The one eating the buns with big bites had broad shoulders and a thick build, looking quite sturdy, with a square face and large ears. The other one was a bit taller, with a very likable appearance—long, lively eyes, a straight and high nose bridge, a broad forehead, and a sunny smile at the corner of his mouth.

These two youths suddenly noticed someone watching them. Looking over, they saw it was a shop assistant, and quickly retreated outside, blending into the crowd.

Seeing that Grace Bolton was still watching them, Mrs. Clark called out, “Come, give me a hand.”

“Huh? Coming.” Grace Bolton was startled, snapped back to his senses, and stepped forward to help.

Even in the cold wind, Mrs. Clark was busy to the point of sweating. As she brushed past, she whispered, “Those two just now are the leaders of the little orphans who can’t get enough to eat. They gather in the ruined houses outside the city. If they weren’t starving, he wouldn’t have come to me.”

“Mrs. Clark, you’re so kind.” When he said the words Mrs. Clark, he couldn’t help but emphasize them: “Do you know their names?”

“I think one is called George Knight, the other Thomas Clark. Poor things, their parents were killed by marauding soldiers, and now they’re orphans.”

“Is that so?” Grace Bolton replied calmly, but his hands were trembling.

After a while, when the shop was empty and it was break time, he finally allowed his emotions to show. He walked out into the snowy yard. The snowflakes didn’t seem big or dense at first, drifting lightly like willow catkins in the wind. But as the wind picked up, the snow fell harder and thicker, the flakes growing larger, weaving a white net through which nothing could be seen even a few yards away. It was like an endless curtain falling straight to the ground. Gradually, the dark sky and the sea of snow became one, and nothing could be seen at all.

Grace Bolton stood motionless in the snow, as if countless thunderclaps exploded in his mind. In his heart, only four words echoed over and over: “Great Tang Twin Dragons, Great Tang Twin Dragons…!”

Chapter Three: The Ceremony (Part One)

Let’s set aside the matter of George Knight and Thomas Clark for now. Grace Bolton’s ceremony to become the adopted son of Mr. Foster was urgent, and in ancient times, this was a major event.

Although the plan was to establish the father-son relationship before New Year’s Day and then celebrate the New Year, and time was short, Mr. Foster still arranged everything with great ceremony. The details can be skipped for now. On the eighteenth of the twelfth month, after Grace Bolton got up early and changed into new clothes, a hubbub soon arose inside and outside Mr. Foster’s courtyard.

“Little brother, come out, everyone’s almost here.” The caller was a man in his thirties, leaning on a cane.

Grace Bolton hurried out of the house and rushed forward to help, saying, “How could I dare let my elder brother come call me in person? I really don’t deserve it.”

This man was Mr. Foster’s own son, Robert Foster. Hearing this, Robert Foster smiled slightly. “Today is special. According to custom, this is how it should be. This is your sister-in-law, and these are your niece and nephew.”

The daughter was about ten years old, and the son only two or three. They greeted him politely.

Amid laughter and conversation, they reached the main hall. Although this wasn’t a surname-changing ceremony and not many clan members were invited, a few relatives had come, and quite a few brothers from the society as well—mostly local incense masters and the like. Just then, there was a commotion outside.

Someone stepped forward and whispered a few words to Mr. Foster. Mr. Foster’s expression changed, and he quickly said, “Come, let’s go welcome Master Sullivan together.”

“Ah, even Master Sullivan is here? Mr. Foster really has some influence!” Some people were already whispering. Grace Bolton looked over and saw more than twenty people escorting a man forward. As they approached, a voice rang out: “Ah, Young Foster, I’m here on behalf of the leader to see you. The leader heard you’ve taken in an adopted son. Though he’s busy, he specially sent me to have a look!”

“Ah, thank you for the leader’s concern, and thank you, John Sullivan, for your care. I am truly grateful, and can never repay you.” Mr. Foster stepped forward and bowed deeply. As an old follower from the society’s founding days and a former deputy hall master, he didn’t need to kneel.

But Grace Bolton did. He immediately stepped forward and knelt: “Grace Bolton, pays respects to Master Sullivan.”

“Ah, I’m an old friend of Young Foster. Since you’re his adopted son, just call me Uncle Sullivan.”

Master Sullivan smiled warmly and personally helped Grace Bolton up. Grace Bolton glanced at Mr. Foster, saw him nod, and then stood up, calling out again, “Uncle Sullivan.”

“Good, good. Yes, truly a fine young man, a hero in the making! Mr. Foster, you really have an eye for talent!” Master Sullivan looked him over and laughed. “Our society has gained another rising star, haha.”

Grace Bolton naturally responded with humble thanks. While they greeted the others, he took the chance to observe Master Sullivan. James Sullivan was actually the main hall master of Fengzhu Hall, commanding two thousand brave and capable men, with influence across more than twenty nearby counties—a man of real power and status. The twenty guards around him were calm and imposing, clearly skilled martial artists. Yet James Sullivan himself was not yet forty, and his face even bore a touch of scholarly elegance.

After a few words, seeing that everyone had gathered and the time had come, a command was given, and everyone arranged themselves according to rank and seniority.