Chapter 6 | The Old Hunter's Gun

The wind picked up at night.

The old locust tree in the courtyard rustled, its branches and leaves casting mottled shadows in the moonlight. Chen Ye had just closed the bolt of the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle when footsteps came from outside.

Don't be anxious, don't be chaotic.

It was his father.

Fifty-year-old Chen Jianguo stood at the door, holding an old kerosene lamp. The light wasn't bright, but it was steady. It was a habit left over from his youth—not to alarm people, and not to let people see him clearly.

"You took the gun apart pretty clean," his father said.

Chen Ye looked up, stunned.

His father rarely entered his room, and even less so spoke at night.

"You know about this too," Chen Ye replied.

Chen Jianguo didn't respond, just put the lamp on the table and sat down.

"You've been going into the mountains more often these days."

It wasn't a question, but a statement.

Chen Ye was silent.

"The people in the black market have also started moving," his father continued, "They won't just be targeting you."

This sentence made Chen Ye's heart tremble.

He had never mentioned the black market to his father.

"Dad, you... knew a long time ago?"

Chen Jianguo smiled, very faintly: "I've seen too much of this in my life."

He reached into his arms, took out a cloth bag, and slowly spread it open.

Inside was an old metal badge, and a piece of paper that had long since yellowed.

Chen Ye recognized it at a glance.

It was an early militia marker.

"In the sixties, I wasn't a hunter," Chen Jianguo's voice was very low, "I was a person who entered the mountains with a gun."

The flame of the kerosene lamp flickered.

"At that time, there weren't only wild beasts in the mountains."

"There were also people."

Chen Ye's heart tightened.

His father didn't go into detail about the battles, but only spoke of one thing.

"Once, we surrounded a group of people in the deep mountains. They weren't bandits, they were smugglers. Once the gunshots rang out, there was no turning back."

He paused.

"Three people died that day."

It wasn't that he killed them, nor was it that he didn't kill them.

But that was the first time he understood that a gun wasn't a tool, it was a boundary.

"Later, I retired, but I didn't hand over the gun."

"It wasn't that I didn't want to, it was that no one dared to take it."

Chen Jianguo looked at the Type 56: "This gun isn't meant to make money, it's meant to save your life."

Chen Ye finally understood why his father had never asked him what he was doing in the mountains.

Because he knew that asking meant tacit approval.

The wind outside was picking up.

Chen Jianguo suddenly asked: "Recently, do you feel that the mountains are not quite right?"

Chen Ye's heart skipped a beat.

"Yes."

"Then that's right," his father nodded, "Once the mountains start 'watching you', you're no longer just passing through."

This sentence was too heavy.

But also too accurate.

Chen Jianguo stood up and took down the old hunting rifle from the corner.

The barrel was already dark, but it was extremely well-maintained.

"I originally planned to take this gun into my coffin," he said, "But now, I think you should know how to use it."

It wasn't handing over the gun.

It was acceptance.

At this moment, the system unexpectedly popped up a message:

【Detected high-intensity survival will】

【Source: Chen Jianguo】

【Assessment: Non-adaptive contract object】

【Note: Stable anchor point】

Chen Ye's breath hitched.

Anchor point.

The system used this word for the first time.

"Dad," Chen Ye said in a low voice, "If one day, I have to stand in front?"

Chen Jianguo looked at him for a long time.

"Then don't let your sister stand behind you," he said, "That's the fate of being a brother."

One sentence, heavier than all the system prompts.

Before his father left, he left the old badge on the table.

"Remember," he said, "A gun can save your life, but it can also destroy you. Only when you no longer want to use it, can you be considered truly alive."

The door closed.

The room was only left with the slight crackling sound of the kerosene lamp.

Chen Ye sat for a long time.

The system didn't speak again.

The space was also unusually quiet, as if respecting this past.

He finally understood one thing—

The reason this home could withstand the system's approach,

was not because of luck,

but because someone had already, once, blocked the world's malice for them.