Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

His consciousness slowly rose from the virtual black earth, filled with the sweet scent of newly sprouted peanuts and the fragrance of moist soil. Wei Chen opened his eyes; the west wing was completely silent.

Outside the window, the north wind was sweeping wildly across the bare branches of the jujube trees in the courtyard, emitting a sharp and monotonous wail, like tireless sentinels patrolling the night.

He focused his mind and calmed his spirit. His invisible spiritual power spread out silently like the most intricate spider web, taking in every inch of his courtyard and every breath of life.

Inside the east wing, Wang Xiulan's breathing was long and steady, carrying the deep weariness of a busy day of cooking and steaming, but also revealing a sense of peace and security after hiding the family's wealth and settling her daughter's studies. Each inhale and exhale was slow and powerful, like a steady anchor sinking into the harbor of dreams.

Next door, from Wei Ran's little room, came the soft, even snores of a young girl, occasionally punctuated by a few indistinct murmurs in her sleep, "Little Grass Sister... together... school..." The fragmented words were full of longing for her new school and new friends, and the corners of her tender mouth were slightly upturned in her sleep.

The entire courtyard seemed to be embraced by the night. Occasionally, the creaking sound of Jia Zhangshi turning over and pressing down on the old bed board could be heard from the middle courtyard, or the indistinct murmurs of Liu's son in his sleep, which made the night seem even thicker and darker, and all was silent.

Wei Chen's gaze fell on the old horseshoe-shaped clock on the corner of the table. The hands, glowing with a faint green light, were trembling as they pointed to 11:50.

"The time has come." He murmured silently, a glint of light flashing in his eyes, like a shooting star streaking across the night.

The dim light bulb was not turned on. In the darkness, his movements were precise as a ruler; his cotton-padded jacket and trousers were on in a few nimble flips, the rustling sound of the fabric rubbing together almost inaudible.

He walked to the door, listened for a moment, and confirmed that there was no other sound in the courtyard except for the wind. Then he gently pulled open the heavy jujube wood door latch, slipped out, and closed the door slightly behind him. His movements were as light as a swallow skimming across the water, without disturbing a speck of dust.

At midnight on the 25th of the twelfth lunar month in Beijing, the cold air had solidified into a tangible substance, scraping against the face like a knife. As soon as Wei Chen stepped into the alley, the biting cold wind, carrying fine ice crystals, rushed towards him, each breath producing a long trail of white mist.

The pale moonlight stingily spilled down, casting long, distorted shadows of the towering blue brick walls and the gnarled old locust trees on either side, projecting them onto the frozen, hard dirt road, forming mottled and eerie patterns, like a passageway leading to the underworld.

Wei Chen walked with light yet steady steps, expertly turning into the end of a narrow dead-end alley piled with old baskets, discarded bricks, and coal heaps. The alley was sheltered from the wind and rarely visited by people, save for a few eerie cries from distant rooftops.

He stopped, took a deep breath of the crisp, cold air, and the icy oxygen instantly ignited his blood. The next moment, the power within him, honed through countless trials in the "game world," erupted like a dormant volcano!

Muscle fibers bulge and swell under the infusion of mysterious energy, emitting subtle yet dense "crackling" sounds, while bones are stretched and reshaped by an invisible force!

The cotton-padded jacket and trousers that were originally well-fitting were instantly stretched taut and bulging, the fabric groaning under the strain, as if it were about to burst open at any moment.

The contours of his face were also undergoing incredible shifts and adjustments. His cheekbones were higher, his jaw was more square and broad, and his brow bones were as prominent as rocks. Even his originally clear and reserved eyes seemed to have been infused with iron sand, becoming rough and fierce, and settling into a kind of indifference and composure.

In just five or six breaths, standing in the deep shadows of the alley was a burly giant, nearly 1.9 meters tall, with broad shoulders and a thick back, his muscles bulging like the roots of an old tree, as if cast from cast iron.

He slowly moved his unusually thick wrists, his knuckles like cast steel, then twisted his neck, a dull "crack" sound coming from his cervical spine. Feeling this massive, completely unfamiliar body brimming with explosive power, a brute force of control welled up within him. He silently grinned, and in the moonlight, a cold glint flashed in his sharp white teeth.

"Time to meet my 'iron lump'." A deep, hoarse voice, like sandpaper rubbing against rock, rang out in the dead end, only to be shattered by the howling wind. Wei Chen transformed into the image of the iron tower who was going to make a deal with Brother Tiger.

Following the address Tiger had left three days earlier, Wei Chen quickly navigated the maze-like network of alleyways. His massive frame exuded a heavy sense of oppression.

His tall figure sometimes disappeared into the shadows of the high walls, sometimes appeared in the pale moonlight, like a wandering ghost. Finally, he stopped in a desolate corner near the base of the inner city wall. This place had once been the edge of the old mule and horse market, now long abandoned, with only broken walls and ruins telling tales of its former bustle.

Before me lay a forgotten, dilapidated courtyard. Half of the courtyard wall had collapsed, and withered yellow grass hung from the jagged bricks at the gap.

