In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

When Yang Guangming returned to that narrow, dimly lit room, his father, Yang Huai-ren, was leaning against the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), staring blankly at the ceiling.

Hearing the noise, he slowly turned his head, his gaze questioning. "Guangming, you're back? Your grandfather... called you out alone, did he say something?"

Yang Huai-ren's voice was still hoarse, but slightly more stable than before, though there was an unspeakable weariness hidden deep in his tone.

Yang Guangming walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), picked up half a bowl of cold water, carefully moistened his dry, almost parched lips, and then swallowed the bitter-tasting cold water, which slightly relieved the burning sensation in his throat.

He put down the broken bowl before speaking: "Yes. Grandpa mainly wants me to persuade you."

"What are you trying to persuade me to do?" Yang Huai-ren moved, which aggravated his injured leg, causing his lips to twitch and him to gasp.

"I advise you to agree to go and stay with your aunt's family." Yang Guangming didn't hide anything and said it directly.

He noticed that his father's back stiffened instantly when he heard the words "go to live with his aunt".

"Grandpa thinks that's the safest option right now, at least it'll provide shelter from the wind and rain, so we won't have to sleep on the streets."

He said your aunt is your own sister, she's always doted on you since you were little, and she wouldn't just stand by and watch our family suffer. My uncle is also a reasonable person; although the yard isn't spacious, we can always squeeze in."

Yang Huai-ren remained silent, his face showing no surprise, but his brows were tightly furrowed, forming a deep frown.

He lowered his head, looking at his swollen and shiny injured leg, his hands unconsciously gripping the rough edge of the kang mat beneath him.

After a long while, he whispered in an almost inaudible voice, "Living under someone else's roof..." These three words seemed to weigh a ton, making it hard for him to breathe.

He looked up at his son, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "So... what do you think? Do you want to go to your aunt's?"

He threw the question back at his son, seemingly hoping to find some support in his son's attitude.

Yang Guangming didn't answer immediately. He walked to the window and looked out at the gray sky through the gaps in the tattered window paper.

A few weak cries of vendors echoed from the alley, and further away, the sound of children crying could be heard; everything was shrouded in an oppressive atmosphere.

He turned around, his figure appearing exceptionally serene in the dimly lit room against the light from the window.

“Father,” he said calmly, with a composure beyond his years, “I think there’s no need to rush into a decision on this matter.”

He sat down next to his father. "Grandpa meant well, and my aunt is also a close relative. We are connected by blood, and she can be relied on in critical moments, so it's naturally a good thing."

But we haven't reached the point of being completely desperate and having to seek refuge there immediately.

The landlord isn't coming to collect the rent for another two days, right? Let's wait and see, maybe..."

He paused, a hint of unwavering certainty creeping into his voice, "Perhaps we'll find a turning point in the next couple of days."

He paused, then continued his analysis, his logic and reasoning surprisingly clear for a seventeen-year-old:

"Even if we really have to move, we can think of other ways. It's not like going to my aunt's house is the only option."

"Beijing is such a big city, there must be some cheaper, run-down houses and small apartments out there. We can look for those first. The key is, we have to establish ourselves first."

Yang Huai-ren listened to his son's clear and logical words, his expression becoming even more complicated.

He knew perfectly well that going to his sister's house was a ready-made way to survive and avoid the hardship of being homeless.

But the feeling of being dependent on others, the thought of potentially adding such a heavy burden to his already struggling sister and brother-in-law's family, the thought of possibly having to face the somewhat snobbish mother-in-law's attitude, and even the possibility of making things difficult for his sister in her husband's family, made him feel as if a huge stone was pressing on his heart, making it hard to breathe.

His son's words struck a chord with him. If he could avoid going, then of course it would be best not to.

Even if you find a dilapidated shack that can only cover half the roof, drink cold water and eat tree bark, you will feel at ease. You don't have to worry about what others think of you or bear that invisible pressure.

