At the beginning, he took his seven younger siblings to join Yi Zhonghai.

December, 1952.

Hubei Province.

A small mountain village at the foot of Shennongjia Mountain.

Snowflakes kept falling from the sky.

The snow-covered mountains of Shennongjia resemble thousands of white dragons, and the Yugua Forest is like a silver-clad landscape.

A boy carrying a basket walks along a snow-covered village road.

His eyes were bloodshot.

His eyes were filled with endless sadness and confusion.

He tucked his hands into his sleeves and hunched his neck, trying to minimize the impact of the wind and snow.

Not long after.

He arrived at the door of a house.

He reached out and knocked on the door.

"Uncle Li, are you home?"

The boy craned his neck and shouted.

"Dingya, you're home. Come in."

A loud voice came from inside the house.

The boy reached out and pushed open the door, then walked into the room.

Four or five people were sitting around a brazier inside the room.

The boy greeted them one by one.

"Dingya, what's up? Come on, sit down and have a potato while you warm yourself by the fire."

An old farmer-looking man at the head of the table glanced at him and took a potato from the wire mesh above the brazier and gave it to him.

"No, Uncle Li, I'm going back to my hometown. I just wanted to let you know."

The boy shook his head and explained his purpose.

"You're going back already? I'll get the mule cart out and give you a ride."

Uncle Li stood up and said.

"No need, Uncle Li, it's snowing here, don't bother, I can walk back myself."

The boy waved his hands repeatedly.

"Don't be so polite, kid. I'm just going to the countryside."

Uncle Li said this as he put on his clothes.

"Dingya, how are you all making a living now? Are you going to continue your studies, or take over your mother's job?"

Uncle Li's wife asked in a concerned tone.

"It's not decided yet. My mother told me on her deathbed that she had found information about my uncle's son, and I'm just about to verify it."

The boy said with a hint of helplessness.

"Really? That's great! If it's true, your kids might have someone to rely on."

Uncle Li was pleasantly surprised to hear this.

"Dingya, where is your uncle's son? Did your mother explain it clearly?"

Uncle Li's wife handed him a potato and asked another question.

"I'm not sure if it's true or not, and even if it is, it's questionable whether they'd even bother with us."

"I don't care about myself, I can live, but I have several young children at home, I'll see if I can find a way to help them."

The boy sighed helplessly.

"That's true, these days are tough."

The woman nodded.

By this time, Uncle Li had already changed his clothes.

He turned around and said:

"Dingya, you're the eldest brother. Now that your parents have passed away one after another, you're not a child anymore. You have to hold on. Your younger siblings are counting on you to support the family."

"Who could have imagined that natural disasters, man-made calamities, war, and famine could not defeat your parents, but now that there is peace, the people are the masters of their own destiny, and good days are just around the corner, they have all fallen."

"It's fate, we have to believe it, but we can't accept it."

"In 38, the Huayuankou dike was breached, and in 41, there was a great famine. Your parents refused to accept their fate and managed to escape death twice with you. In the end, they were able to travel thousands of miles from Henan Province, trekking through mountains and rivers to Shennongjia."

"I still remember the year your parents brought you to the village. They settled down at the foot of this mountain and relied on their carpentry skills, hunting, and land reclamation to grow from a family of three to a family of ten. That's amazing."

Old Li said with a hint of reminiscence in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Uncle Li, we're the men who will take charge of the family now. No matter what, we'll raise our younger siblings. Besides, the government has treated us well; they've given us a pension."

"We're just trying to find more ways out."

The boy nodded solemnly.

"Alright, I've watched you grow up since you were little. Even if this search for relatives doesn't come to fruition, don't worry. At worst, you can come back to the village. We can live off the land and make a living."

Uncle Li patted him on the shoulder and said earnestly.

The boy nodded.

"Take a few more potatoes for you to eat on the way."

Old Li's wife picked up a few potatoes, wrapped them in a cloth, and handed them to them.

Unable to refuse, the boy thanked them before turning and leaving.

A short while later.

Uncle Li led the mule cart and beckoned him to get on.

The two figures disappeared into the snowstorm.

Old Li's wife sighed with a complicated expression and turned to go back into the house.

The boy sat in the stable carriage, his thoughts wandering.

In his previous life, he was a low-level civil servant who had given up his job.

After working for twenty or thirty years, I'm still only a deputy section chief.

Anyone would just give up.

One day, after get off work...

As usual, he wore a yellow robe and delivered fodder to thousands of cattle and horses to supplement his family's income.

But one day, a kind heart was born.

He ran off to do a good deed.

Then the person who was rescued survived by stepping on his shoulders.

He was stepped on while trying to save someone and sank into the water.

When I opened my eyes again...

Then came the 1950s.

He became the pillar of support for a family with no parents and seven younger siblings.

The original owner shared the same name as him in his previous life: Yi Zhongding. He was born in 1937 and is fifteen years old this year.

My father, Yi Shixin, joined the militia of our army in Shennongjia in 1948.

Last year, while guiding troops into Shennongjia to suppress bandits, he was ambushed and killed by gunfire.

My mother caught a cold a few days ago, fell seriously ill, and passed away.

The original owner, overwhelmed with grief, followed him in death.

He took his place.

In the half month since he transmigrated, he has called upon the legendary cheat code countless times.

But nothing was gained.

A person who grew up in a modern society suddenly arrives in this era of scarcity.

He panicked.

He was even more panicked when he saw seven younger siblings waiting to be fed behind him.

Even though he has decades more of experience in social development.

But they are almost useless in this era.

The underlying logic is the same in every era.

What he could rely on was the carpentry skills that the original owner had learned from his father since childhood.

He also studied Taoist medicine for several years under an old Taoist priest in white robes from Laojun Mountain.

Perhaps after graduating from junior high school, he could become a barefoot doctor to support his younger siblings.

However, he has not yet mastered the "form-based treatment" of Daoist medicine.

Because there are no more "masters".

The last disciple of the old Taoist priest was killed in the War of Resistance against Japan in 1944.

By this time, all of his dozens of disciples had perished in the war against Japan.

So he left all his inherited books to the original owner and then came out of seclusion.

Summer of 1945.

After his death, his body was hung on the city gate by the Japanese.

The body was stolen back by the original owner's father at great risk to be buried.

The so-called treatment based on physical form in Daoist medicine is not much different from that in traditional Chinese medicine.

They all use traditional Chinese medicine methods such as herbal decoctions, prescriptions (various pills, powders, and ointments), and acupuncture to treat and save lives.

Not to mention the essential aspects of health preservation and the somewhat mystical "divine healing".

The former simply knows a few Taoist boxing techniques.

He still hasn't grasped the essence of what's called internal strength.

The original owner has not dared to mention the "divine intervention" part at all in the past two years.

My father was killed by a stray bullet while leading our army in suppressing bandits.

Therefore, the military district applied for the title of "martyr" for him.

They also gave his mother a job in the township propaganda department and arranged for him and his siblings to attend school in the township.

He often went to his mother's workplace to play, and from the promotional materials he learned that divine intervention was a form of feudal superstition.

So he didn't dare to mention it.