Chapter 381 Lingtian (Thanks to the leader who flowed to reward him~)
There are hundreds of karma to practice Taoism.
The nine provinces are vast and the regional customs are different. Cultivators rely on the mountains to eat the mountains and water to eat water. They adapt to local conditions and make a living by all industries.
Spiritual farming and planting spiritual rice crops are one of the hundreds of industries of practicing Taoism.
Tongxian City is mountainous and has no arable land. The Linggu Lingji rice I eat is bought from a fairy city on the west where it makes a living by planting spiritual fields.
The ink painting has grown so big, and I have never seen such a large spiritual field in front of me.
To the south of Qianjia Town, there are many fields of spiritual fields and tic toe arrangements, about a hundred hectares.
In the spiritual field, there are green rice seedlings, filled with misty water.
The sky is high and the white clouds are wandering, the rice fields are abundant and wide, like an emerald carpet, spreading to the distance.
The intersection of the blue sky and the spiritual field in the distance are the mountains surrounded by clouds and mist.
Ink painting took a deep breath, the air was clear, the heart was refreshing, the eyes were slightly bright, and I suddenly realized something.
All things are born in nature, and the earth nourishes all things.
The sky is the manifestation of the great way, and the earth is the derivative of the great way.
And there are indeed traces of formations between these spiritual fields.
There are some hard earth and stones on the ridges of the Lingtian field, and there are formations on them.
But these formations are not absolute formations, they are just simple earth cultivation formations used to cultivate spiritual rice and accumulate water vapor.
The spiritual consciousness of the Mohua was released, and all he perceived were ordinary earth cultivation arrays, without special formation aura, which was a bit regretful.
So I thought about walking deeper and finding out.
There is a small path near Lingtian. Mo Hua walked along the small path for a while and suddenly frowned.
It was just morning, and the sun was bright and there was Lingnong working in the fields.
These Lingnongs are older than ever, their clothes are worn and covered with mud marks, their skin is dark and thin, and their fingers are rough and cracked.
They bent over, as if they were being pressed by something, and couldn't breathe.
In the bright sunset, in the vibrant spiritual field.
These hunched Lingnong, who were hunched and looked silly, seemed out of place.
Mo Hua sighed.
As he walked, he met an old man next to a spiritual field.
The old man should also be a Lingnong, dry and thin, with a hint of despair floating on his face as yellow as a wood-shaped one.
He was surrounded by a little grandson, and was also wiping tears with his dirty little hands.
Mo Hua couldn't bear it, so he asked:
"Mr., is there anything wrong?"
The old man turned his head dullly and saw a young monk with a pretty face and clear eyes. He tried to speak but stopped many times, and finally he could only sigh deeply:
"The field is broken again..."
The sound is full of bitterness and hardship.
Mo Hua was slightly stunned and asked worriedly:
"How can the field be broken?"
The old man pointed at the ridge of the field and said hoarsely:
"If the formation is broken, without the formation, the spiritual fields are barren and cannot hold water. The crops in the fields will dry up and there will be no harvest this year..."
At the end of the conversation, the old man had a faint sob in his voice.
Mo Hua turned his head and saw that there was indeed an earth cultivation array on the ridge of the field that had failed. There were only formation patterns on it, but there was no spiritual power flow.
Mo Hua breathed a sigh of relief. He thought it was a big deal...
It is just a mere six formation patterns of earth cultivation arrays.
"This formation is simple, I'll help you repair it." Mo Hua said.
The old man was stunned, "You...you know the formation?"
The child next to him was also staring at the ink painting.
Mo Hua nodded and said modestly: "I know a little bit."
"This formation is very difficult..."
"I just happened to learn it."
When the old man saw that Mo Hua was young, he was calm and confident, he believed it a little, but he was a little confused:
"If it breaks..."
"Isn't this broken?"
The old man was stunned and thought it was right. Anyway, it was broken and there was no other way, but the formation was related to livelihood, so he still couldn't let it go.
Hesitated, after several struggles, the old man seemed to have thrown his jar and said dejectedly:
"Little brother, you draw..."
He really had no other way.
Take out the ink painting and dip it in ink.
The old man looked slightly surprised. This little monk seemed to be quite good...
He couldn't help but show his expectations.
Then he saw Mo Hua walk to the edge of the field, hold the pen in his little hand, and scribble a few times, then raise his head and said to him in a crisp voice:
"alright."
The old man hadn't come back to his senses and hadn't seen anything Mo painted, and he said in disbelief:
"This...this is good?"
I took a look and drew a few strokes, and I'm repaired now?
"Yes." Mo Hua nodded, "It's very simple."
The old man walked to the edge of the field and looked at the formation. He saw that there was indeed a light yellow light on the formation, and he was still in a dream for a moment.
The water vapor in the fields is gradually being stored.
The spiritual rice no longer has a dry color, and the color is a little greener.
The old man couldn't help laughing, smiling, as if he thought that with the harvest, he and his grandson would not starve to death. He squatted by the field again and wiped his tears.
