Kevin Bolton was also extremely curious and followed Liam the Blacksmith into the room next door. On a large kang bed, there was a pile of stoves—at least twenty or so by the looks of it. Frank Johnson's eyes immediately went wide with shock as he asked, “Big Uncle Thompson, you made these in three days? Are you doing magic tricks to fool us?”

Liam the Blacksmith burst out laughing, “The one doing magic isn’t me, it’s Eric Bolton! If Second Nephew hadn’t told me to separate the processes, we couldn’t have worked this fast. I was only in charge of smelting the iron, the eldest made the molds, the second poured the castings, and the third made the racks for roasting meat. The four of us managed to finish half a month’s work in just three days! With this idea, when we make hoes and sickles next spring, Big Uncle will be able to sell at least a dozen more!”

For craftsmen, skill is everything. Division of labor is nothing special in modern times, but in the Ming Dynasty, it was truly advanced. The way Liam the Blacksmith and his sons looked at Kevin Bolton had completely changed—it was as if he was half a master to them.

“Second Nephew, just for your guidance, these stoves are yours for free!”

The Thompson Father and Son were helping him out, so Kevin Bolton would never take advantage of them. He hurriedly said, “Uncle Thompson, I’ll definitely need your help in the future. If you give these to me, I’d be too embarrassed to come to you for any profitable business next time!”

Liam the Blacksmith was momentarily stunned, then smiled with emotion, “Second Nephew is a man of integrity. Big Uncle wishes you a safe journey and hopes you bring back lots of silver—give Charles Walker a good run for his money!”

Everyone laughed as they moved the iron stoves out. Liam the Blacksmith had made a total of nineteen stoves; after removing three with cracks, there were sixteen left, weighing over a hundred jin altogether. One sled definitely couldn’t carry them all. So they had to use both sleds: the clothes went to George Johnson to carry, while Kevin Bolton took the dry rations and braised beef.

Frank Johnson stuck his butt out to push the sled, and amid shouts and barking dogs, this most ragtag caravan noisily set out on their journey.

Chapter 9: My Barbecue, My Rules

“Brother Kevin, you’ve read books, you know martial arts, you understand business, and now you even know how to forge iron. How is anyone supposed to compete with you?” Frank Johnson counted on his fingers, marveling at how the former bookworm had become a jack-of-all-trades, like a toad turning into a swan.

Kevin Bolton laughed, “I’m not good at everything. Take archery, for example—you two are my teachers. I’ll need to learn from you when I have time, so don’t hold back!”

Frank Johnson patted his chest with a loud smack, full of confidence. “Brother Kevin, I can’t speak for other things, but within dozens of li, my archery is top-notch. That’s no brag—I’ve personally shot down a gyrfalcon!”

A gyrfalcon—that’s a legendary bird of prey! To shoot one down is the mark of a master archer, on par with the Mongolian eagle shooters!

“Impressive! I’ll definitely have to learn from you.”

George Johnson laughed, “Don’t listen to the second brother brag. That falcon was already injured—he just got lucky, like a blind cat catching a dead mouse.”

“Big brother, even if it was healthy, it couldn’t escape my bow. If you don’t believe me, let’s test my archery!” Frank Johnson, unconvinced, pulled out his longbow, nocked an arrow, and looked around for a target.

“Second brother, why are you still acting like a child? There’s snow everywhere—what are you going to shoot? We need to hurry on our way!”

The eldest brother scolded, and Frank Johnson scratched his head. Just then, they climbed up a ridge, and ahead was a row of willow trees. At the edge of the willows, a yellow-black object was moving.

Frank Johnson immediately shouted excitedly, “Big brother, prey’s here! Watch me!”

He planted his feet, drew his bow with all his strength, and let an arrow fly with a whoosh.

“Frank Johnson, stop!”

Kevin Bolton suddenly shouted, but the arrow was already gone.

Frank Johnson looked confused. “Brother Kevin, why did you stop me?”

“That looked like a person,” Kevin Bolton said worriedly.

Before he finished speaking, an enraged voice rang out, “You little brat, I’ll chop you up!”

Frank Johnson was instantly terrified. He knew that voice all too well. “Dad! I just shot at my dad!”

His face turned deathly pale, his mind went blank.

“Dad, please don’t die!”

Frank Johnson didn’t even know which leg to move, so he just flopped onto the snow and rolled down the slope. Kevin Bolton and George Johnson were also scared out of their wits and scrambled to the edge of the woods.

Thomas Johnson, dressed in a tattered fur coat, stood there with a furious scowl. Behind him, an arrow was still quivering in a willow tree. Frank Johnson, covered in snow, grinned sheepishly, “Dad, you’re okay, right? As long as you’re okay, that’s good!”

“Hmph! If your old man wasn’t still nimble, my life would have ended at your hands!”

Kevin Bolton hadn’t expected Thomas Johnson to show up here and quickly asked, “Uncle Johnson, were you waiting for us?”

“Mm.” Thomas Johnson nodded. “Second Nephew, you said you were going to Guangning, and I couldn’t stop worrying. Last night I found a few old friends and got some things for you to defend yourselves!”

In a flash, Thomas Johnson brought out two strong bows, four quivers of arrows, and four long and short swords. Kevin Bolton might have been an amateur, but he could tell these weapons were finely made—definitely not shoddy goods.

Thomas Johnson hadn’t come to see them off, which had surprised Kevin Bolton, but now he understood—it was to get them weapons. This Uncle really was thoughtful.