“You’re right.” Yang Huai-ren let out a long sigh of relief. “Then… let’s wait a little longer. Let’s see how things go when the landlord arrives.”

The decision to temporarily refrain from making any decisions seemed to give him a moment's respite, and his mind was no longer as tense as before. However, the harsh realities of life immediately pressed down on him again.

He looked at his son, his face filled with undisguised helplessness and anxiety: "But the family... can't wait any longer."

"We have no rice, no money, and I'm a useless burden on us. We can't just wait for a windfall."

His gaze swept across the empty house, so empty that a mouse could run across it, and finally landed on the empty rice jar in the corner, which even a mouse wouldn't bother with.

As they were talking, Mother Chu Yuanjun silently slung a worn-out bamboo basket over her shoulder.

She walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), and first carefully helped Yang Huai Ren adjust his leaning position so that his injured leg would be more comfortable. Then she reached out and gently took the cold little hands of her two daughters.

"Huai Ren, Guang Ming" (meaning "benevolence and enlightenment")

Her voice still carried the hoarseness and nasal tone from her recent crying, but her eyes had regained a motherly resilience. "I'll take Jingwan and Jingyi to find her second and third aunts, and we'll go out of town to dig some wild vegetables."

I heard there's still some purslane and shepherd's purse left in the fields outside the moat. We can't just... wait to starve to death at home.”

Her voice trembled slightly when she said the word "starve to death," but she quickly regained her composure.

Looking at his wife's sallow complexion and his two daughters' thin faces with only their big eyes showing, Yang Huai-ren felt a pang of pain in his heart, as if he were being tightly gripped by an invisible hand, suffocating him.

His throat tightened, and he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. He could only nod heavily and squeeze out a few words from deep in his throat: "Go... come back soon, be careful, don't go too far, I heard it's not safe outside the city..."

Chu Yuanjun responded, then glanced at his son with concern. His lips moved as if he wanted to give some instructions, but in the end, it turned into a barely audible sigh.

Yang Guangming immediately said, "Mother, you go ahead, be careful. I was just about to go out too."

He tidied himself up quickly, trying to look as energetic and neat as possible.

"Where are you going?" Yang Huai-ren asked, his gaze falling on his son's still somewhat thin shoulders. "Are you going to the station or street corner to find odd jobs?"

"Well, I'll go try my luck." Yang Guangming didn't say much. He didn't want to give his father a fixed destination, so as to avoid having to explain things later.

"Dad, please rest well at home. Don't put any strain on your leg or put it on the ground. It takes a hundred days to recover from a broken bone, so you need to take good care of yourself." He reminded him again.

Yang Huai-ren opened his mouth, wanting to tell him not to force himself if he couldn't find work, wanting to tell him that if all else failed... but a thousand words stuck in his chest, ultimately turning into only a heavy, almost suffocating admonition:
"You should also be careful. The world is not peaceful, the streets are chaotic, if you can't find work, come back early, don't work too hard, okay?"

That "Ah?" was filled with endless bitterness and helplessness.

"I understand, Dad," Yang Guangming replied, glancing again at his mother and sisters who were about to leave.

The older sister, Jingwan, looked at him with eyes full of dependence, while the younger sister, Jingyi, timidly clung to her mother's clothes.

He nodded slightly to them, giving them a reassuring look, then turned and walked out of the room filled with despair.

As the sun shone brightly, it emerged from the narrow alley and blended into the gray, lifeless streets of Beiping.

There weren't many pedestrians on the street, and those who were were pale and hurried along, their eyes vacant, like moving shadows.

Occasionally, a dilapidated rickshaw or military truck would drive by, kicking up a cloud of choking dust and leaving behind a pungent smell of gasoline.

He determined the direction and headed towards the outskirts.

The further you go, the sparser and lower the houses become, mostly crooked mud houses or shacks made of broken bricks and tiles.

There were even fewer pedestrians, and the few you did see were ragged and had empty eyes.

His goal was clear: he knew there was a small local products shop ahead, but because of its remote location, few people frequented it.

