The morning drills had become a ritual.
"Left leg up! Higher! Reach for the sky! Now down!"
Zhao Hu's voice cracked like a whip across the frozen clearing. Dahu and Er-Leng stood in a line, their breaths pluming in the air as they performed the stretching routine Lin Chen had introduced. They looked ridiculous—grown men flailing their arms and legs—but the results were undeniable. Their movements were looser, and the usual winter stiffness in their joints had faded.
Lin Chen stood apart, wearing his wide-brimmed bamboo hat. In his hands, he held a length of rough hemp rope. He was practicing the **[Bowline Knot]**. His fingers moved with a dexterity that surprised even him, the knowledge from the Cowboy Skill Pack flowing directly into his muscle memory.
*Loop the rabbit, rabbit comes out of the hole, goes around the tree, and back down...*
He pulled the knot tight. It formed a perfect, secure loop that would not tighten under strain, preserving the rope's strength.
"Good," he muttered to himself.
He walked over to Old Grey, who was watching the humans with a bored expression, chewing on a piece of dry bark. Lin Chen patted the donkey's neck.
"Saddle up, Old Grey," Lin Chen said. "We patrol today."
"Patrol?" Dahu asked, pausing mid-stretch. "Boss, we have fences. The wolves haven't been near since the thorns grew."
"A rancher doesn't wait for the wolf to knock on the door," Lin Chen said, adjusting the blanket and the makeshift girth strap. "We ride the perimeter. We check for tracks. We check for breaks. We show the mountain that we are watching."
He swung onto the donkey's back. It was smoother now. He didn't flop over like a sack of grain. He sat deep, his heels down, his back straight.
"Dahu, you take the west ridge. Er-Leng, the south stream. Zhao Hu, you're with me. We check the northern pass. If you see anything—strange tracks, smoke, broken branches—you signal. Don't be a hero. Just signal."
"Yes, Boss!" the two men chorused. The term 'Boss' had replaced 'Master' naturally. It felt less feudal, more like a team.
***
The Northern Pass was a desolate stretch of the mountain where the pine trees grew thick and the shadows were long. The snow here was untouched, a pristine sheet of white.
Lin Chen guided Old Grey carefully over the icy stones. The donkey was sure-footed, picking his way delicately. Beside them, Zhao Hu walked, his spear resting on his shoulder.
"You ride better," Zhao Hu noted gruffly. "Yesterday you bounced like a sack of potatoes. Today, you move with him."
"I found the rhythm," Lin Chen said. It was the truth. The system had synced his body with the animal's gait. He could feel the donkey's muscles shifting beneath him, anticipating the next step.
They crested a small hill overlooking the main trade road that wound through the valley below. It was the only road that connected the village to the wider world.
Lin Chen raised his hand to shield his eyes under the brim of his hat. He squinted.
Smoke.
But not the cozy smoke of a hearth. It was a thin, black plume, rising from a bend in the road.
"Smoke," Lin Chen pointed.
Zhao Hu stiffened. "That's near the turn-off to the village. Could be a campfire. Could be trouble."
"Let's go."
They didn't gallop—the terrain was too dangerous—but they moved with purpose. Lin Chen leaned forward, encouraging Old Grey into a brisk trot.
As they rounded the bend, the scene became clear.
A single, heavy cart had slid off the road, tipping precariously into a ditch. The two oxen pulling it were lowing in distress, their yokes twisted. A man in a thick fur coat was jumping up and down, shouting at two other men who were trying to push the cart back onto the road.
But it was the second group that caught Lin Chen's eye.
Three men on horseback were circling the stranded cart. They weren't helping. They were laughing.
"Bandits?" Lin Chen asked, his hand drifting to the knife at his belt.
"No," Zhao Hu narrowed his eyes. "Their clothes are too good for bandits. Look at the horses. They're from the town. Likely thugs hired to 'protect' the road. Or to harass travelers who don't pay tolls."
