At the foot of Iron Ridge Mountain, the Jiang family has been forging iron for generations.
The soul of an ancestor is sealed in that ancestral anvil.
Each time it is awakened, the ancestor dissipates a little bit.
When Jiang Huaiyuan was seven years old, he touched an anvil for the first time.
An old voice came from the anvil:
"... Finally."
From then on, a family of mortal blacksmiths embarked on the road of cultivating immortality by forging weapons.
Three thousand years, thirty generations.
Each generation carves a mark on the anvil.
Until the last person discovered——
Under the anvil, the first line left by Jiang Huaiyuan was engraved:
"The person who casts the vessel uses his body as fuel and his soul as fire. When the vessel is completed, where will the soul go?"
The family cultivates immortality, inherits the portraits, and has a history of three thousand years of blood and tears.
Don't rely on golden fingers, but rely on generations of people to fill it with their lives.
