Morning.
Outside, the sound of firecrackers was deafening, as Lin Zheyu punched the wooden stake in the courtyard, producing a thudding sound.
After practicing fist techniques for several hours, his understanding of the fist momentum improved slightly.
Walking on the street.
Everywhere, people were worshipping the gods, and the crackling of firecrackers filled the air.
The gods of Great Wei were as numerous as the hairs on a cow. On this small year's day, people were either worshipping the gods or preparing to worship them.
Each household burned paper money, offering incense with sincerity, praying for the new year to be better, hoping for the war to cease.
Most adults didn't have smiles on their faces, full of worry and distress.
Business was bad, bandits rampaged outside the city, and crops couldn't grow, all stolen by bandits.
Even Lin Zheyu found it difficult, as his income kept shrinking.
