March 26, Kim Hae Hong House.

It's just past lunchtime.

The ancestral hall opened its doors.

Rows of coffins had been resting inside for five days, and it was time for the funeral.

Hong Fan was dressed in plain white mourning clothes and gathered from each courtyard with other children who were responsible for carrying the coffin.

"My dad didn't close his eyes for the first two nights, and he was busy until the sun went down yesterday afternoon, when he had a little time."

Hongfu said, tightening the Suga straw shoes on his feet.

"Counting the number of seriously injured and dead after the war, there are more than 2,500 people lost, and the number of injured people is even more than three times."

"The City Defense Division has checked it and replaced at least 3,000 snake people, which can be regarded as a big victory."

Hong Fan sighed silently when he heard this.

The casualties in this battle were so heavy that he had already felt it before he heard the exact number.

Every family is clothed with linen, and every household wears filial piety.

There was not enough white cloth in the city for a while, and many people had to use gray cloth instead of gray cloth when they went out for funeral.

The two turned around the alley and saw that Hong Sheng was already waiting outside the ancestral hall.

After nodding to each other, they entered together.

There are seventeen coffins in the courtyard, all of which were victims of the Hong family's three battles in defending the city.

Every Hong Fan has at least met face-to-face, but most of them are not familiar with each other.

As the most prosperous family in Jinhai, the Hong family's death rate is not high.

As far as Hong Fan knows, the Li family's Wudang ride alone has lost half of it this time.

In the middle of the courtyard of the ancestral hall, there is the coffin of Hong Jian himself.

The boards are made of jujube wood, which is stocky and heavy, and it is said that it took a month of work by the best master of Gimhae.

It is carved with the sun and moon auspicious clouds on the left and right, and it took dozens of catties of tung oil to brush five times before and after, and after drying, it is tightly seamless, and the drip is impermeable.

This coffin was originally prepared by Hong Fei for himself, but he didn't expect it to be used by Hong Jian first.

Soon the hour was approaching, Hong Li was lame and holding a black cane, and arranged for everyone to carry the coffin out of the ancestral hall.

Hong Fan and Hong Sheng are naturally the leaders of the main coffin, and there are Hong Fu, Hong An and others behind them.

Seventeen coffins arrived at the main gate of Hongfu in turn.

Hong Jian's main coffin is covered with an outer coffin here - purchased from the Cui family, and the bottom of the coffin is six inches thick and extremely heavy.

Because it is too huge and heavy, it can enter the gate of the mansion but cannot enter the ancestral gate, so it has to be operated here.

The coffin is complete, and you can go out.

The main coffin was carried by sixteen people to show the rule.

Each coffin after that is six people.

Hong Fan crossed the threshold, and the drums sounded.

The hired mourning team also began to play.

Some people in the Hong family are rich, but they are only heirlooms with martial arts, even if people are extremely sad, most of them can't squeeze out a few tears.

In front of the team, there are "guides" planting pennants on both sides of the road, meaning to guide the soul on the road.

Hong Fan looked at these little messengers.

Many of them are half-grown children, and although they are serious, they are confused and do not fully understand what is going on.

Their parents are still there, like a curtain that hides the true face of death.

The funeral procession went smoothly all the way and went out of the city from the southeast gate.

Although the coffin is heavy, the people who carry the coffin are all warriors, and there is no need to "go over the shoulder".

The family tomb of the Hong family is in Taishan.

Along the way, I met four waves of funeral processions from other families returning to the city.

Half an hour later, everyone turned the first col and entered the boundary of Taishan.

Today's clouds are very heavy, and the sky seems to be covered with a veil, which is quite gloomy.

Because of this, the mountain is exceptionally green.

As the terrain got higher, the team entered the valley and began to climb uphill, but their feet were stronger.

The mountain breeze descends from the northeast along the ridge and stirs up waves in the sea of trees.

The world is in an uproar.

Hong Fan watched the wind and saw it move from the forest leaves on the left hand side to the sleeve of his mourning clothes, and then all the way up the grassy slope on the right hand side.

The higher the mountain, the deeper the valley.

In contrast, human death is even more insignificant.

The sound of mourning gradually thinned out.

The ancestral grave of the Hong family has arrived.

It is said to be a cemetery inherited from the great family, but compared with the cemetery in the previous life, there is no planning and infrastructure.

The place is half the size of a mountain, and most of the graves are made of bricks.

