bookbashuk Chapter 492 The Big Red Rooster in the Small Mountain Village
Chapter 492 The Big Red Rooster in the Small Mountain Village
"Young man, this is my oldest son's room, but he was eaten by a demon. If you don't mind, you can stay here."
The village chief, holding a dim lantern, arranged a house for the swordsman. The house was very simple, but at least it had all the necessary bedding and was not drafty.
As for the fact that someone just died here, will it be unlucky?
You just have to get used to this kind of thing.
"Then I'm sorry to bother you."
The swordsman looked calm. After thinking for a while, he took out some change from his pocket and handed it to the village chief who was as old as a dead tree. However, the latter just waved his hand and left with the lantern.
With a creak, the wooden door was gently closed. The swordsman put down his package, took out some dry food and started eating with cold water. There was a rusty oil lamp on the table. The oil was a little black, but it should still be able to light up.
But the swordsman did not do so. He just sat on the ground by the window, where the moonlight shone through, and slowly chewed the dry food in his hand.
There was a figure on the bed with his back to him, hugging his knees silently and curled up in a ball. Turning on the light would certainly make it convenient for the swordsman, but it would disturb the real owner of the room.
After eating the dry food, the swordsman leaned against the wall, hugged his bamboo stick, and slowly closed his eyes. From beginning to end, he didn't say a word. As for the person who suddenly appeared on the bed, he just glanced at him and then no longer paid attention to him.
The moonlight was cold, and the swordsman wrapped his clothes tighter, but the person squatting on the bed didn't feel anything. He didn't move, like a rotten piece of wood.
The sun rose as usual. The swordsman opened his eyes, then turned his head and looked around. The bed was empty and there was not a wrinkle on the bedding. The swordsman was not surprised. He picked up his bamboo stick and pushed the door open.
"Get up so early?"
The village chief was holding a knife with blood on it, but don't get me wrong, after all, in his other hand he was holding a big red rooster that had just been slaughtered.
This rooster is really big and fat, and its feathers are even more beautiful.
"Well, I'm used to it."
The swordsman nodded. This was indeed true. He lived a very disciplined life and got up early not for any other reason but to practice swordplay.
"Young man, you are practicing swordplay, right? But why are you holding a bamboo stick, and dancing slower than an old man like me?"
The village chief had already boiled some hot water and started plucking the rooster. Since he had nothing else to do, he began talking to the swordsman without any intention of mocking him. After all, the way the swordsman practiced swordplay was indeed a bit strange.
It's like dancing slowly with a stick.
The swordsman did not answer and concentrated on practicing his sword. The village chief did not mind. He plucked the rooster's feathers and then quickly gutted it and took out the internal organs. There was no waste. Even the chicken intestines were handled properly.
"There's chicken soup for lunch and noodles for breakfast."
The village chief cleaned up the mess, then said something to the swordsman. Without waiting for the swordsman's reply, he turned and walked towards the kitchen. It was just dawn and it was actually still very early.
The swordsman continued to practice with the sword. In the room of the village eldest son, a somewhat blurry figure stood expressionlessly in front of the window, watching the swordsman practice with the sword quietly.
This is a poor little mountain village. The village chief's house is not very big, and not far away are the mud houses of other villagers. Everyone is a neighbor and they see each other every day.
At this moment, the neighbors all got up early and stood in the shadow in front of the window, expressionless and with a pair of dead eyes, quietly watching the swordsman practicing sword.
The entire small mountain village was so quiet that there was not even the sound of chickens crowing or dogs barking. It was eerily quiet.
"time to eat!"
The village chief shouted, and the figure in front of the window disappeared instantly. The swordsman stopped, adjusted his breathing, and then walked towards the kitchen.
An enticing aroma can already be smelled in the air, but it will take some time to cook the soup. This morning I had white noodles with a little salt and nothing else.
Although it was simple, compared to the swordsman's hard dry food, it was already a rare delicacy.
"Thanks."
The swordsman seemed a little surprised. He just said thank you and without waiting for the village chief to call him, he picked up the noodles and started eating, slurping them up, not treating himself as an outsider at all.
The village chief looked at the swordsman eating noodles and seemed to be smiling happily, but he just watched the swordsman eat. He only symbolically picked up the bowl in front of him twice with chopsticks and had no intention of eating at all.
The swordsman finished drinking the noodle soup, then stood up and walked to the yard. He looked around, walked straight to the firewood pile, put down the bamboo stick, picked up the axe on the ground and started chopping wood.
It seemed like he wanted to use this method to repay the village chief's hospitality, but it didn't seem quite right.
The swordsman chopped the wood with his axe, neither hurried nor slow. The trajectory of each fall of the axe was almost exactly the same as the previous one. The crackling sound rang out rhythmically, echoing in the deserted mountain village.
The village chief sat nearby and watched. Smoke rose from the kitchen chimney, and the aroma in the air became more and more rich and tempting.
The whole morning passed like this. Following the village chief's call, the swordsman put down the axe in his hand, wiped the sweat off his face, picked up the bamboo stick and walked towards the house.
"Young man, come and try this chicken soup that I've been stewing for almost the whole morning. It smells delicious!"
The village chief first served a bowl to the swordsman, then served himself, and then couldn't wait to drink it. The village chief was right, the chicken soup was indeed delicious.
It smells so good that it can bring out the deepest gluttony in one’s heart!
But the swordsman remained unmoved. He just watched the village chief wolfing down his food without saying a word.
"Young man, what do I have to see? Come on, drink some. There are also some chicken offal on the table. They are fried with the best wild delicacies. They are delicious!"
Seeing that the swordsman didn't move his chopsticks, the village chief hurriedly urged him to move. He didn't know if it was an illusion, but the fragrance in the air seemed to be a little stronger.
But the swordsman remained unmoved.
The village chief drank almost half of the pot of chicken soup. Logically, this old man who was as thin as a dead tree should have been full long ago, but he couldn't control his hands and mouth.
How can you stop drinking such delicious chicken soup?
"Drink it quickly! Drink it quickly!!"
The village chief was a little anxious and stared at the swordsman in front of him. He seemed to understand something. The fragrance in the air had reached a level that no one could resist!
But the swordsman just closed his eyes and remained unmoved.
In the end, the whole pot of chicken soup, including the chicken offal fried with wild delicacies, all went into the village chief's stomach. With a strange noise, the swordsman opened his eyes and tapped the bamboo stick in his hand. A lively big red rooster in front of him immediately let out a shrill cry, twitched twice, and then died.
The swordsman stood up, scooped up water from the jar, washed his hands carefully, then walked to the stove, picked up the bowl of clumping noodles, and began to eat.
This is the swordsman’s lunch.