Transmigration? Brian Clark never even considered that possibility. He deeply suspected that someone had knocked him out and sold him off to some remote mountain village to be someone’s son. Hm? Yes! Just like that—taking someone else’s surname, used solely as a tool to continue the family line.

Women? Well! So far, only an old lady who didn’t seem to know what she was doing had shown up—no young women yet. But! Brian Clark firmly believed that one day Uncle would bring a woman over, and that would mark the beginning of a stud’s life...

“Eat!”

It seemed to be those two syllables, right? So far, that was the only word Brian Clark could understand, and after all, nothing is more important than eating. When he turned his head, Uncle was, as usual, standing in front of a stone table, holding a dark pot in each of his large hands, motioning for him to hurry over.

The stone table was literally just a pile of stones of various sizes, stacked into an oval, upright shape. The tabletop was uneven, and the pots, placed on the smaller stones, were slightly tilted. The pots themselves were simple—round, shallow, filled with some clear water mixed with beans, not a trace of oil to be seen.

Beans were just a type of legume, and eating them was only to fill the stomach—there was no taste to speak of.

Brian Clark had always been puzzled by one thing. It was one thing for people here to eat this nameless food, and the lack of oil was tolerable, but there was barely any saltiness either—though you could just grit your teeth and get through it. But! Why were there no chopsticks? Instead, they used some kind of slightly modified plant root, shaped like a spoon, to scoop up the food?

Uncle glared with wide eyes, shoveling beans into his big mouth with a “smack smack” sound, almost the same scene every mealtime. His brows were bunched together, giving him a strangely fierce look. To eat like that—honestly, calling him a mountain bandit was not only accurate, but vivid.

Usually, during meals, Uncle would just squat and focus on eating beans, but today was a bit different. After a few bites, he would stop and look at Brian Clark, his expression hard to describe—maybe ashamed, maybe helpless.

Brian Clark noticed Uncle’s odd behavior, and that strange look in his eyes even made him a little uneasy. He listened to the dialect he couldn’t understand, and couldn’t help but think, “Looks like he’s found a woman to continue the family line? Is the stud life about to begin?” And, perhaps, he even felt a bit of anticipation? He just hoped the woman brought in wouldn’t be too terrible.

To his surprise, after eating for a while, Uncle suddenly pulled something out from his chest and handed it to Brian Clark, his thick eyebrows and big eyes blinking, lips moving constantly.

If he could understand, Uncle was saying: “Young man, this isn’t exactly honorable, but I have no choice. There are no strong men left at home to serve in the army. Eat this dried meat, and when you get to the frontier, do your best to stay alive.”

Brian Clark looked down at the dried lump of meat, even sniffed it, and shook his head firmly: “Uncle, eating this will give me diarrhea.” How could it not? Who knew how long it had been hidden in his clothes—it reeked of sweat.

Uncle couldn’t understand what Brian Clark was saying, but he got the meaning from his actions. He seemed a bit embarrassed at being refused, surprised that this young man would actually turn down meat. Miraculously, he didn’t shout as usual, but put down the empty pot and sighed as he walked toward the thatched hut.

Brian Clark had a bad feeling, though he couldn’t quite figure out why, as Uncle came out holding a bundle in his left hand and a long object, very much like a ge, in his right.

In an instant, Brian Clark was completely stunned. That long object wasn’t just similar—it was actually a ge!

“Take it off, put this on.”

Uncle didn’t care what Brian Clark was thinking. He shoved the bundle at him, handed over the ge, and turned back into the hut.

Brian Clark stared blankly at the heavy items in his hands, curiously opened the bundle, and found a set of plain gray hemp clothes inside—they looked pretty old. Digging further, he felt metal, and was shocked again when he saw it: it was a piece of armor sewn with bronze plates! Judging by the look of it, the armor was quite old too. As for the weapon, though it had been well maintained, the passage of time was still evident. When he tapped the hooked blade, he could still hear a faint buzzing sound.

But... Brian Clark was dumbfounded—what was Uncle giving him these antiques for? He was shocked: “Could it be... Uncle is a relic smuggler!?”

When Uncle came out again, he was solemnly holding a leather helmet, with a heavy bundle slung over his back.

“Um... Smuggling relics is illegal, you’ll get invited by the state to eat peanuts!”

“Peanuts” meant bullets, but not only could Uncle not understand what Brian Clark was saying, even if he could, he probably wouldn’t care.

Uncle said something, clearly displeased that Brian Clark was just standing there not changing into the armor. He barked something and actually came over to help.

The end result was that Brian Clark, dazed and confused, was stripped of his outer clothes and clumsily dressed in the gray long tunic and the armor.

And that wasn’t the end of it. Brian Clark was practically turned into a doll, and except for his hair not being long enough for a tall crown, he was belted, had his legs bound, and finally had the leather helmet shoved onto his head. Standing there holding the ge, with his sturdy build, he actually looked rather imposing.