The village chief divided the able-bodied men into two groups: one to bury the bodies outside the village, and the other to patrol the village with weapons. Despite having only one arm, Zhang Liang, a veteran of the battlefield, was assigned to the patrol group.
When the hunter noticed Zhang Liang staring at the corpses in a daze, he nudged him. "Liang, what are you spacing out for? Let's go."
"Oh, right!" Zhang Liang snapped out of it. Seeing Jin Feng surrounded by a crowd of women, he suppressed his unease and followed the hunter, machete in hand.
"Jin Feng, how many people are you planning to hire?"
"Can my daughter come? She's really fast at spinning. She doesn't need pay, just meals would be fine."
"Jin Feng, when will you finish making the new spinning wheels?"
The women bombarded Jin Feng with questions, completely unfazed by the fact that two people had just died in this very courtyard, the blood on the ground still fresh. To them, death was a common sight. Life had to go on. In about ten days, the野菜 season would end, and they'd have nothing to do. No work meant no income. They weren't afraid of hard labor or death—they were afraid of hunger.
Finally, Jin Feng promised to make the spinning wheels as quickly as possible, ensuring everyone would have work. Satisfied, the women left. A few of the more diligent ones, wanting to leave a good impression, even grabbed hoes and filled a few baskets with dirt to carefully cover the bloodstains before departing.
"Husband, your hand is in such a state. How will you make spinning wheels?" Guan Xiaorou asked worriedly after the women had left.
"I can't do it myself, but I can hire someone else to help," Jin Feng said. "The carpenter in town is quite skilled. I'll ask him for help."
"No! The spinning wheels can't be shared with outsiders. You have to make them yourself," Tang Dongdong immediately objected.
"Dongdong, even if I did nothing but make spinning wheels from now on, how many could I possibly produce?" Jin Feng argued. "If we want to take down the Zhou family, relying on me alone to make spinning wheels won't work. Sooner or later, we'll need outside help."
"Once we've made some money, I'll go to the city and buy some carpenters. We can have them make the spinning wheels then," Tang Dongdong said. "But until we've bought the carpenters, you're the only one who can make them."
"Carpenters can be bought?" Jin Feng thought he'd misheard.
"Of course. There are specialized markets in the city where people are sold—some because their families have committed crimes and been confiscated by the authorities, others because they've sold themselves to raise money for emergencies," Tang Dongdong explained. "Carpenters are rare, but if we look hard enough, we'll find some."
Jin Feng's mind immediately conjured images from historical dramas of people selling themselves to bury their parents.
"But wouldn't carpenters we buy still leak the secret?"
"Once they've signed a contract of servitude, their lives belong to you. If they leak secrets, the authorities won't care if you kill them," Tang Dongdong said. "But carpenters are skilled laborers, so they're usually expensive. Plus, we'd have to pay taxes for them. We can't afford that right now."
"Dongdong, how about this," Jin Feng suggested. "We don't give the entire spinning wheel to one carpenter. We just give them the more complicated parts to make. Once they're done, we'll assemble the parts ourselves. That way, we save time and don't risk leaking the design. What do you think?"
"That's a good idea," Tang Dongdong agreed after a moment's thought.
"Alright. I've already made the more complex parts a few days ago. Xiaorou, go find Brother Liang tomorrow and ask him to take them to the carpenter in town."
"Okay."
Before Guan Xiaorou could go looking for him, Zhang Liang showed up after finishing his patrol. He didn't enter the courtyard, just stood at the gate and waved Jin Feng over. "Jin Feng, come here for a moment."
"Brother Liang, I was just about to go find you tomorrow," Jin Feng said with a smile as he walked over.
"What for?"
"I wanted to ask you to go to town tomorrow and have a carpenter make something for me."
"Sure, that's easy enough," Zhang Liang said, glancing around before lowering his voice. "Did you recognize that bald guy today?"
"No," Jin Feng shook his head. "Who knows where Xie Guang picked up that scoundrel."
As soon as he said it, Jin Feng realized something was off. Zhang Liang had come all this way specifically to ask about the bald man—there had to be something unusual about him.
"Brother Liang, do you know him?"
"If I'm not mistaken, he might be a bandit."
"A bandit?" Jin Feng's heart skipped a beat.
For mountain villagers, bandits were an ever-present shadow hanging over their heads. Every year, the bandits from Tieguan Mountain would come to the village to collect grain. If anyone resisted, the consequences were severe.
Over twenty years ago, a nearby village had suffered a flood, and the villagers had very little harvest. If they handed over their grain to the bandits, their families would starve. So that year, the villagers resisted and drove out the bandit squad that had come to collect grain.
The next day, a large group of bandits descended on the village. To make an example, they slaughtered all the men and took the women and children to the mountains. To this day, that village remains deserted, and no one dares to enter, even in broad daylight.
If the bald man was a bandit from Tieguan Mountain, things were serious.
"Brother Liang, how did you figure out he was a bandit?" Jin Feng asked curiously.
Logically, the village chief should be the most familiar with the bandits, as he dealt with them every year. Why was Zhang Liang the only one who recognized the bald man as a bandit?
"Because I saw the brand on his wrist," Zhang Liang said. "It's the mark of the Maomao Mountain bandits."
"Maomao Mountain bandits?" Jin Feng almost laughed. "Where's Maomao Mountain?"
In his host's memory, there were only the Tieguan Mountain bandits. He'd never heard of any Maomao Mountain bandits. Bandit groups usually had intimidating names like Green Dragon Fort or Fierce Tiger Ridge. Maomao Mountain? Was that name for real?
"Maomao Mountain is north of the county seat. A few years ago, I went there on business and saw the Maomao Mountain bandits. They all had a brand on their wrists, just like the bald man."
"I see," Jin Feng said, feeling a bit relieved. "At least they're not from Tieguan Mountain."
Bandits operated within specific territories. If multiple groups tried to collect from the same area, the villagers would be bled dry. The villages near Xihewan were under the control of the Tieguan Mountain bandits. If other bandits caused trouble here, the Tieguan Mountain bandits wouldn't stand for it.
"Jin Feng, the Maomao Mountain bandits are even more troublesome than the Tieguan Mountain bandits!" Zhang Liang warned. "The Tieguan Mountain bandits make their living by collecting grain, but the Maomao Mountain bandits survive by raiding homes and robbing travelers. They only have a few dozen core members, but each one is a skilled fighter with blood on their hands. Unless absolutely necessary, even the Tieguan Mountain bandits won't provoke them.
Besides, if the Tieguan Mountain bandits find out about this, they might even help the Maomao Mountain bandits capture you."
Jin Feng's smile vanished. He understood what Zhang Liang was saying.
If the Maomao Mountain bandits came to Xihewan to collect grain, the Tieguan Mountain bandits might fight back. But if the Maomao Mountain bandits were only here to deal with Jin Feng, the Tieguan Mountain bandits wouldn't lift a finger. After all, they wouldn't want to set a precedent of villagers killing bandits. If that happened, who would fear the bandits? Who would obediently hand over their grain?