Lin Chen saw red. This was the reality of the world for common people. No police, no roadside assistance. Just predators and prey.
"We help," Lin Chen stated.
"We are two against three," Zhao Hu reminded him. "And one of us is a donkey."
"We have surprise," Lin Chen said. "And we have the high ground. Ride down with me. Look big. Look official. I'll do the talking."
He kicked Old Grey. "Hyah!"
The donkey burst over the ridge, galloping down the slope. It wasn't a majestic sight—a man in a bamboo hat on a galloping donkey—but the speed and the noise were startling.
The three horsemen turned, hands flying to their weapons.
Lin Chen didn't slow down. He reined in Old Grey about twenty feet away, sitting tall, his face shadowed by the hat. He projected the aura of the system, the confidence of a man who commanded a territory.
"What is the meaning of this?" Lin Chen shouted, his voice booming with an authority he didn't know he possessed. "Why is the road blocked?"
The lead horseman, a scarred brute with a moustache, sneered. "Who are you? Get lost, peasant. This is official business."
"Official business?" Lin Chen scoffed. He pointed to the cart. "That is a merchant. You are harassing him. Move aside."
The horseman laughed. "Or what? You'll bite us with your donkey?"
Zhao Hu stepped out from behind Lin Chen, hefting his spear. He didn't say a word. He just slammed the butt of the spear into the frozen ground. *Thud.*
The horsemen's laughter died. They recognized a killer when they saw one.
"This is the territory of the Lin Ranch," Lin Chen lied smoothly. He hadn't named it officially yet, but it sounded good. "I am Lin Chen. This man beside me is my foreman, Zhao Hu. We are patrolling for bandits. You are obstructing the road. If you do not leave, I will assume you are the bandits we are hunting."
The lead horseman hesitated. He looked at Lin Chen's hat, the strange posture, the confident gaze. He looked at Zhao Hu's scar.
"Lin? The Magistrate's son-in-law?" the horseman asked.
"The same," Lin Chen said coldly. "And if you think my father-in-law will be pleased to hear you are robbing merchants on his road, you are mistaken. Now go."
The threat of the Magistrate was the key. The horsemen exchanged glances. It wasn't worth the hassle.
"Lucky day for you, merchant," the leader spat. He turned his horse. "Let's go."
They galloped off, kicking up snow.
Lin Chen exhaled silently. His heart was hammering, but he kept his face stone cold until they were out of sight.
***
The merchant, a middle-aged man with a panicked face, rushed over. He was shivering, whether from cold or fear.
"Thank you, Young Master! Thank you!" the merchant bowed deeply. "I am Chen the Peddler. I was bringing goods from the Prefecture. They... they demanded double the toll. When I refused, they scared my oxen into the ditch."
"Check the animals first," Lin Chen said, dismounting. He walked over to the oxen. They were stressed but unhurt. The cart, however, was deeply stuck. The wheel was snapped.
"Can you fix it?" Lin Chen asked Zhao Hu.
"Not here. Need a new wheel," Zhao Hu assessed. "And we need to pull it out."
"We can't leave it here," Lin Chen said. "It will freeze, or the wolves will come. We pull it to the ranch."
"To the ranch?" Chen the Peddler looked confused. "But... that is up the mountain. My route is to the village."
"The village path is steeper and iced over," Lin Chen reasoned. "My ranch has a sled. We can transfer the goods. You can stay the night, warm up, and fix the wheel tomorrow. I charge a fair price for lodging and food. Better than freezing here."
The merchant looked at Lin Chen, then at the looming mountain. "You... you would take me in?"
"I am a rancher," Lin Chen said simply. "We help those who travel. It's the code."
***
It took an hour to harness the oxen and Old Grey together to pull the cart off the ditch. Then, it took another two hours to slowly drag the broken wagon up the path to the clearing.
Dahu and Er-Leng rushed out when they saw the procession.
"Boss! What happened? Loot?" Dahu asked excitedly.
