Wizard: I have ten trillion nanomachines

Six hours later, it was already dawn.

The cold wind blew through the pine forest, stirring up the unmelted snow on the ground, which rustled against the soldiers' leather-lined armor.

Naken was the first to stand up, kicking the dozing young soldier beside him awake. His rough, hoarse voice echoed in the morning mist: "Get up, all of you! Pack your things, it's time to go back!"

The rescued serfs moved a little slower. Some were still caressing the crumbs of black bread they had been given the night before, while others tightened their tattered cotton-padded clothes. Compared to the days of freezing and starving in the bandit's den, being able to embark on their journey home now, even in the biting cold, warmed their hearts.

Luo Kunlun followed the soldiers in packing their luggage, but his eyes secretly swept over Lauke not far away.

Lauker was adjusting his sword with his back to the crowd. The morning light outlined his straight back, and his breathing rhythm was different from that of ordinary people.

His chest rose and fell slowly as he inhaled, but his exhalation was almost silent, as if he was suppressing something. Luo Kunlun immediately mentally ordered, "Zero, scan Lauker's breathing rate and establish a data model."

"Beep—Scanning in progress, respiratory rate 0.8 breaths/second, chest rise and fall amplitude 30% lower than normal, an instinctive reaction developed through years of training."

Seeing this, Luo Kunlun sighed inwardly.

The breathing technique is called a breathing technique, so it must be related to breathing. Unfortunately, he didn't gain anything after staring at Locke all night.

As for getting close to the Hand Knight and scanning him, that was even more impossible.

Although Luo Kunlun had been appreciated for his previous performance, in the eyes of this knight, he was just a minor figure with some potential.

If the other party feels that you've become arrogant and disrespectful, they might just draw their sword and kill you.

After the team set off, they followed a narrow path made of snow in the mountains.

After traveling for most of the day, the group finally arrived at the village closest to the bandits' hideout at dusk. Upon seeing Hande's banner, the village militia immediately sounded their horns.

The team will rest here for the night.

The farmers gradually gathered together and began to talk in hushed tones, their initial relief slowly turning into worry.

"Will the farm tools in my mud-brick house be stolen? How will we plant crops in the spring?"

"My youngest son is only five years old. I wonder how he is doing while I'm away..."

For farmers, houses, farm tools, and family members are the foundation of their entire livelihood; without these, survival is difficult to guarantee.

They had been kidnapped for over a month, and they wondered what had become of their home and family.

Will migrant workers or lone thugs take the opportunity to steal? Are there any losses of furniture or farm tools? Is the house damaged?

These various factors were brought up for discussion soon after the danger was over.

However, compared to those who tragically died, at least they are still alive.

Luo Kunlun did not join the conversation. He found a well by the village, drew a bucket of water, and washed himself quickly.

Looking at the reflection in the water—black hair, black eyes, a thin face, and a hint of youthful innocence still lingering at the corners of the mouth—"Not bad, it's the look I was familiar with from my previous two lives, and the race is similar."

Luo Kunlun muttered to himself.

The group finally arrived at Hande's manor the following afternoon. The manor was surrounded by a wooden fence, inside which were scattered the serfs' mud-brick houses and blacksmith's shop.

At the very center was Hande's mansion, which was much more magnificent than the surrounding houses. However, he did not often stay at the manor, and the management of the manor was left to the local estate manager.

Hande did not linger. He gave instructions to the new head of the estate, such as relieving Luo Kunlun of his serf status and explaining the resettlement of the rescued farmers.

Afterwards, he led Lauk and the others on horseback to the Roth family's mansion to report.

The person in charge was a slightly overweight middle-aged man, dressed in a clean gray cloth shirt with a leather belt around his waist, and always had a kind smile on his face.

This is the new head of the manor, known as Old Clare.

As for the original headman, he had long since been hanged. Because of the loss of his precious warhorse, all his property was confiscated as compensation for the losses caused by his dereliction of duty.

"Don't panic! Those with homes, go home first. Those without, come with me and we'll find somewhere to stay!" Old Kela clapped his hands, his voice booming. "Lord Hand has decreed that your labor service for this month is completely waived, and you'll even receive half a sack of grain!"

The farmers cheered and ran towards their homes.

At the same time, old Kra strode over to Lo Kunlun and patted him warmly on the shoulder: "Loren, come with me, don't go crowding into the shantytown."

Luo Kunlun was somewhat surprised, but he still followed Old Clara. Old Clara's house was a spacious mud-brick house with two wooden beds and a stove with a chimney, much better than the living quarters of ordinary villagers.

Shortly after entering the room, Old Clara rummaged through the closet and pulled out two neatly folded linen clothes and a pair of newly sewn cloth shoes, handing them to Luo Kunlun: "Here's a small gift for you. Take it. You should dress nicely when you go to town."

"Speaking of which, I've known your father since we were little. He passed away not two years before your accident. It's my fault for not taking good care of you..."

Luo Kunlun appeared excited, but inwardly he remained completely calm.

The original owner's father did know Old Krat, but that was all.

One was a widowed bachelor serf, and the other was a free man, the kind with some money. Their relationship was at most that of exchanging greetings when they bumped into each other on the street.

The reason for saying all this is obviously to try and build a relationship.

Old Kra is forty-seven years old this year, which is considered a long life in this era. The shrewd man would not neglect Luo Kunlun, so he let him stay at his home.

In addition to giving Luo Kunlun two clean sets of linen clothes and shoes, they also slaughtered a chicken during dinner that evening.

In his view, "Loren" would probably become a servant to some master in the future, and his descendants might be the next Master Hand.

In the future, you or your descendants might benefit from it.

Moreover, the other party would only ever be a common soldier, and for most of the people of Ashenvale, he was someone they couldn't afford to offend.

As for the two sets of clothes and the chicken, they were not valuable assets to a village head, and were not worth much money. Why not use them to build a good relationship with a promising young man?

And so, Lo Kunlun spent the most comfortable night of his life since coming into this world at Old Clara's house.

Afterwards, Luo Kunlun took a horse-drawn cart from a farmhouse bound for Gray Rock Town to report to the military camp.