In a farmhouse in a small mountain village, two groups of people were facing each other. Both sides were prepared for a fight, with roughly equal numbers. The atmosphere was tense... an ominous silence filled with the smell of gunpowder.,After a while, Zi collected the things in his hand and slightly raised his head. His eyes, devoid of sorrow or joy, swept over the black people in the courtyard. They all held their breath. As professional assassins, they sensed danger in an instant and instinctively took defensive postures. Suddenly, a light chuckle broke the tense atmosphere.,After sending away a group of troublesome people, Zhou Yi put his belongings into a black backpack and took out the hot dishes from the kitchen. He sat in the yard and ate them up. Over the years, he had developed the habit of cooking for himself. Not long after, he finished his meal.。