The third year of Dazong, winter.
Below the Beacon Tower of Lingdouzi Village.
A commotion erupted from inside a thatched hut.
Sergeant Cui Yijiao, stationed at the Beacon Tower in Lingdouzi Village, frowned as he looked at a young man collapsed in the corner of the room.
"Wu Er, why the hell did you hit him so hard?"
Wu Er lowered his head, looking at his hands in confusion, his face full of innocence.
But he didn't dare to retort, only pondering to himself.
He hadn't really hit him that hard, just a few slaps. How did this kid die?
Li Xiong, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the fire, watched the two with cold eyes.
He was a cunning old soldier, always adept at seeking advantage and avoiding harm.
He saw clearly that Lin Feng had been kicked in the chest and abdomen by Cui Yijiao's deadly kick, and his head had hit a broken piece of wood on the wall, causing him to collapse and die.
Cui Yijiao's entire skill lay in his feet; this time, his kick was a bit heavy.
But he wouldn't say much.
There were also two raggedly dressed women in the room, huddled in a corner, trembling in fear.
It was unclear if it was from the shock of the death or the cold.
Sergeant Cui Yijiao waved Wu Er over, and the three gathered by the fire to discuss how to handle the matter.
"Just find a place to bury him. I'll talk to his father."
Wu Er was indifferent.
"Report it as a battle casualty; we can even get some compensation to share."
Li Xiong's thinking was thorough.
"There was no battle, so where would the casualty come from?"
Cui Yijiao said irritably.
Wu Er's triangular eyes lit up: "Say he fell from the Beacon Tower and died?"
"That's not a bad idea..."
Cui Yijiao stroked his chin, lost in thought.
No one noticed that the young man lying dead in the corner of the room slowly opened his eyes at this moment.
He looked at the scene before him with a bewildered expression.
Just a moment ago, he was nervously putting on a life vest. How did he suddenly end up like this?
Before he could figure it out, his brain suddenly boomed, and countless memories surged in like a tide.
In just a moment, he understood the situation before him.
He had unexpectedly transmigrated into this body due to a plane crash, and this person shared his name, also called Lin Feng.
This body belonged to an ordinary border archer in the Zhenxi Border Army of the Dazong Dynasty.
He was nineteen years old this year, from a local farming family.
Although this person was strong and powerful, his personality was extremely weak and timid.
Therefore, almost all the heavy, tiring, and dirty work at the Beacon Tower in Lingdouzi Village was handled by him.
Having served as a Zhenxi Border Army archer for over three years, almost all the money and grain he received were embezzled by the Sergeant and others, leaving him to rely on his family's few barren acres for sustenance.
It was especially cold today, and the original Lin Feng had been sitting at the top of the Beacon Tower for over two hours.
Coupled with his hunger, knowing that no one would voluntarily come to relieve him, he gritted his teeth and secretly descended from the Beacon Tower.
He originally wanted to go inside to warm up before returning to his post, but as soon as he stepped through the door, Wu Er started cursing and slapped him several times.
Seeing everyone in the room warming themselves by the fire, with fragrant sweet potatoes, he covered his slapped face and softly tried to explain a few words, which only angered Sergeant Cui Yijiao.
Without a word, he kicked him in the chest and abdomen.
As a result, he became the current Lin Feng.
This body, forced by its father to practice the family's Tong Bei Fist daily, had already honed its bones and muscles to be extremely tough. How could he have been kicked to death by one blow?
This person lived far too miserably.
However, these bastards in front of him were also quite wicked.
Constantly bullying people, and for what? Just for coming down to warm up? Was it necessary to beat someone to death?
Forget it. Since his Soul has vanished, I'll settle the score for you.
The current Lin Feng, in his previous life, was a successor of ancient martial arts from a Secluded Sect, with a particular fondness for cold weapons. He had deeply researched this Dao for nearly thirty years, and his skills were unmatched in the current era.
From a young age, due to his extraordinary talent, he was pampered by his Master and Senior Brothers. He had never suffered any disadvantage, internally or externally, so how could he tolerate such humiliation?
He moved his body slightly, finding no other injuries, just a lingering headache.
Supporting himself with his hands, he sat up from the ground and frowned, looking at the three fellows by the fire.
Sergeant Cui Yijiao, Ranger Li Xiong, and archer Wu Er.
