Within a few days, Isaac Hall realized he had underestimated the resilience of people in this era. Although those few severely wounded men were covered in injuries—one even had a gaping wound in his chest—and Isaac Hall didn’t have the proper sutures, he could only crudely stitch the wounds with sterilized fishing line. After giving each of them a single, rationed anti-inflammatory pill, surprisingly, none of them developed infections. The group had barely rested a few days in Dalian before those severely wounded men were already starting to walk around.

Of course, this miracle also earned Isaac Hall even more respect. In fact, now when those Xianbei men looked at Isaac Hall, their gazes were no longer just respectful; there was a faint sense of fear. These most loyal warriors of the Yuwen tribe were now filled with dread toward this “great shaman doctor” who could seemingly bring the dead back to life. In their eyes, if Isaac Hall could revive the dead, he must also have the power to send someone straight to the underworld, killing them in an instant and condemning them to eternal damnation. So, whenever Isaac Hall walked past them, he often noticed that even the bravest warriors would involuntarily tremble slightly.

Another surprise this era gave Isaac Hall was the unimaginably abundant ecological resources. The hills teemed with wildlife, and fish, turtles, shrimp, and crabs could be easily caught on the beach, providing the wounded with plenty of protein. A few days later, as the lightly wounded recovered their strength and joined the hunts, the group’s food supply soared. Since they still needed to head to Goguryeo, the Xianbei wounded began frantically stockpiling food. Meanwhile, the four healthy attendants—Ben, Shawn, Zane, and Zack—were sent by Isaac Hall into the mountains to cut timber.

The purpose of logging was to build new rafts, or even new boats. The raft Isaac Hall had hastily built that first night was extremely crude. Everyone was anxious to leave, but also worried that lighting fires at night for illumination would attract the powerful Murong cavalry. The quality of the rafts built in the dark was easy to imagine; there hadn’t been time to twist proper ropes, so they used tree bark instead. When they rounded Lüshun Port, the huge waves at the confluence of the Bohai and Yellow Seas loosened the rafts. If they pressed on without repairs, it would be even more dangerous. So, Isaac Hall took the opportunity of building new rafts to stay put for a while—partly to let the wounded recover, and partly to give himself a chance to calm down.

Half a month passed in a flash, during which Isaac Hall was the most idle of all. When they first landed, while building the cabin for Shawn Irwin, Isaac Hall could still stand by with his arms crossed and offer some suggestions. But once Shawn Irwin’s cabin was finished, Isaac Hall gave himself a complete holiday. The lightly wounded were sent off to hunt, the severely wounded helped Shawn Irwin process the game—skinning and smoking it, busy and happy—while the healthy ones were climbing up and down the mountains, logging and hauling wood until they were utterly exhausted. Only Isaac Hall seemed to collapse, spending his days sitting dazed at the edge of the cliff, watching the sunrise and sunset, muttering to himself from time to time.

“Really? ...Maybe, maybe it’s true... In this chaotic era, where everyone is killing each other, how can one survive? ...Maybe I should be a merchant—no, now people pay with bloodshed, who can you reason with! ...What’s the use of amassing a huge fortune? To become a Shi Chong or a Shen Million? If the authorities want to seize your property, do they need a reason? ‘All under heaven belongs to the king’—that’s your answer...

Emigrate overseas? In this era of slaughter, where can you escape the bloodshed?—If nothing unexpected happens, all of Europe will soon be groaning under the Huns’ iron hooves...

Arm myself? What do I have to offer? This era of killing knows neither benevolence nor forgiveness; this isn’t a game where you can save and reload. One loss, and you’re doomed forever...

What should I do?”

A series of thunderous crashes seemed to punctuate these thoughts. It was the sound of giant logs sliding down the mountain ridge.

Isaac Hall had chosen this campsite precisely because of the cliff; felled logs could roll down the slope and tumble into the sea. In the evenings, the loggers would take rafts out to sea, hook the logs, and tow them back to the beach for processing.

Day after day, Isaac Hall lazed at the edge of the cliff, watching the tides rise and fall.

Ben, Shawn, Zane, and Zack were all diligent, not slacking off at all just because their supervisor was being lazy. Thanks to their efforts, the timber on the beach piled up higher and higher—enough to build two or three small boats. Yet Isaac Hall paid it no mind, until the exasperated Shawn Irwin finally came to find him.

“Sir Gao, when I was alone and helpless, you saved me from disaster. I am endlessly grateful,” Shawn Irwin stood at the edge of the cliff, gave Isaac Hall a graceful bow, and said calmly, “But I bear the hatred of a fallen nation and a ruined family, and dare not idle for even a moment. From now on, in all matters, I ask Sir Gao to decide what I should do.”

Ever since they met, Shawn Irwin had been eager to learn Isaac Hall’s background, but in the chaos, she hadn’t even had a chance to ask his name. Later, seeing that Isaac Hall was tall and imposing, she began calling him “Sir Gao,” and Isaac Hall, too lazy to correct her, let it be. Over time, the Yuwen attendants also started calling him “Mr. Gao,” so Isaac Hall simply abandoned his original name and referred to himself as “Isaac Hall.”

Perhaps, this too is history.