Hong Fan's biological mother moved over a month ago, and the same is true.

And the patriarchs of the past dynasties or those who have cultivated are nothing more than a little higher, and the surrounding ground is leveled and paved with stone slabs.

The burial pit to be used this time has been prepared in advance, and the shape is slightly different.

Compared to the status of the seventeen deceased, the ceremonies after their deaths are very similar.

Spread two thin bamboos to the bottom of the tomb, slowly push the wooden coffin in, and then remove the bottom of the tomb.

Then the relatives put a lantern made of soybean oil inside, put some grains and pancakes, and finally hung a bronze mirror.

The next step is to shovel dirt turf and seal the hole.

The relatives stepped forward in turn, each adding a handful of soil.

Incense and candles, paper money, mourning, gifts......

Seventeen coffins, disposed of one after the other.

In the past, no matter how glamorous or downcast, this time there is only a difference.

After a few rounds of practical operation, Hong Fan even felt that the first person who was buried might be more satisfied.

Because the number of times the people saluted was too much, it was inevitable that they would begin to become mere formalities and become perfunctory.

Until the sixteenth coffin was buried.

This time, it was the turn of the patriarch's youngest son, Hong Ping.

The inscription on the tombstone was engraved by Hong Sheng.

Then he lit incense and candles with his own hands, and added yellow paper to the fire one by one.

Hong Fan stood five paces away, staring at the flames and hearing a difficult choking sound.

A few steps away, Hong Chen's eyes were closed, clutching his chest, and he was shaking.

She has cried too much in the past few days, and when it came time to part, she only felt short of breath and couldn't shed tears.

"Madame, condolences."

Hong Fan stepped forward to support her forearm and persuaded.

"Brother Fan."

Hong Chen opened his eyes and spoke with difficulty.

"It's all my fault......"

"I shouldn't have listened to him in the first place, if I forced him to go to Xijing, how could I have this kind of experience?"

She wailed, her face bloodless, her lips trembling.

Hong Fan was silent.

The sharp teeth of the past are useless.

He suddenly remembered the wild boar that fell to the bottom of the valley when he was hunting, and the conversation with Hong Ping, and then his heart was gloomy.

At this time, Hong Fu on the side unexpectedly interjected.

"Big lady, Brother Ping'er's body was found in the corner of the city wall."

His voice was light and steady, like forged steel.

"When I found him, his armor was rotten; I counted it, and there were five cuts on my body. ”

"A foot-long strip in the middle split his stomach."

Hong Chen turned around and stared at Hong Fu angrily.

But the latter stared at her and stubbornly did not back down.

"Five wounds, eldest lady."

"Everything is on the front, nothing comes from behind."

Hong Fu said very seriously.

Hong Chen was silent.

"The little master is a kind."

I don't know who praised it.

Then, the originally perfunctory Zhuyi riders around also bowed to the grave one after another.

This time, it was from the heart.

However, Hung did not take any solace in the reactions of these people.

She pushed Hong Fan's arm away and half-squatted in front of Hong Ping's grave, bursting into tears.

It's as if it's not a son buried in it, but the rest of his life.

PS: It's the end of the month, and it's useless to keep the remaining monthly passes, so give them all.

After reading the chapters of several readers yesterday, I found that we have a difference in cognition, which needs to be specially explained.

In this book, the main character's golden finger (dragon soul tree) is not supreme, and it is not the same concept as other cerebral fantasy systems.

I certainly understand the benefits of the system.

The rhythm is convenient and can be used as a strong driving force for the plot, or to provide a natural breaking point for the protagonist......

But the system also has a negative effect.

Goldfingers with absolute regularity will make the worldview child's play, and make many of the efforts and achievements of the protagonist and supporting characters seem frivolous and stupid.

If the system is too powerful, the story will no longer be a struggle of "people", but a role-playing game of "system".

Therefore, it is explained here that whether it is Hong Fan's life star or the Dragon Soul Tree, they all have specific sources, although they are high, but they are not supreme, and there is no situation where they essentially crush the rest of the alien gods.

In addition, there is a setting that has never been put on the table, and I feel that it is necessary to mention it here.

There are limits in scope and power to the life plundering of the life star—there is no such thing as saying that if a martial saint dies in front of Hong Fan, he will rise to several great realms in a row.

Of course, this is actually conceivable, otherwise Ma Jingsha would not have reached the peak of innate for more than ten years.

(End of chapter)