Clang, clang, clang!
The hammer struck the red-hot iron, sending sparks flying in all directions.
"Which family sent you with firewood?" asked the burly blacksmith as he noticed a dark-skinned youth entering with a basket of firewood on his back.
In the camp, some people relied on gathering and delivering firewood to exchange for food.
"Uh, no, I'm here to deliver meat. I want to trade for some things."
"Meat?" The blacksmith looked skeptical. How could a half-grown kid possibly get his hands on meat?
Tang Wen set down the basket, first taking out the firewood, then pulling out a chicken.
"A pheasant?"
The blacksmith examined it closely: "A whole pheasant, not bad. The heart, liver, and brain are all intact. Perfect for nourishing my wife. What do you want in exchange?"
"A kitchen knife, a few daggers, and a pair of scissors."
"That's too much. I can only give you the kitchen knife and scissors."
"I'll throw in the firewood too."
"That's not worth much," the burly man said, putting down his hammer.
Tang Wen pulled out three Red-billed Finches from his pocket: "Add these, and give me three daggers."
"Red-billed Finches?" The blacksmith looked at Tang Wen in surprise, then thought for a moment and said, "My daggers are made of fine steel. I can only give you one."
Though tempted, Tang Wen withdrew his hand, acting as if he was no longer interested.
The blacksmith quickly upped the offer: "I'll throw in some needles and thread."
After a few seconds of standoff, Tang Wen agreed.
The blacksmith wasn't lying. The dagger he gave was over 20 centimeters long.
Double-edged, with a cold glint at the tip, it was a straight blade with no curve. Tang Wen tested its sharpness on a piece of firewood and nodded in satisfaction.
"Next time you have meat, bring it over."
Tang Wen looked at him seriously: "Do you have Foxtail millet?"
"I have potatoes and sweet potatoes."
"What's your name, brother?"
"Li Da Niu."
"I'm Tang Wen."
"Little Tang, if you have birds, you can bring them to me. Just like today. I'll give you potatoes and sweet potatoes. My wife just had a baby, and the child needs meat to grow strong."
"Deal!"
In a camp where men were scarce and women were plentiful, a man who cared so much for his wife and child was likely reliable.
In the camp, few people hunted. Most relied on catching fish in the swamps, digging up roots, foraging for wild vegetables, and flipping over insects outside the camp to barely make it through the winter.
By spring, they could work in the fields.
Working in the fields earned them a meal from the camp, and when the Foxtail millet was harvested, they could also receive a share of the grain.
If they wanted more, they could slowly accumulate a set of farming tools and apply to cultivate new land.
The camp would provide seeds, and the harvest from the new land would be split 70-30 with the camp.
The guards often hunted Mutated Beasts, but they only delivered the prey to the city.
...
In the small hut, the dagger was stuck into a hanging wooden post.
Thud, thud, thud...
At close range, every throw hit its mark.
After several successful attempts, an experience panel appeared:
[Skill: Flying Knife Skill, Beginner (1/500)]
Tang Wen's soul was that of a Chinese person.
He possessed all the traits of a Chinese person: anxiety, insecurity, and an innate fear of insufficient firepower, among others.
On the way back, he thought to himself, today it was a pheasant that ran out of the woods—pure luck.
But what about next time?
What if it's a wolf or a Mutated Beast?
He couldn't outrun them, and in a fight, the odds were 30-70.
Three minutes, and the Mutated Wolf would be seven-tenths full.
So, practicing a more lethal skill was urgent.
After much thought, he chose the flying knife.
After that, in addition to practicing the Eight Section Brocade, Tang Wen also began practicing the Flying Knife Skill.
Before the upgrade of the Eight Section Brocade, this would have been impossible.
At that time, his physical condition and energy were too weak. Even if he could eat his fill, he didn't have the stamina to practice two skills continuously.
Amid the "thud, thud" sounds, Tang Tang held a needle and thread, humming an unknown tune as she mended his clothes.
Thud.
The hundredth hit.
[Skill: Flying Knife Skill, Beginner (100/500)]
Practicing on stationary wooden stakes was inefficient. Each successful hit only gave one point of experience.
At night, the north wind howled, and the temperature dropped.