After walking about two streets and turning into an even smaller alley, he finally saw the storefront he remembered.

The shop was small, with badly peeling paint on the doors and windows, revealing rotten wood underneath. The signboard was also crooked, and the four characters "Liu's Local Products" were covered with a thick layer of dust, making them almost illegible.

There was a pile of unidentified junk in front of the shop, covered in dust.

Yang Guangming stopped in his tracks, seemingly casually but actually cautiously surveying his surroundings.

The alley was deep, with high, mottled courtyard walls on both sides, and hardly any pedestrians could be seen. Only in the distance was a skinny stray dog ​​rummaging through a pile of garbage. After confirming that the environment was safe, he then stepped inside.

The shop was dimly lit, with only a little bit of daylight coming in through the entrance, barely illuminating the interior.

The shelves were scattered with baskets, hemp ropes, rough pottery bowls and jars, rusty farm tools and other odds and ends, all covered in dust. It seemed that business was extremely slow and no one had been paying attention to them for a long time.

Behind the counter, there was only an old shopkeeper with thinning gray hair, dozing off in a creaky, broken bamboo chair, his head nodding off, drool almost dripping onto his clothes.

Hearing footsteps, he lazily lifted his heavy eyelids, his cloudy eyes reflecting a long-term numbness.

"What would you like to buy, sir?" The old shopkeeper's voice was weak and listless, as if he had been starving for a long time.

Yang Guangming quickly scanned the store and confirmed that there was indeed only the owner inside.

He had a good idea of ​​what was going on. These remote, quiet little shops, where there was almost no money to be made, were most likely to be looked down upon or ignored by the "special envoys" sent by the higher authorities to oversee the implementation of policies.

He had such concerns because the gold yuan had just been introduced and was being strictly enforced.

On August 19th, just a few days ago, the government officially implemented the Gold Yuan, mandating that all transactions must use this new currency and strictly enforcing the so-called "August 19th price limit," which required all commodity prices to be frozen at the level of August 19th, prohibiting price increases in an attempt to curb the out-of-control inflation.

At the same time, individuals are strictly prohibited from holding silver dollars, gold, silver and foreign currency. They must exchange them for gold yuan notes at banks before September 30th. Violators will be severely punished and may even face imprisonment.

Those larger, better-located, and more prosperous shops were all watched by special people like hawks to ensure that both buyers and sellers used gold yuan notes, and that prices dared not exceed the limit. Any slight deviation would result in severe punishment.

But here, that kind of "treatment" is clearly not available.

This gave Yang Guangming room to maneuver.

Yang Guangming didn't have any gold yuan notes, but his refrigerator could generate ten silver dollars every day.

The fifty kilograms of gold that are refreshed daily in the space are too valuable to use easily. For daily expenses, it is more convenient to use silver coins.

Since no one was supervising him, he naturally didn't need to go to the bank to exchange for gold yuan notes, and the shop owner would certainly be more willing to accept real, clinking silver dollars.

"Boss, I'd like to buy a fish basket and a landing net," Yang Guangming said directly. His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet shop.

The old shopkeeper paused for a moment, then slowly stood up, his movements sluggish, and habitually offered a compliment: "You look like a capable person. My fish baskets and landing nets are of very good quality. I guarantee you'll have a great catch today."

As he spoke, he bent down and began rummaging through the dusty corner under the shelves, making rustling sounds.

After a while, he finally dragged out a fish basket that looked fairly sturdy but was also covered in dust, and a simple landing net with a fine mesh made of thin bamboo poles tied with iron rings. He lifted it with difficulty and placed it on the dusty counter, stirring up a cloud of dust.

"Here, that's all. They've been sitting for a while, but the quality is fine. They look sturdy."

Yang Guangming examined the fish basket; it was made of bamboo and the structure was intact. The bamboo pole of the landing net had some splinters, and the iron ring was a bit rusty, but overall it was usable.

"It's alright. How much?" he asked.

The old shopkeeper glanced at him, gave him a price in gold yuan notes.

