Chen Xingbang really did know how to slaughter pigs. While Li Anguo, Li Junfeng, Li Junshan, and the others held down the first pig as it squealed, Chen Xingbang picked his spot, pressed down its head, and plunged the knife in. Liang Yuemei crouched beside him and placed a basin beneath the pig's head. Chen Xingbang drew the knife back just a little, and a stream of blood spurted straight into the basin.
The pig struggled violently, and almost at the same instant, Chen Xingbang shouted:
"Hold it down!"
The men holding the pig all bore down together. The pig heaved upward but failed to break free. Chen Xingbang did not pull the knife straight out. He eased it back a little farther and levered it sideways, sending the blood spurting again.
By the time Chen Xingbang pulled the knife all the way out, the pig was only twitching.
Watching him, Li Long felt that Chen Xingbang was even more practiced at slaughtering pigs than Wang the Miser.
Virtually none of the blood was wasted, and the knife had pierced the heart in a single thrust. The pig had only really struggled hard at the very beginning. After that, it had no strength left, making things easier for the men holding it down.
Li Long guessed that Wang the Miser had actually been pressed into slaughtering pigs. He might originally have been only half-trained, but since no one else had ever slaughtered one, the job had fallen to him.
When there were no heroes, even a nobody could make a name for himself. It was probably something like that.
Of course, later in his previous life, Wang the Miser could certainly have been called a master of pig slaughtering. After all, with a dozen or even several dozen pigs to