Refining Weapons Depends on One's Will, and Making Weapons Depends on Chance.

Zhang Qiuyi awakened as the lowest level assistant spiritual master, and the green light in the family test was as weak as a candle in the wind. Everyone laughed in an uproar, but she calmly finished the last bite of the spiritual fruit: "It's good, you don't have to practice." When everyone was waiting to see her abandoned by her family—— The overnight soup she randomly stewed actually repaired the broken soul of the guard captain. The useless spiritual weapon she refined blew up the genius martial arts master who was mocking her. The treasures of heaven and earth she picked up while strolling filled the family warehouse. Later, the entire Yifeng Continent went crazy: Boss, look at me, look at me.