Bamboo baskets and nets are not scarce items, and their prices are not high.

Yang Guangming didn't speak. He reached into his pocket, and with a thought, pulled out a heavy silver coin from his spatial storage and gently placed it on the dusty wooden counter.

"Dang Cang——"

The silver coin landed on the counter with a crisp, pleasant sound, which seemed particularly out of place in the lifeless shop.

The old shopkeeper's eyes suddenly lit up like an oil lamp, and the languor and numbness on his face vanished, replaced by an expression that mixed surprise and greed.

He practically pounced on it, grabbing the silver coin with a swiftness that belied his age.

He first brought the silver dollar close to his eyes, carefully examined the pattern and purity on it, and then habitually put it to his lips and blew on it forcefully before quickly bringing it to his ear, holding his breath and listening intently.

The lingering, clear aftertaste smoothed out every deep wrinkle on his face, revealing an irrepressible look of satisfaction.

He glanced warily at the empty alley outside the door before lowering his voice, almost in a whisper, and asked, "Sir, are you sure you want to use this?" His fingers gripped the silver coin tightly.

"Okay." Yang Guangming nodded, his expression unchanged. "Could you please give me some change?"

According to regulations, one silver dollar could be exchanged for two gold yuan notes.

At this time, the gold yuan had only been issued for a short time, and there were no immediate signs of collapse in the market. According to the regulations, gold yuan could only be used to buy things.

In supervised areas, only gold yuan notes could be openly used. If you had silver dollars, you had to exchange them at a bank before you could use them.

The old shopkeeper clearly preferred dealing in silver dollars, as it was much more reliable than collecting gold yuan notes that were destined to depreciate.

He quickly calculated the accounts, then pulled an old wooden box from under the counter, opened it, and found brand-new gold yuan notes inside.

He began to carefully count the money and give change.

After giving him the change, the old shopkeeper carefully wiped the dust off the fish basket and net, then handed them to Yang Guangming with a big smile.

Yang Guangming didn't say anything more. He took the tools, turned around, and quickly left the local products shop that reeked of staleness.

Behind him, the old shopkeeper held the silver coin, still warm from the other man's touch, and a genuine, almost radiant smile appeared on his face—the first one he'd shown in days. Yang Guangming, carrying his newly bought fish basket and net, continued walking towards the river outside the city. His choice of fishing as his primary source of income was a well-considered one.

First, it's relatively reasonable. There are waterways around Beiping, and although there aren't many fish, some people still supplement their income by fishing, so it wouldn't seem too out of place.

Secondly, it's convenient and effective immediately.

He has a refrigerator-like space and a three-meter range of mental energy, which is very efficient when used for fishing.

Most importantly, this provided him with a perfect excuse to subsequently provide money and supplies.

Later, when he takes money home, he can say it's from selling fish. When he takes grain home, he can say it's from exchanging it with someone for the fish.

Arriving at the riverbank outside the city, the place appeared even more desolate and dilapidated than the city itself.

The river is narrow, and the banks are overgrown with weeds taller than a person, but the water is relatively clear.

In the distance, one can see some bare earthen slopes and abandoned cave dwellings, adding to the desolation.

Occasionally, one or two emaciated people with vacant eyes can be seen wandering on the riverbank in the distance, heads down, seemingly searching for the last bit of food or digging up bitter grass roots.

Yang Guangming didn't approach those people. He walked downstream along the riverbank, deliberately avoiding areas where people might be, looking for a place that was secluded enough, easy to observe the surroundings, and suitable for "operation".

After walking for more than ten minutes, he found an ideal river bend.

The river bends here, forming a backwater area where the current is slower and the aquatic plants are relatively more abundant, theoretically making it easier for fish to hide.

More importantly, there is a large, dense reed bed at the river bend, and several crooked, sparse willow trees on the bank, which provide good visual cover.

Standing here, he can clearly see the way he came and the situation on the other side of the river, without being easily spotted.

