In this world, being a blacksmith is considered one of the lowest professions, because for some special reason, the top weapons in this world are not forged by blacksmiths.

However, as the only blacksmith in this village, William Carter's family should not have been so poor, but most of that meager income was...

As soon as he entered the house, William Carter could already smell the aroma of food. That was not breakfast made for him by Henry Carter, but rather what he had made for Henry Carter.

Since the age of four, when William Carter was still too short to reach the stove, cooking had already become his daily task. Even if he had to stand on a stool to reach the stove.

It wasn't because Henry Carter demanded it, but because if he didn't, William Carter would almost never have enough to eat.

Coming to the stove, he skillfully stepped onto the wooden stool and lifted the lid of the large iron pot. The fragrant smell of rice wafted out, and the porridge inside had long since been cooked to a soft mush.

Every day before going up the mountain, William Carter would put rice in the pot and prepare the firewood. By the time he returned, the porridge would be ready.

Picking up the two bowls by the stove, each with more than ten chips and cracks, William Carter carefully filled two bowls of porridge and placed them on the table behind him. The grains of rice in the porridge could almost be counted at a glance. For William Carter, who was still growing, this amount of nutrition was clearly not enough, which was also why his body was so thin.

“Dad, it’s time to eat,” William Carter called out.

After a while, the curtain in the inner room was lifted, and a tall figure staggered out.

It was a middle-aged man, who looked to be nearly fifty, but his build was very tall and burly. However, his appearance left much to be desired.

He wore a tattered robe, not even patched, exposing the bronze skin beneath. His once decent features were covered with a waxy yellow hue, his eyes half-closed in a sleepy daze, his hair a tangled mess like a bird’s nest, and his face covered in a beard that hadn’t been trimmed in who knows how long. His gaze was dull and yellowish, and even though a night had passed, the strong smell of alcohol on him still made William Carter frown.

This was Henry Carter, William Carter’s father in this world.

From childhood, William Carter had never known what fatherly love was. Henry Carter had always ignored him. At first, he would still cook a little food for him, but as time went on and William Carter started cooking on his own, Henry Carter cared even less. The family was so poor that they didn’t even have decent tables or chairs, and even eating was a problem. The main reason was that Henry Carter spent almost all of his meager blacksmith earnings on alcohol.

Children the same age as William Carter usually had fathers around thirty, and those who married early were not even thirty yet. But Henry Carter looked much older than them, more like William Carter’s grandfather.

As for Henry Carter’s attitude, William Carter never resented him. In his previous life, he was an orphan. In this life, even though Henry Carter wasn’t good to him, at least he had a relative. For William Carter, that was enough. At least here, he had someone to call “dad.”

Henry Carter grabbed the bowl on the table, not caring about the heat, and gulped down the porridge. Only then did his sallow face look a bit more lively.

“Dad, drink slowly, there’s more,” William Carter said, taking the bowl from his father’s hand and filling it again. He also picked up his own bowl and started drinking.

Back in The Carter Clan, he had never left that place, and had little contact with the outside world. He was like a blank slate, so coming to this world and becoming a child again was not hard to accept.

Very soon, seven or eight tenths of the pot of porridge had gone into Henry Carter’s stomach. He let out a long breath and put the bowl on the table. His drooping eyelids opened a little, and he looked at William Carter.

“If there’s work, you take it first. I’ll do it in the afternoon. I’m going back to sleep for a while.”

Henry Carter’s daily routine was very regular: sleeping in the morning, making some farm tools in the afternoon for income, and drinking at night.

“Okay, Dad,” William Carter nodded.

Henry Carter stood up. After drinking so much porridge, he was finally steady on his feet and walked toward the inner room.

“Dad,” William Carter suddenly called out.

Henry Carter stopped and turned to look at him, his brows showing obvious impatience.

William Carter pointed to a piece of raw iron in the corner, faintly gleaming with a dark luster, and said, “Can I use this piece of iron?” In his previous life, he was the best outer disciple of The Carter Clan, extremely skilled in making all kinds of hidden weapons. Of course, back then, all the materials were provided by The Carter Clan. After coming to this world, although he had trained for several years, his strength was still far from enough. At the same time, he had never thought of giving up his expertise in making hidden weapons. He had already started trying to forge some, but materials had become a big problem.

The metals Henry Carter used to make farm tools were all brought by villagers, mostly ordinary iron with many impurities, making it very difficult to craft fine hidden weapons. The piece of raw iron William Carter was pointing at had just been delivered yesterday, and to William Carter’s surprise, it actually contained some mother iron, making it perfect for crafting hidden weapons.