Upon hearing the question, Jiang Hao responded with a calm smile, "You're joking. I started chopping wood when I was four or five. Back then, my strength was small, and it was quite difficult."
In that very place, Jiang Hao placed the cleaver on the firewood, gave it a few light taps, then positioned it firmly. With two heavy strikes, the wood split apart.
"Four or five years old?" The old man exclaimed, "Could you even hold the knife steady?"
"It was quite a struggle back then," Jiang Hao replied with a smile. He had no lingering resentment for his hardships from those years, save for his stepmother's scoldings, which he barely even remembered. He couldn't even recall her face anymore.
"It seems you truly came from a humble background," the old man commented, still in disbelief.