C7 Soul Call

At this moment, when he saw Fan Wenbin's delighted look, Fan Youcai finally put his heart back into his stomach. He smiled and hurriedly said, "I wonder if the company has any eliminated computers. Can you donate a few to the school? As long as it can be used, it's fine.

"Okay, Sixth Uncle. " Seeing this, Fan Wenbin smiled and said, "After Grandpa's funeral is over, I'll get someone to send some usable computers over. At that time, Sixth Uncle, don't think that it's old. " After saying that, he laughed loudly.

Fan Youcai hurriedly said, "Bin Bin, you've helped me a lot. How could I possibly dislike you?" It doesn't matter if it's old or not. As long as it's usable, let the children use it. They'll understand some computer knowledge. I'm happy. It's too late, how can I dare to reject it?

He said again, "At that time, the school will open a donation ceremony and make it grander. It can also be considered as a free advertisement for Huacheng Company. "

Fan Wenbin was in a good mood, so he tried to curry favor with him. "Bin Bin, when the time comes, I'll invite a big boss like you to give a speech. Tell the kids about your experiences and let them broaden their horizons. "

As he continued to ramble on and on, he could hear the sound of a sumphony coming from the courtyard. After the group of old and young Daoists had their fill, under the lead of the leader, Daoist Zhenzi, they began to perform their best performance.

At this time, the sun had just approached the top of the western mountain. The sun was gentle and the breeze was gentle. The earth was very bright and cool. The resonant and distant sound of a long and distant dragon was sometimes high and sometimes low, and sometimes intermittent. It was clearly drifting in the air above both sides of the Yellow River along with the wind, spreading far and far.

In the next few days, the funeral of Great-Grandfather Fan followed the tradition of the Fan Clan that had never changed since ancient times. One step after another, the funeral was carried out in an orderly fashion, accompanied by the chanting of sutras and the sound of the sumphonas. In the heavy and sorrowful atmosphere, the funeral was carried out in an orderly manner.

The descendants of the Fan Family. Regardless of whether they were close or distant relatives, there were close to a hundred men and women, old or young, dressed in mourning clothes. They knelt in front of the memorial hall that was woven from white flowers and black gauze in an orderly manner, crying and screaming from time to time. They would do their final filial piety for this legendary Great-Grandfather Fang.

When night had just fallen, Fan Wenbin, dressed in a white mourning dress, knelt obediently in the middle of the filial son. His expression was solemn as he silently watched Daoist Priest Zhenzi, who was jumping around in the middle of the courtyard.

This ZhenYangzi was the new sect master of the Wulan Mountain's Baiyun Monastery, and he was also a specially hired ginseng from the Hanhong Home Appliances Company. Huang Weidong's idea was to invite Zhenyang Zi to the Fan Family to recite the sutra.

It was said that when Zhenyang Zi was young, he had once cultivated the Dao Art in Wudang Mountain and obtained the true teachings of Heaven Master Zhang. His magical power was extremely powerful, and his name shook both sides of the Yellow River. He was a Yin-Yang Master who had comprehended the mysteries of the heaven and earth.

At this moment, under the illumination of the bright light, ZhenYangzi Zi was wearing a black and white Eight Trigrams robe. He was holding a Yin Yang sword in his hand, and he was surrounding a black square table. In the midst of the uneven and powerful music, he was pacing around and mumbling something, as if he was begging for something from the heavens.

Everyone stood in a circle and watched him silently and nervously. No one dared to make a sound, as they were afraid that they would alert this powerful man who was casting a spell. Even though no one knew what kind of secrets were contained within these strange actions of Zhenzi Yangzi.

All of a sudden, the figure of Yangzi Zhenzi, who was spinning at an extreme speed, let out a shrill and explosive cry. Following this explosive cry, a piece of yellow paper that was lifted by the tip of the sword started to burn slowly. It became more and more exuberant, like a ball of flame in the night sky. At the same time that it illuminated the surroundings, it also let out faint crackling sounds from time to time.

Following that, ZhenYangzi Zi raised his sword high and led the disciples out of the Fan Family's courtyard in a line. He let out a vague and desolate cry, like a general who had gone out to war, he held his head high and puffed his chest out. He walked along the streets and alleys, and along with the sound of the firecrackers, he walked forward in a grandiose and rapid manner.

All the filial sons followed closely behind him, and it was completely silent. In the darkness of the night, they were like a group of white sheep. After leaving the village and arriving at an empty land, all the filial children consciously knelt in a circle. The big and small Taoists stood still solemnly, beating the gongs and beating the drums and blowing the phoenixes, creating a mysterious atmosphere.