While these three fellows weren't paying attention, he pondered which one to strike first with a heavy hand.
In Lin Feng's eyes, dealing with these guys was effortless, but he currently felt a bit weak.
Suddenly, he was drawn by the sweet aroma of sweet potatoes.
No matter how strong this body was, it couldn't endure without food.
From his memories, he had a disabled elderly father and a sister under ten years old at home. The family of three relied entirely on Lin Feng's military rations, as their few barren acres had yielded nothing due to drought.
The army hadn't seen a single grain of rice for three months.
Even if the Zhenxi Army had distributed grain, Cui Yijiao would have withheld it.
The sack of coarse rice distributed three months ago was even mixed with half a sack of sand.
Lin Feng suspected Cui Yijiao was behind that too.
A nineteen-year-old youth, drinking a few bowls of watery rice gruel that you could see your reflection in every day, how could that sustain him?
Therefore, in Lin Feng's eyes at this moment, there were only the two blackened sweet potatoes roasting by the fire.
Ignoring his dizziness, he got up, grabbed a sweet potato, and took a large bite. Even though it was so hot he had to gasp, he forced himself to swallow it.
The three men around the fire hadn't noticed yet, but the woman crouching in the other corner of the wall had already shrieked.
She was Wu Er's wife.
Wu Er was a sycophant; not only did he grovel and curry favor with Sergeant Cui Yijiao, he also dragged his wife along to serve him.
The three men turned their heads to find Wu Er's wife staring at the space beside them in terror.
Then they suddenly saw Lin Feng, fiercely gnawing on a sweet potato.
Wu Er immediately jumped up in fright, then started stomping and cursing.
"Lin Feng, you bastard, how dare you scare me! It's a good thing I didn't beat you to death just now, you dog!"
Lin Feng ignored Wu Er. In a moment, one sweet potato, skin and all, had been devoured.
Sergeant Cui Yijiao, however, breathed a sigh of relief. It was good that the man wasn't dead; he didn't care about that small amount of compensation.
He wasn't afraid of taking responsibility; if such a simpleton died, so be it.
But this year, tens of thousands of Tiezhen Tribe cavalry were invading the border. According to messages from the Border Army, the Tartars were fierce and brutal, unstoppable.
Guarding the Beacon Tower, having one more person was always better than one less.
Especially with a simpleton like Lin Feng, when the Tartars arrived, making him stand in front would be much better than killing him himself.
Lost in thought, Lin Feng, still unsatisfied, reached for the second sweet potato.
Wu Er cursed and raised his foot to kick Lin Feng's head and face.
Wu Er, emboldened by his favored status from flattering the Sergeant, had made a habit of hitting and scolding Lin Feng daily.
Lin Feng grabbed the sweet potato with one hand, and with the other, he flipped and swung it out, carrying his intention to counterattack and the body's inherent toughness.
Tong Bei Fist emphasizes using waist strength to drive the shoulders and arms, making the entire arm and palm a weapon, like swinging a whip.
He struck later but arrived first, with a "crack," hitting Wu Er in the face.
Although his movements were a bit stiff, this body had some resistance to his brain's intention to counterattack.
But dealing with a ruffian like Wu Er was still effortless.
Wu Er's foot was only halfway through its kick when his body was knocked over by the palm strike. He screamed and fell towards Cui Yijiao.
Cui Yijiao stood up, reached out to support Wu Er, and looked at Lin Feng in surprise.
Wu Er's cheek instantly swelled up high, and some of his back molars were loose.
Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
Ignoring the pain, he stared at Lin Feng with wide, triangular eyes.
Just now, he and Cui Yijiao had repeatedly slapped and kicked Lin Feng, and the fellow hadn't shown the slightest resistance, only curling up and taking the blows, not even daring to dodge.
Could he have gone mad after hitting his head?
Seeing the men fighting again, the two women huddled in the corner, continuing to tremble in fear.
Li Xiong had previously roamed the Jianghu; he was slick and cunning, and quite worldly.
Lin Feng's slap was fast and powerful.
Seeing Wu Er's miserable state, he kept his fingers on the hilt of his saber, not daring to act rashly.
Wu Er clutched his cheek, screaming hysterically.
"Brother Cui, this... this kid is rebelling! Kill him!"