Ink painting is inexplicably sad.
Some monks in this world live so humble.
Just being able to survive, I was already crying with joy...
"Thank you little brother..."
The old man said solemnly, and was very grateful, but he had been dealing with the fields all his life, and was dull and unable to say anything nice, so he could only say "thank you".
Mo Hua asked:
"Your formation is broken, haven't you asked someone else to practice it?"
The old man said helplessly: "Please, you can repair ten spirit stones once, and then they will be damaged. If they are damaged, then they will be repaired..."
"In order to repair this formation, I put all the remaining spirit stones in my family in my family and owed the Sun family dozens of spirit stones... If I continue to repair them, even if I pay the Sun family all the harvest this year, I will not be able to pay off the debt."
"Sun Family?"
The old man pointed to Qianjia Town, "It's the richest Sun family in the town."
"This formation is passed down from their ancestors. The Sun family said that only they can draw and only they can practice it. So we can only give as much spirit stone as they want."
Mo Hua said in confusion: "Have you ever asked other formation masters to practice?"
The old man had a bitter face, "Qianjia Town, there is no other formation master..."
"Occasionally, there are formation masters passing by, and they won't help us for the sake of the Sun family."
"The Sun family is a local snake, and they dare not offend..."
The mood of ink painting is a bit complicated.
He looked at the formation of Lingtian again and found that there were indeed traces of repair before, but he used extremely low ink, with minimal cost, and extremely rough techniques, and the formation level was extremely shallow.
It probably came from the hands of an apprentice or a formation master who was not good at learning skills.
Or maybe the Sun family deliberately practiced perfunctorily.
If they practice too well, they will not easily break down, so they will not easily rely on formations to exploit spirit stones.
If you practice once, you will be ten spirit stones...
If this continues, it is not something that ordinary casual cultivators can afford to practice.
Mo Hua asked again: "What if I can't pay back the debts I owe to the Sun family?"
The old man sighed, "Then sell the children to them, the men are servants, and the women are servants."
"As soon as you enter the Sun family, you will be a slave and a maid, your name will be changed, and your parents can no longer recognize you. You can only make cows and horses for them..."
The eyes of the ink painting are slightly condensed.
He finally knew how so many servants and maids from the Sun family who served them came from...
As the old man said, he came to his senses and said apologetically:
"After so long, I've heard from my old man complain..."
Then he thought of something and looked ashamed again, "I..."
He wanted to give it to him, but his family was penniless and could not even take out a single spiritual stone.
Mo Hua waved his hand and said, "It's a simple task, no need."
The old man was really sorry and said:
"Sir, if you don't dislike it, go to my house and have a meal."
The old man looked very guilty.
Mo Hua thought about it and agreed. He happened to have something to ask.
The two of them chatted a few more times along the way.
Mo Hua learned that the old man's surname was Ding, a family of four lived in Dongshan Village near Qiandeng Town, and had been a Lingnong for generations.
It can cultivate spiritual fields, but the income is meager and cannot support the family.
The son and daughter-in-law went out to make a living, and they could come back almost once a year or two.
I left my grandson with him at home, and I could have a meal with a few acres of thin fields.
Old man Ding invited the ink painting home.
When I saw the ink painting, nothing unexpected happened. The family was so deserted that it was very shabby.
Old Man Ding said embarrassedly: "This... the family is really..."
Mo Hua shook her head, not minding.
He was born into a casual cultivator and knew what poverty looked like.
Old man Ding went to make a fire and cook.
After a while, a bowl of porridge, a plate of pickles, and a local chicken were placed on the table.
This native chicken is killed now.
When Mo Hua entered the door, he saw it calling to himself in the yard.
Although this kind of chicken is also raised by monks and is a spirit beast, it has almost no spiritual energy and is not worth many spirit stones. Therefore, some casual cultivators will raise a few and just feed them some grass.
But this is also the only chicken in Old Man Ding’s house.
Pickles are bitter and salty.
There is half a bowl of rice in the porridge, but this is only in the bowl of ink painting.
Old man Ding and his grandson's bowl were clean, and there was no clear porridge and no grain of rice.
The farmer has no rice to eat.
Ink painting was silent for a moment.
"The scattered cultivators in Tongxian City are very hard, but most of the scattered cultivators in this world may be even more miserable than the scattered cultivators in Tongxian City."
Elder Yu said this to him, but this was the first time Mo Hua deeply realized it.
He thought of the food that the Sun family had eaten in the morning, the table full of rice and meat that had not been finished and poured out...
Mo Hua sighed.
Don’t farm or work, don’t eat or eat, work hard, but don’t eat.
Thank you book friends for passing by and rewarded the leader!
The second leader, thank you ~
I wrote it in the notebook, and I will update it later~
But the writing is indeed slow at the moment, so I have to stabilize my mentality and elaborate on the detailed outline, so I don’t have much more, sorry.
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Chapter completed!