Zheng Yangzi stood in the middle of the circle. He waved his sword up, down, left, and right. That burning piece of yellow paper burned brighter and brighter in the night sky. Following that, Zhenyang Zi shouted out loudly once again. Then, he raised his head and faced the deep night sky, which was illuminated by the fiery light. His expression was solemn and sincere. His lips moved up and down as he chanted in a loud and rapid voice:

The hot summer brought the spring back to spring. The red light under the bridge of the setting sun lit up. A spring breeze blew the fire. Where did the cool breeze come from?

The summer turned to winter and autumn returned to autumn. People buried the bones in the desolate hills. The dream of the butterfly was thousands of miles away. Tears streamed down the Village Platform.

The Bridge of Helplessness came to the Bridge of Helplessness. It was seven inches wide and tens of thousands of feet tall. The wind was blowing and swaying, and the small wind was blowing and swaying.

The bridge of the kind crossed. The pair of male and female attendants crossed the bridge, and the bridge of the wicked crossed. The head of the cow and the horse of the horse intersected.

The heavens left behind rain and rain, the path left behind by humans left behind grass and roots, the heavens left behind rain and rain to establish all things, the true path left behind to guide the souls of the dead.

After he finished reciting, he raised the treasured sword before his eyes and suddenly exhaled a breath of cold air, blowing away the burning yellow paper. After that, he gave a loud shout, and all the Taoists immediately stopped beating the gongs and drums, and followed closely behind his filial sons, quietly returning to the Fan Family Compound. At this point, the soul shouting ceremony was finally completed.

In the latter half of the night, Fan Wenbin, who was sleeping in the mourning hall to guard his spirit, was suddenly woken up. He turned around and sat up. With a restless mood, his sleepy eyes stared intently at the flickering oil lamp.

After a while, he finally woke up and stared at his grandfather's portrait for a long time. Only then did his panicked heart gradually calm down.

Just now, he had a very strange dream. It was a dream that was sometimes blurry and sometimes clear. It was a dream that woke him up from his deep sleep. What did this strange dream signify? He sighed lightly and began to think. At this moment, the wind was blowing outside.

In his dream, he was riding a boat to cross the Yellow River. However, when the boat reached the middle of the river, a whirlwind suddenly soared into the sky, stirring up a huge wave that overturned the boat in an instant. As for himself, he fell headfirst into the rolling Yellow River, and he could not help but cry out in alarm.

At this moment, under the dim light, looking at his grandfather's wrinkled and firm face, Fan Wenbin could not help but feel a strong sense of melancholy and sadness in his heart.

His grandfather, who had been strong for his entire life, finally did not resist the call of death after experiencing countless storms and waves. He let go of his hand and left the world, never to come back again.

From the time he remembered the incident, he often heard from the village elders that when his grandfather, Fan Zhengkun, was young, roughly in the early 40s of the last century, he was the head of the Big Brothers Association on both sides of the Yellow River. He had a bunch of loyal brothers under him, and once he stepped on them, the Yellow River would tremble three times.

This sort of saying was very popular. Later on, when Fan Wenbin heard many people say this, he felt that having such a heroic grandfather was very proud.

From this, his admiration for his grandfather became stronger and stronger. He always fantasized that one day, he would also be able to shock both sides of the Yellow River like his grandfather did back then.

Once, he once asked if there was such a thing. His grandfather sneered a few times. A trace of pride flashed across his face, and then he said, A good man doesn't need to be brave in the past. Let bygones be bygones.

However, Fan Wenbin keenly understood the answer from the complacent expression on his grandfather's face that disappeared in a flash. It was also from that moment that his heart was filled with respect towards his grandfather. During the chaotic era, to be able to support a world on both sides of the Yellow River was indeed not easy, not simple at all.

At this moment, Fan Wengong and a few other guardian spirits were snoring heavily. They rose and fell one after another. They were all sleeping soundly, almost like dead pigs. The light in the mourning hall was dim and the silence made people panic.

After sitting in a daze and thinking randomly for a while, just as Fan Wenbin was about to sleep again, suddenly, a faintly discernible cough clearly drifted into his ears. In addition to being shocked, his entire body could not help but shiver.

Immediately, a clear thought arose in his mind. This was grandfather's cough. When his grandfather was alive, he would often make this kind of vague and loud cough.

Fan Wenbin was too familiar with this cough. It could be said that he had grown up in this cough since he was young. This coughing sound made him feel a kind of upright air that stood between heaven and earth.

Following the cold wind that blew into the mourning hall, Fan Wenbin hurriedly sat up and looked towards the source of the sound. He saw that the flower banner trembled along with the wind, making a series of twittering sounds. He could not help but feel puzzled in his heart. This cough clearly belonged to his grandfather, but where was he?