He didn't start "fishing" immediately. Instead, he put down the fish basket and net, pretended to tidy up his tools, and actually observed his surroundings more cautiously.

The wind rustled through the reeds, and occasionally a few birds called from afar.

After confirming that there was no one in sight and that I hadn't even started working, a fierce hunger pang struck me again.

He had only had a piece of candy in his mouth and a bowl of water so clear you could see your reflection in it since he woke up in the morning. He was already feeling weak and sore all over, as if countless hands were scratching at his stomach.

I hadn't felt it while walking, but now that I've stopped, this feeling of being completely drained is especially noticeable.

He leaned against the rough trunk of a crooked willow tree, making sure his body was hidden by the trunk and the drooping branches, and then his consciousness sank into the space.

He quickly located the prepared cooked food in the refrigerated section.

With a slight thought, a soft, snow-white meat bun appeared in his hand, and the rich aroma of meat instantly filled his nostrils, causing his mouth to water.

He resisted the urge to wolf it down and ate the bun in a few bites. The food brought immense comfort to his empty stomach.

After finishing a few meat buns, he took out a few pieces of his favorite snacks, chewed them slowly, and swallowed them.

Once the food was in my stomach, the burning, agonizing hunger was finally completely suppressed. A warm current spread from my stomach to my limbs and bones, and the feeling of weakness and powerlessness gradually subsided, giving me strength and energy again.

He exhaled softly, feeling that the world had become much clearer.

After replenishing his energy, Yang Guangming began to officially implement his plan.

He rolled up his trouser legs all the way to his thighs, revealing his slender but well-defined calves.

He pretended to go into the river, holding the net in one hand and the empty fish basket in the other, carefully stepping into the murky, icy river water.

The river water at the end of August was at a pleasantly cool temperature.

The river water near the bank wasn't deep, just knee-deep, and the bottom was covered in silt and weeds, making it soft, slippery, and sticky to the touch. But he didn't really intend to fish using traditional methods.

In fact, the moment he stepped into the water, his mind had already begun to work like an invisible radar.

Centered on him, a three-meter radius area formed an absolute control zone, and the underwater situation was clearly reflected in his mind.

The river water on the bank was somewhat murky, and visibility was low, but this did not affect his "perception" in the slightest.

He could clearly perceive the dark green aquatic plants swaying on the bottom of the water, the dead branches and leaves that had settled, the snails hidden in the silt, and the various life forms of different sizes swimming and moving among them.

There weren't many fish; most were small, inconspicuous fish. Occasionally, you could spot one or two palm-sized crucian carp or common carp, cautiously foraging in the mud at the river bend, moving swiftly and warily.

He focused his mind on a crucian carp, weighing about two ounces, that was swimming slowly near the water plants, and silently said "Catch it."

The next second, the crucian carp that was still wagging its tail disappeared from the murky river water and appeared in the empty space of the refrigerator after it finished eating. It was then transferred to the fish basket.

The three-meter collection range is highly efficient and silent, without disturbing the fish or attracting the attention of any potential bystanders.

Without further hesitation, he began to concentrate, continuously scanning for underwater life within a three-meter radius centered on himself.

He accepts any edible fish or shrimp, regardless of size, even tiny fry the length of a finger or river shrimp hiding among the roots of aquatic plants. He locks onto each one with his mind, transfers them through space, and then puts them into the fish basket.

While fishing, he also had to keep a close eye on his surroundings, listening for any rustling sounds and scanning the riverbanks and the distant open fields with vigilance.

As time passed, the number of fish and shrimp in the bamboo basket increased.

Crucian carp, common carp, silver carp, various other fish whose names I don't know, and a lot of green-shelled river shrimp were crammed together in the fish basket.

It took less than two hours to fill the fish basket, and judging by its weight, it probably weighed a little over thirty pounds.

In the current environment, this is already a rather astonishing and eye-catching "gain".

Sunlight stopped shining, and he let out a long sigh of relief, ready to call it a day.

Today's "gains" are enough to serve as an excuse to gain the trust of my family.

