal state of mind, the clearer her understanding of the years became.
And so it goes, day after day, year after year.
Xiang Sheng's heart became more and more peaceful, and he was almost a completely different person from the ruthless person he was when he was wandering in the world of cultivation many years ago.
The years fell on her shoulders, lingering and growing stronger.
Under such special care, Xiang Sheng no longer needs to make any changes deliberately. His face is aging with time, even faster than that of ordinary people.
Widow Wang felt something was wrong and dragged Xiang Sheng to the clinic several times.
Doctor Lin couldn't diagnose anything, so he could only prescribe more medicine for Xiang Sheng to replenish his body.
"Don't worry, Auntie. I'm fine." Xiang Sheng smiled and comforted Widow Wang.
Widow Wang was worried, so she often brought some wild game hunted by blacksmith Chen.
After a while, seeing that Xiang Sheng was really fine, he felt a little relieved.
In the third year of Xiang Sheng's understanding of the years, he drank up the wine left by Luo Hai.
Wang Tuo went to Cuiweiju again and took a sip of the craft beer that he used to think was good, but found it tasteless.
Shengmei was completely immersed in her thoughts, and she might not even speak to him for a month. It seemed pointless to stay outside any longer...
Wang Tuo returned to the cat's nest, dug out the secret bead with his claws, and was about to go in when he suddenly stopped in mid-air.
He hesitated for a moment, but finally ran out, found Fengfeng, and played with her for the whole day.
The next day, he returned to the altar in the Demon King Valley, opened a sarcophagus, and lay down with hundreds of his fellow tribesmen.
"After waking up from this sleep, my cultivation should be able to surpass Sister Sheng's..."
Muttering something, Wang Tuo slowly closed his eyes.
The demonic power passed on to him by the old demon king was absorbed very slowly. Sleeping could speed up the absorption process.
However, he did not choose to fall asleep, but stayed with Xiang Sheng for fourteen years.
He himself couldn't tell whether he was afraid that Xiang Sheng would be too lonely or he was afraid of falling asleep.
…
It was not until the third day that Fengfeng discovered that Wang Tuo was no longer with Xiang Sheng.
"Auntie Sheng, why is Uncle Wang missing?"
Xiang Sheng stopped writing, looked up at Feng Feng gently, and said, "He fell asleep."
"sleep?"
Fengfeng glanced at the empty cat bed and said, "Auntie Sheng, you must have said something wrong. Uncle Wang is not in the bed."
Xiang Sheng shook his head and said no more.
Fengfeng immediately thought of something, her eyes misting over, and she asked with a sob, "Where is Uncle Wang buried?"
Xiang Sheng sighed softly, "Even if you ask clearly, it will only add to your sadness. Why bother?"
No one knew how long Wang Tuo would sleep like this. To Fengfeng, it was the same as being dead.
"No, I want to ask!"
Fengfeng bit her lower lip, trying hard not to cry. "Auntie Sheng, can you tell me where it is? I want to go... to see it off."
Xiang Sheng was silent for a moment, then stood up and led Feng Feng to a small mound in the backyard.
This is the tomb Wang Tuo built for himself before he fell asleep.
When Fengfeng saw the tombstone, she could no longer hold back the sadness in her heart and ran out crying.
This was Fengfeng's first life-and-death separation. After returning home, she cried for three whole days. It was not until the fourth day that she continued to practice sword with swollen eyes.
All the emotions she released through sword practice seemed to have caused a slight change in her swordsmanship.
It was just such a slight change that no one noticed.
Time flies.
In a blink of an eye, another six years have passed.
During these six years, Xiang Sheng's face aged faster. Her eyes became cloudy, her body became hunched, her hair turned gray, and her face had even more wrinkles than Widow Wang.
The vicissitudes of life emanated from her body. Although Fengfeng had witnessed the entire aging process, every time she saw it, she still couldn't believe that the once beautiful Aunt Sheng had become like this in just nineteen years.
Doctor Lin once diagnosed that Aunt Sheng was suffering from premature aging and would die earlier than Dad.
Whenever she thought of this, Fengfeng couldn't help but feel sad.
After nineteen years of living together day and night, she had already regarded Aunt Sheng as a relative, so how could she bear to let her go?
…
This day happened to be the ninth year that Xiang Sheng had been tempering his clone.
Heavy snow fell in Dushui City again, just like the first winter day many years ago.
Xiang Sheng came to the inner room with a cane, looking at the blood fetus floating in the air, a sense of naturalness arose from the bottom of his heart.
A gleam of light flashed across her cloudy eyes.
Just now, she sensed that the tempering of the blood fetus had finally reached a certain limit and could no longer be improved.
Is this the perfect body?
Nine hearts, nine years of tempering...
It just happened to be the ninth extreme, and it seemed as if all this had been predetermined.
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