Inside the courtyard, three low, mud-brick houses shivered in the cold wind, like elderly people on their last legs. Large sections of the roof tiles were missing, revealing dark rafters, and the windows were just empty holes, like gaping maws of monsters in the moonlight.

The cold wind swept through the hole without hindrance, whistling and swirling up dust and debris. The air was thick with the smell of dust, mold, and a faint, almost imperceptible odor of decaying animal droppings. This place was rarely visited during the day, and at night even stray dogs wouldn't bother with it.

Wei Chen's burly figure stopped at the courtyard gate. His invisible spiritual power, like the most precise detection wave, instantly swept across the entire courtyard and the three dilapidated houses.

There was no heartbeat, no breath, no heat source—except for the faint rustling of a few startled mice crawling in the corner and the weak fluttering of a few frozen crickets, there was nothing alive. Tiger's men were disciplined; they hadn't laid an ambush beforehand.

Wei Chen then pulled out a heavy brass key from his pocket, covered in verdigris and grease—this was the key that Tiger Brother had solemnly handed to him during the day, almost with both hands.

The key was inserted into the lock of the equally rusty but unusually sturdy iron lock, and as it turned, it made a harsh, grating "click... creak..." sound, which was particularly clear in the deathly silence. The bolt snapped open.

He stretched out his large, fan-like hand and forcefully pushed open the dilapidated wooden door, which seemed ready to fall apart at any moment and whose hinges groaned in pain. A murky smell, a mixture of heavy dust, pungent mold, a faint smell of engine oil, and the stench of some kind of rotten old hay, suddenly hit him.

By the dim moonlight filtering through the broken windows and leaks in the roof, one could clearly see two steel behemoths standing silently amidst the rubble and dust in the center of the room.

On the left is an electric flour mill. It's about half a person's height, with a sturdy cast iron base that sits firmly on its silver-gray metal body, which has some scratches and solidified oil stains on its exterior. A large, funnel-shaped feed inlet is wide open at the top, while a relatively delicate powder outlet with an adjustable gate is located on the side.

The machine's surface was covered with a thick layer of dust, but key parts such as bearings, pulleys, and the motor housing showed signs of careful wiping and maintenance. Although the words "Huguang Machinery Factory" on the nameplate were blurred, they exuded a sense of reliability from a long-established industrial company. In an era when even hand-cranked mills were scarce, this machine was undoubtedly a symbol of "industrial heavyweights."

The machine on the right, slightly smaller in size but with a more primitive and rugged structure, is a corn crusher, commonly known as a corn mill. It has a more solid and heavy cast iron body, an exaggeratedly large feed hopper on top, and the internal grinding disc structure is almost half exposed. The huge cast iron grinding disc has wear marks on its edges, and the thick transmission gears gleam with a cold, hard luster even in the dim light.

This machine was covered in even more oil and mixed with years of cornmeal, clearly indicating that it was used very frequently and was a true "workhorse".

The two machines, like silent behemoths from the industrial age, are perched amidst the ruins, creating an absurd yet awe-inspiring contrast with the surrounding crumbling environment.

"Goodness, that's quite substantial." A hint of admiration flashed in Wei Chen's eyes. He stepped forward, his large, fan-like hand carrying a caution that was completely opposite to his rugged appearance. As if stroking the back of a sleeping giant, he gently brushed across the cold, solid metal casing of the flour mill, feeling the power transmitted by its heavy, solid texture.

He then bent his knuckles and tapped the thick, cast-iron base of the corn mill, which resembled a cannon barrel support, producing a dull, solid "clang" metallic echo, confirming the stability of its internal structure.

Confirmed. Without further delay, he focused his mind, and his immense spiritual power instantly became like an invisible giant hand, firmly enveloping the two steel structures that together probably weighed a thousand pounds.

brush!brush!

Two barely perceptible ripples spread out from the dilapidated house, like the faint ripples caused by a stone thrown into a calm lake.

Those two enormous machines vanished without a trace in this decaying house, leaving only two clear, dusty marks on the floor and the lingering smell of engine oil and rust in the air.

Immediately afterward, Wei Chen's consciousness sank into that mysterious game space. The first room in the west wing of the Hunter's Lodge had already been thoroughly cleaned by him with his mind, all clutter removed, leaving the bluestone floor as smooth as a mirror.

Two heavy machines appeared out of thin air in the center of the excessively clean stone house, as if being steadily lifted by an invisible hand of space. When they landed on the ground, they made two muffled, short "thump, thump" sounds without disturbing the dust.

Having done all this, Wei Chen's gaze swept over the empty floor of the dilapidated house. His spatial backpack activated again; this time, it wasn't for collecting, but for releasing!

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang... A series of muffled thuds as heavy objects crashed to the ground suddenly erupted in the dilapidated house, like the beating of a dull war drum, instantly tearing apart the deathly silence of the night!

Ten large, fat pigs, their bodies as black as ink, appeared out of thin air as if poured out of the void by an invisible force, and crashed heavily onto the cold, hard ground!