Compared to the filth outside, the house was a little messy but still fairly clean.
Old Karl cheerfully led them inside, then went to the back room to pour them some water.
Rebecca took the opportunity to look around the home she had left half a year ago.
The layout had not changed much. Like this small city, it was dilapidated and dim, yet still kept running on its own.
The carpentry tools all bore signs of use, and the corners of the room were piled with shavings and sawdust—none of that was trash. It could be sold for money.
Karl's workmanship could not compare with old Vance's, but it was still usable, and that was enough. The neighbors cared more about saving a few extra Leos. Cheap and usable—that was good enough.
Saws, chisels, planes... Old Vance looked at his old "companions," and the familiar feeling of bygone days surged back. A smile unconsciously appeared on his face.
But then he thought of the steam-powered cutting machines, steel table saws, and other equipment in the factories. The lumber those machines processed in a single work shift was enough to keep him busy for half a month.
A trace of confusion appeared in old Vance's eyes—did everything he knew, did his life, truly have any meaning?
This rundown house was like the weeds of the Northern Territory's wilderness. The only thing worth praising was that it was still alive.
He could not even save enough here to build a new wooden house, despite being a carpenter and working tirelessly every day.
Yet their new home in Blood Port had concrete walls that blocked noise and retained warmth—things his former self would never have dared to dream of.
Karl became much more enthusiastic. He and the old woman brought out the