"Guests," Lin Chen corrected, sliding off the donkey, his legs stiff. "Help unload the goods into the shed. Chen, come inside. You look like you need tea."
Inside the hut, the warmth was palpable. Lin Mu poured hot tea. Chen the Peddler wrapped his hands around the cup, his color returning.
"You saved me," Chen said, looking around the simple but sturdy hut. "Young Master, I have heard the rumors. They said you were... struggling. But this..."
"This is a work in progress," Lin Chen smiled. "What cargo were you carrying, Chen? If you don't mind me asking."
Chen hesitated, then waved his hand. "It doesn't matter now. You saved my life. I was bringing salt. Bags of coarse salt. And some iron tools. Shovels, hoes. Things the village ordered."
Lin Chen's ears perked up. **Salt.**
Salt was expensive. It was controlled by the government and the big merchants. It was vital for preserving meat and for the health of the animals.
"The village ordered it?" Lin Chen asked.
"Yes," Chen sighed. "But with the road blocked and the wheel broken... I don't know if I can deliver it on time. And if I don't deliver, I don't get paid. I might have to sell it at a loss just to fix my cart."
Lin Chen looked at Zhao Hu. A silent communication passed between them.
"How much salt?" Lin Chen asked.
"Ten bags. Fifty catties each."
"I'll buy it," Lin Chen said. "All of it."
Chen blinked. "All of it? Young Master, salt is dear. And you need tools? I have those too."
"I need salt for my animals," Lin Chen said. "And I need tools for my men. I will pay you the market price you would have gotten in the village. Plus, I will give you a warm bed in the new bunkhouse, a hot dinner, and my men will help you fix your wheel tomorrow. You save the delivery fees, the risk, and the cold. Deal?"
Chen calculated quickly. It was a good deal. He avoided the haggling of the village elders and the risk of the road.
"Deal!" Chen said firmly.
***
That evening, the atmosphere in the clearing was festive.
The bunkhouse was used for the first time. Dahu and Er-Leng moved their few belongings in, marveling at the warmth of the iron stove and the novelty of sleeping on the upper bunk. Chen the Peddler was given the lower bunk, and he slept soundly for the first time in days.
In the main hut, Lin Chen sat by the fire, counting out copper coins and silver fragments. The transaction had depleted his cash reserves, but he had secured vital resources.
Ten bags of salt. This meant he could cure meat properly now. He could preserve the beef they would eventually produce. He could also supplement the animals' diet, increasing their health and weight gain.
**[System Alert: Resource Acquisition.]**
**[Item: Coarse Salt (500 catties).]**
**[Utility: Essential for ranch maintenance, meat preservation, and animal health.]**
**[Mission Update: Establish Trade Route. (Complete - Neutral Merchant Relation).]**
Lin Chen looked at the tools in the corner—shovels, hoes, and a new, sharp handsaw. They were implements of creation.
He stood up and walked to the door. He looked out at the night sky.
The clearing was no longer just a camp. It was a hub. It had defended a traveler. It had hosted a guest. It had traded.
The "Cowboy" spirit wasn't just about riding; it was about the code. Help those in need, protect your own, and trade fairly.
Lin Chen looked at the feed troughs. He remembered the knot he had practiced earlier. The **Bowline**.
He took a piece of rope and tied a loop around a heavy stone near the door. He pulled. It held fast. He flipped the rope, and the knot slipped apart instantly.
"Simple," he whispered. "Strong. Reliable."
That was his philosophy now.
He heard the sound of snoring from the bunkhouse, the chewing of the cows in the shed, and the wind in the pines.
The ranch had survived the winter. Now, it was beginning to thrive.
"Brother?" Lin Mu's sleepy voice came from inside. "Are you coming to bed?"
"In a minute," Lin Chen said. He looked up at the stars, clearer and brighter than any city lights.
"I'm just watching the herd."
He went inside, closed the door, and locked it with a simple, sturdy wooden latch.