He lifted the fish basket and felt it was a little heavy.

The weight of over 30 kilograms was indeed quite strenuous for his body, which had been suffering from long-term malnutrition and was still in its developmental stage.

He took a deep breath, carrying this "heavy hope," and walked back along the riverbank he had come from.

After walking a few dozen meters forward and turning a bend in the river covered with reeds, Yang Guangming's heart suddenly tightened, and he instinctively stopped in his tracks.

Not far ahead, two middle-aged men wearing gray short jackets, with bulging waists and fierce faces, were walking straight toward him.

The two men had sharp eyes, staring intently at the obviously heavy fish basket in his hand, their eyes revealing an undisguised greed and ferocity.

What made Yang Guangming's pupils shrink even more was the obviously abnormally hard bulge under their clothes at their waists. Based on his experience, he judged that there was a 99% chance that they were hiding handguns!

Moreover, judging from their gait and eyes, they were definitely not benevolent people; they seemed more like bandits and highwaymen accustomed to plundering and extorting.

This is no friendly visitor! Trouble has arrived!
Yang Guangming stopped in his tracks, his fingers tightening slightly as he held the fish basket, but his face remained calm.

The two men who approached were one tall and one short. The taller man had a hideous scar on his face, running from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth.

He walked up to Yang Guangming first, a cat-and-mouse smile on his face, his teeth, stained yellow from smoking, were repulsive.

The tall man said arrogantly, "Kid, you're in luck. There are fish in there, aren't there? Perfect for us to have a treat!" His voice was hoarse and unpleasant, with a strong air of thuggery.

The shorter man stood menacingly to the side and behind, arms crossed, his eyes scanning Yang Guangming up and down like a venomous snake, a cold smile playing on his lips, silently blocking his path.

Yang Guangming didn't speak, but calmly watched them, his eyes filled with an icy chill. He was waiting, and he was also calculating.

"Damn it, are you deaf? I'm talking to you!" The tall man spat impatiently when he saw that the man didn't answer. He took a step forward and was almost right in front of the sunlight. A stench mixed with the smell of sweat and tobacco hit him.

"Open it! Let the men see the goods!" he commanded rudely, his attitude extremely arrogant.

Yang Guangming's gaze swept quickly across their bulging waists, confirming that they were indeed carrying pistols.

He did as instructed, slowly and seemingly somewhat reluctantly putting down the heavy fish basket in his hands, and then lifting the lid.

Suddenly, a full basket of still lively, shimmering fish and shrimp was revealed to the two of them.

The fish struggled in the narrow space, their tails slapping against the basket walls with a "crackling" sound, while river shrimp bounced around inside.

The two middle-aged men's eyes widened instantly, their greed transforming into ecstatic joy. They clearly hadn't expected this teenager to have such a "lucrative" harvest; it was practically a windfall!
"Hahaha!" The tall, scarred man threw his head back and burst into a triumphant laugh, saying to his companion, "Third brother, we really struck gold today! We were just trying to take a shortcut, but we ended up getting a basket of live fish for free! We've got some snacks to go with our drinks tonight! Damn, it's been ages since we've had any meat!"

The short man grinned, revealing his uneven, yellow teeth, and rubbed his hands together excitedly, agreeing, "That's right, brother! This is enough for us brothers to have a few good meals! We can even exchange it for some money for drinks! This kid is a real money-grubber!"

After laughing, the tall man lowered his head, a cruel, condescending smile on his face, and rudely waved his hand at the bright sunlight, as if shooing away flies.
"Kid, you're smart to know what's good for you! Put down the fish basket and get lost! Don't get in the way of our business! If you dawdle any longer, I'll cut a hole in you!"

As he spoke, his hand unconsciously went to his waist.

They clearly regarded the basket of fish and shrimp as their rightful spoils, completely disregarding the silent, thin boy in front of them, and perhaps even already planning where to go and have some fun after they had eaten everything.

Yang Guangming sneered inwardly, his killing intent already made up.

