Reborn in 1985, starting from the mountains of Northwest China

With a preliminary assessment of the three acres of land in his mind, Chen Feng felt much more at ease.

It's deep winter now, and the end of the year is approaching, so the work in the fields can't be rushed.

Once spring arrives and the ice melts, the first thing I'll do is thoroughly turn over this land...

As he pondered this, he slowly walked along the frozen riverbank.

The last time he seriously looked at this little river was many years ago.

I don't recall any big fish, but there were always plenty of small fish and shrimp.

If the weather is better tomorrow, maybe we can bring Xiaoshan and Xiaoyue here to try our luck and teach them to recognize the ice holes. That would be a fun thing to do.

However, the most important thing right now is to prepare enough firewood for the winter.

Having made up his mind, Chen Feng turned and headed towards the nearest patch of mixed woods in his memory.

The forest was mostly filled with oak, hazelnut, and some thorny shrubs. They weren't great timber, but they were the most reliable and durable firewood for a farmer's stove.

As soon as we entered the woods, the light immediately dimmed.

The heavy snow weighed down the branches, and every now and then, a clump of snow, unable to bear the weight, would slide down with a "plop" and hit the ground, raising a small cloud of snow mist.

Chen Feng drew a woodcutter's knife from his waist; the thick blade gleamed with a chilling blue light under the reflection of the snow in the forest.

He didn't rush to take action, but instead stood still and carefully scanned the surrounding trees with his eyes.

There's a skill involved in chopping wood.

Good firewood should be selected from those that are already dry or from those with particularly dense and hard wood.

Freshly cut tree branches are too moist. When stuffed into the stove, they only produce thick smoke without igniting a flame, and they crackle and pop, which is very annoying.

He quickly took a liking to several dead hazel trees, about the size of a bowl, with twisted branches but extremely solid wood.

And those tree branches that were broken off by the strong wind in the distance are now mostly dry, making them excellent firewood.

Chen Feng selected his target and placed the basket aside.

He walked to a dead tree, aimed at a suitable angle at the base of the trunk, and chopped down hard.

"Snap!"

With a crisp crack, the dry wood split open.

Chen Feng remained calm, adjusted his posture, and delivered another slash.

This strike landed precisely next to the crack created by the previous strike, sending wood chips flying out with the blade.

His rhythm was steady, and each strike landed in the most effortless and effective position.

After just a dozen or so cuts, the tree trunk, as thick as a bowl, made a muffled sound and slowly fell to the ground, splashing up a cloud of snow.

He then proceeded to deal with the fallen tree.

First, use a machete to cut the main trunk into several sections of suitable length for binding and burning, then use the back of the knife to knock off the snow and icicles attached to it.

After dealing with the main trunk, he went to cut the thick branches and split them into firewood as well.

Then he walked toward the scattered, dried oak branches lying on the ground.

These firewood are easier to process; the main tasks are to gather them, knock off the ice and snow, and cut them into uniform lengths.

Chopping wood is hard work, and before long, beads of sweat appeared on Chen Feng's forehead, and the thin shirt under his cotton-padded jacket was also slightly damp with sweat.

But he moved swiftly without pausing for a moment.

Soon, two large, sturdy bundles of firewood were neatly stacked in the clearing in the woods.

Chen Feng used the hemp rope he brought to tie the firewood tightly in a crisscross pattern, making sure it was secure.

Then, he placed the two bundles of firewood on his back basket, one in front of the other.

He bent down, took a deep breath, and steadily hoisted the basket and firewood onto his shoulder.

The heavy weight pressed down on his shoulders. He adjusted his posture, took a step, and walked step by step through the snow towards the edge of the forest.

When we got home, it was already broad daylight, and Xiaoshan and Xiaoyue were already playing with Taxue in the yard.

Upon seeing Chen Feng return, the two children immediately cheered and ran over, eagerly trying to help their father unload the heavy basket and bundles of firewood.

"Dad, I've come to get this!"

Xiaoshan stood on tiptoe, trying to reach the straps of the basket.

"I'll help Dad get firewood!"

Xiaoyue also stretched out her little hand, wanting to help hold it up.

Seeing how sensible the children were, Chen Feng felt a warm glow in his heart.

He carefully placed the basket and bundle of firewood under the eaves in a dry place, so that the two children wouldn't have to exert themselves.

"Alright, go play, Dad will do it himself."

He patted the two little ones' heads and said, "Daddy has something to do later."

After putting away the firewood, Chen Feng went into the main room. Lin Xiu was clearing away the dishes and chopsticks. When she saw him return, she looked at him with concern and asked, "Are you tired? There's still some porridge warming in the pot."

"Not tired."

Chen Feng shook his head. "Xiuer, I have to go to the blacksmith shop again at noon."

Lin Xiu paused in her movements and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

Weren't all the farm tools we just bought recently?

"This time we're going into the mountains," Chen Feng explained in a low voice, "it's different from last time when we just wandered around nearby. We might go deeper and spend more time there. I'm thinking of asking if it's possible to... get a homemade gun for self-defense."

Lin Xiu's face turned pale instantly, and her lips moved slightly.

She knew the dangers of the deep mountains: wolves, wild boars, and possibly even bears...

Without anything to protect yourself, relying solely on a wood-chopping knife is far too dangerous.

Chen Feng noticed her fear and said gently, "I was just asking. A little noise from my hands makes me feel more at ease, and it'll ease your worries, won't it?"

Lin Xiu remained silent for a long while before nodding with difficulty, her voice somewhat hoarse: "Then... please be careful and don't cause trouble."

"I know," Chen Feng replied solemnly.

He didn't linger at home. He put the money in his pocket, told Lin Xiu, and went out, heading straight for the old blacksmith's shop at the east end of the village.

The craft of making homemade guns still exists these days.

Many families in the village also have guns.

The regulations in the north are not particularly strict, and most experienced mountain hunters carry one or two.

His father originally had one, but seeing that the craft of hunting in the mountains was ending with him, he sold the gun.

The money earned was gradually siphoned off here and there, and eventually wasted away.

Before even entering the shop, one could hear rhythmic clanging and the whooshing sound of bellows being pulled.

The air was filled with the unique smell of burning coal and quenching iron.

Chen Feng lifted the heavy, blackened cotton curtain and went inside.

"Uncle Zhang," Chen Feng called out.

Zhang Tiechui didn't stop until he had roughly shaped the piece of iron. Then, with a "sizzle," he used pliers to dip it into the bucket of water next to him, creating a large cloud of white mist.

He straightened up, wiped the sweat from his brow with the towel draped around his neck, and squinted at Chen Feng: "Oh, it's Fengwazi. What's wrong, not feeling good with your broadsword?"

"No, everything's working perfectly."

Chen Feng moved closer and whispered in Zhang the blacksmith's ear, "Uncle, I want to get a homemade gun."

Zhang Tiechui's casual expression vanished. He looked Chen Feng up and down a few times, but didn't answer immediately. He turned around, walked to the corner of the shop, picked up a chipped rough porcelain bowl, and gulped down several mouthfuls of cold tea.

"Wind Child, this is no joke."