It was finally time for Jason Liu to meet the inhabitants of this world, and he felt a bit excited.
After returning to his rental house, he packed his backpack and set off north toward the cottage.
As he got closer, Jason Liu could see what the cottage looked like.
The entire cottage resembled a small fortress, surrounded by a stone wall more than two meters high, with low wooden houses squeezed inside the wall.
The entrance was a gate made of wooden planks, with a small door beside it, just big enough for one person to pass through.
These cottages were built not only to protect against wild animals but also to defend against raiders from beyond the Wall who came to rob the villagers.
When Jason Liu approached the gate, he noticed a few children dressed in ragged animal skins or sackcloth. Their dirty faces were flushed red from the cold, and their shoes had holes, revealing their tiny, cold toes. As soon as they saw him, they ran away, looking like frightened little animals, quickly slipping through the small door and disappearing from view.
Seeing this, Jason Liu felt embarrassed and touched his nose. "Am I really that scary?" he wondered.
Soon, a bell rang in the cottage, and the once-quiet village suddenly erupted into noise.
Dirty faces appeared behind the stone wall, and villagers armed with wooden forks, axes, and kitchen knives looked over in a panic.
"—What's wrong?!"
Jason Liu was startled by the villagers' reaction. He instinctively pulled out his stick, ready to return to his own time if necessary. He thought it would be too funny to die here before he could accomplish anything, only to end up in the hands of these villagers.
Fortunately, the villagers huddled behind the gates and walls, chattering nervously.
As they saw Jason Liu was alone, the fear on their faces began to fade.
However, their gazes remained full of awe.
Just as Jason Liu was wondering what to do next, the small door of the cottage opened again. An old man with gray hair and a lame leg, leaning on a wooden stick, approached Jason Liu slowly.
The old man's face was lined with wrinkles, and his cloudy eyes showed a kind of respect that Jason Liu didn't quite understand.
He walked cautiously until he was about five meters away from Jason Liu but then stopped, not daring to come any closer. His rough, cracked hands clutched the wooden stick tightly, as if it was the only thing holding him up.
"Sir, may I ask why you have come to our humble village?" the old man said with respect. "This year, the taxes of our village have already been paid to the lord of Winterfell…"
Jason Liu had thought he wouldn't understand the language of Westeros, but suddenly he found himself overwhelmed by various languages from the world of Game of Thrones, as if a time and space portal had opened in his mind.
He realized he had mastered all the languages of this world.
Now, he didn't have to worry about a language barrier.
Hearing the old man refer to him as 'sir,' Jason Liu understood that the man saw him as a noble.
Given his appearance—standing tall, wearing noble-looking clothes, with a fair complexion that set him apart from the dirty, smelly old man—it was no wonder he was mistaken for a nobleman.
Jason Liu chose not to correct the misunderstanding. Instead, he thought it might be more useful to let the villagers think he was a noble, which would help him gather information.
So, he acted like a nobleman and asked directly, "Who are you? What is the name of your village? How far is it from Winterfell?"
The old man studied Jason Liu carefully. Though surprised by his differences from the people of Westeros, he felt compelled to answer the noble's questions.
"Sir, this is Dasongshu Village, and I am the village chief, Gena…" He leaned heavily on his stick, dragging his lame foot across the ground as he spoke carefully. "This village is over ten kilometers from Winterfell. If you head south along that road, you will reach it."
After learning the direction to Winterfell, Jason Liu planned to leave.
He felt uncomfortable looking at the old man standing there in such a humble and respectful way.
So, he took out a bag of bread from his backpack and handed it to the old man as a token of thanks.
Ignoring the old man's trembling gratitude, Jason Liu turned and walked along the path toward Winterfell.
"... Blessed by the old gods, old Gena has truly met a kind noble today. I have never seen such soft and white bread in my life, let alone eaten any," Gena thought as he returned to the cottage, clutching the bread in his hands, tears of joy streaming down his face.
The other villagers, with envy in their eyes, stared at the white bread Gena held, swallowing their saliva.
These villagers had spent their lives eating black bread mixed with sawdust and grass roots, bread that was hard as stone, and they had never seen anything as soft and white as this.
The children were especially greedy, their eyes glued to the bread in the village chief's hands, imagining how delicious it must taste.
Seeing this, Chief Gena sighed and decided to share the bread equally among the villagers, ensuring everyone received a piece the size of their thumb.
Some villagers stuffed the white bread into their mouths, devouring it eagerly.
Others took small bites, closing their eyes to savor the sweetness of the soft bread.
The children were quick to finish their pieces and looked at their parents expectantly.
For a moment, the entire Dasongshu Village enjoyed a taste of soft, sweet bread that only nobles usually had, all thanks to Jason Liu.
After saying goodbye to Dasongshu Village, Jason Liu continued south along the path. Not long after, he caught sight of the ancient city of Winterfell sitting on a hill in the distance.
Winterfell, located in the open fields, looked like a great beast. From afar, it gave off an air of majesty.
As he got closer to Winterfell, the roads became busier, filled mostly with farmers from the north.
Some pushed small carts loaded with sacks of carrots and onions, ready to sell at the winter market town outside Winterfell.
Others herded black pigs with tusks, resembling wild boars, occupying most of the road as their owners whipped them gently to keep them moving forward.
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