Having confirmed the other party's intentions and the danger they posed, he no longer hesitated.

In these times of war, such people may have the blood of innocents on their hands. If we let them go, who knows how many more honest people like his father will suffer.

The distance was so close, exactly within the three-meter range he controlled with his mind, this was the perfect opportunity to counterattack.

With a slight thought, two thin pieces of ice in the refrigerator vanished instantly.

The next moment, the two thin ice crystals appeared precisely in the core brainstem areas of the two middle-aged men.

Their laughter and conversation abruptly stopped.

The tall, scarred man's ecstatic joy froze instantly, his eyes becoming empty and lifeless, as if his soul had been ripped away. The short man's smile also froze; his body swayed uncontrollably, his mouth agape, but no sound came out.

There were no screams, no struggles, not even a single extra twitch. The two of them collapsed to the ground like two puddles of mud, or rather, two puppets whose strings had suddenly been cut, with two muffled "plop" sounds.

After they collapsed, their breathing quickly became weak and erratic, then stopped completely. Their pupils dilated, losing all sign of life.

Yang Guangming stood still, his face as calm as a deep pool, watching the two corpses on the ground rapidly losing their temperature.

For him, a time traveler who had experienced over two hundred years of trials and tribulations and witnessed countless life-and-death situations, the scene before him did not stir any waves.

When necessary, calmly and swiftly eliminating anything that poses a direct threat to oneself and one's family is a deeply ingrained instinct and survival principle.

This is not about seeking revenge, but about the necessity of survival.

If he were more than three meters away, he might need to use the pistol stored in the space, which would bring noise and subsequent risks.

But within this absolute distance, this silent and unassuming method is more concealed, faster, and leaves almost no trace, posing no risk whatsoever.

He quickly looked around.

He had already chosen a secluded spot, and just now he had turned a corner in the river where reeds grew thickly, obscuring his view, and there was no one in the distance.

The only sounds were the constant rustling of the wind through the reeds and the faint gurgling of the river.

He crouched down and began searching the two corpses with swift and calm movements.

Soon, Yang Guangming pulled out two well-maintained pistols from their waists. They were common Mauser C96 pistols, also known as "box cannons" or "twenty-shot pistols." There were also several spare magazines, totaling dozens of bright yellow bullets.

In addition to weapons, he also found more than thirty gold yuan notes on the two men.

Yang Guangming quickly gathered up the pistol, magazine, bullets, and all the coins. He couldn't keep them in his hand; he had to put them into his storage space as soon as possible.

But at this moment, his refrigerator was crammed with all sorts of supplies, and there was no available space to accommodate these new items. He had to clear some space immediately.

He focused his mind again, his consciousness sinking into the space. Inside, items were categorized and neatly arranged, like a well-organized warehouse. He quickly scanned it, his mind racing, and instantly selected the items he needed to discard.

He first selected clothes, shoes, hats, and miscellaneous daily necessities that he didn't need for the time being.

The next second, the selected items disappeared from the space and appeared deep in the dense, tall reeds beside him, haphazardly discarded in the mud and weeds.

These things are of little value to him, so it's not a pity to discard them, which will free up much-needed space.

A small area immediately cleared out in the space, more than enough to hold the spoils of this battle.

Yang Guangming immediately put the two Mauser pistols, magazines, bullets, and all the money he had just found into the space he had cleared.

With the free space available, he could move the items he planned to collect daily, such as silver coins, gold, and food, to these empty spaces.

In this way, the transferred silver coins will not disappear when refreshed next time, and the original empty positions will be refreshed again, which can achieve a certain degree of accumulation and prepare for subsequent plans.

Having dealt with everything, he stood up and once again cautiously surveyed his surroundings. The wind continued to blow, the reeds swayed, and the river murmured; nothing seemed amiss, as if the harrowing scene from moments before had never occurred.

He didn't linger, picked up the still heavy fish basket, and quickened his pace, leaving the riverbank—a place of trouble—along the way he had come. (End of Chapter)