Tang Wen and his sister were awakened by the cold and had no choice but to light the earthen stove for warmth, barely managing to sleep until dawn.
In the morning, more people than usual left the camp with bamboo baskets on their backs and hatchets in hand.
Tang Wen also carried a basket, blending into the crowd. He moved away from the firewood gatherers and headed deep into the forest, searching for a suitable clearing to scatter foxtail millet.
He hid and practiced his Flying Knife Skill.
When the Red-billed Finches arrived, Tang Wen put away his dagger.
Perhaps due to the cold or some other reason, the wild forest only had these birds. Over the past half month, Tang Wen had hardly seen any other species.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
Four Red-billed Finches were struck one after another, fluttering to the ground.
Tang Wen went over to pick them up and carefully inspected the foxtail millet on the ground.
Hmm, this time he acted quickly. They hadn't eaten much, so there was no need to replenish the millet for now.
At noon, he didn't return. Instead, he took out the foxtail millet balls his sister had made, filled his stomach, and continued hunting.
As the weather grew colder, the days became shorter. The household bedding was still not prepared, so he needed to hunt more birds.
With his proficient Flying Stone skill, his accuracy was high. When three or five birds flew by, often not a single one escaped.
In the afternoon, he finished early as usual.
He carried a basket full of dry firewood, disguising himself as a firewood gatherer. Though there were many people on the road, his appearance was no different from theirs, so no one paid him special attention.
Today's harvest was plentiful—a full 15 Red-billed Finches.
At the same time, practicing his Flying Knife Skill in the forest had earned him a lot of experience: [Flying Knife Skill: Beginner (207/500)]
Returning to the camp, he visited several rice shops, first exchanging for 10 catties of foxtail millet, then taking another 10 catties from home to trade for two sets of new hemp clothes and two thick hemp quilts.
The hemp quilts were made by stitching multiple layers of hemp cloth, stuffed with thick layers of dry grass and cotton wadding. As long as there were materials and effort, a woman could sew one in two days. The cost was merely the effort and some thread.
When the hemp quilts were brought home, Tang Tang pouted, clearly reluctant, muttering under her breath: What kind of junk is this? Next year when it rains, these quilts will just get moldy, and they dare to ask for ten catties of millet...
But that night, she slept soundly.
Every day, Tang Wen scattered foxtail millet deep in the forest, like a fisherman preparing his bait.
The Red-billed Finches seemed to know there was food here, flocking over one after another.
For several days in a row, Tang Wen's harvest exceeded 20 birds.
He and Tang Tang ate one roasted Red-billed Finch for each of their three daily meals, while the rest were traded for grain and necessities.
The hard days were relatively peaceful.
With so much foxtail millet traded, the household's rice jars were no longer sufficient. The small space inside the house couldn't accommodate large vats, so Tang Wen went to the carpenter and traded for several lidded buckets to store the millet.
On a day in late October, Tang Wen walked back to the camp with a wild rabbit and a full load of dry firewood.
"Stop! Hand over the firewood!"
Tang Wen's body instantly tensed as he looked toward the person who had jumped out from behind the tree.
The person was dressed in thin, tattered clothes, with a sallow and emaciated face, bulging eyes, and a sharpened long wooden stick in hand. He jabbed the stick repeatedly in Tang Wen's direction, threatening him.
It was a Scavenger from outside the camp. People inside the camp weren't in such a pitiful state.
Tang Wen lifted the corner of his robe, revealing the cold glint of a dagger at his waist.
It would be best to subdue the enemy without a fight!
The Scavenger grew excited. "The knife... give me the knife too."
Tang Wen: "..."
Whoosh.
His right hand, hidden in his sleeve, swiftly flung out a Flying Stone!
"Ah!"
The Scavenger clutched his nose, staggering backward until his back slammed into a tree.
[Skill: Flying Stone, Mastery (899 →
932/3000)]
Tang Wen raised an eyebrow. Such a high experience gain?
Injury and pain were as common as daily meals for Scavengers.
Having his nose broken only fueled his ferocity.
The Scavenger straightened up, gripping the pointed stick, and charged straight at Tang Wen.
(End of Chapter)