John Foster jumped up and started cursing at the bird.

　　“Thieving bird! Thieving bird!”

　　“Ungrateful thing!”

　　“No one’s going to feed you, sooner or later you’ll starve to death, you damn animal!!”

　　……

　　The next day.

　　A horse walked forward with its head down.

　　It was a very old horse.

　　Its messy hair was sparse, and its old, wrinkled skin clung to its bones.

　　Its hooves were heavy.

　　Every step forward came with a pause; when going uphill, its hooves trembled.

　　“Crack～～～”

　　The whip snapped on the horse’s back, but the old horse just drooped its head, its cloudy eyes showing no sadness or pain.

　　“Beast!!”

　　“Crack～～～”

　　Another lash, and it finally began to shake its head, pretending to put in more effort.

　　The old horse was pulling a cart, which looked like just a wooden plank set on two wheels, and sitting on the plank was David Bolton.

　　For David Bolton, kneeling was really uncomfortable, so he could only spread his legs apart, taking up the whole cart by himself, and a humming sound still came from his breathing.

　　The guards on either side tightened their belts around their waists, puffing out their chests to show off their strong physiques.

　　From time to time, they looked back and shouted in thunderous voices, “Faster!!!”

　　Following behind them were six pairs of bare feet. The huge burlap sacks completely covered their bodies, so only the feet moving under the sacks could be seen, not the people carrying them.

　　Grace Foster carried a fishing spear, walking at the very end.

　　On both sides of the road were thick green weeds, among which could be seen pitch-black skulls and bright red flowers.

　　David Bolton looked back several times and, seeing Grace Foster at the end, smiled and waved, signaling him to come forward.

　　Grace Foster stared straight into his eyes, saying nothing.

　　David Bolton turned his head away and cursed under his breath.

　　A guard approached him, “Master, he didn’t bring any goods, so why is he going to the county town?”

　　David Bolton grinned, his big yellow teeth crooked and uneven.

　　“You weren’t here yesterday. He said he was going to take the county exam…”

　　“What exam?”

　　“To become a minor official at the county office!”

　　The guard’s face grew solemn. “That’s serious.”

　　“Nonsense, with him being a butcher, killing without blinking, and he wants to be an official?”

　　“He can act tough in the countryside, but in the county town, I bet he won’t last three days!”

　　ps: In August, more than 300,000 craftsmen were sent to build three camps at Yexia, raising them higher and broader on the old foundations, and constructing palaces and the Youyu Garden. — Book of Northern Qi, Annals of Emperor Wenxuan

Chapter 6: The First Hundred Coins

　　The group whispered among themselves.

　　Ahead were several steep slopes.

　　The old horse struggled, and after passing the slope, a man stood by the roadside.

　　A long, colorful skirt trailed on the ground, wide sleeves fluttered, red and green interwoven—a standard woman’s outfit.

　　But inside the dress was a filthy face, blackened skin, hair and beard tangled together, expressionless, holding a blackened short knife, watching the group.

　　Even David Bolton’s humming paused for a moment.

　　The two guards gripped their clubs tightly.

　　As the group passed by him, the man’s head turned to follow their movement, his eyes never leaving them.

　　“Move faster, move faster.”

　　David Bolton’s face was pale as he urged the guards on either side.

　　But ahead was another slope.

　　Just as David Bolton was about to raise his whip, another man appeared on the slope.

　　And another emerged from the left.

　　The three men’s faces were expressionless, but they all walked toward David Bolton and the others, standing in three directions.

　　They said nothing, and neither did David Bolton.

　　The silence lasted a long time, and David Bolton shivered.

　　“I have some food here… and there are more of us.”

　　The three seemed not to hear, slowly closing in, staring intently at David Bolton and the two guards… no, they were just staring at their round, bulging bellies.

　　Their throats moved as they swallowed.

　　The two guards were terrified, frozen in place, lips pressed together, teeth clenched, eyes flickering with fear.

　　They wanted to do something, even just shout, but at that moment their whole bodies went weak, all strength gone, unable to move.

　　Grace Foster also saw them swallow.

　　The corner of his left eye twitched, a flash of fierceness in his gaze.

　　“Whoosh～～～”

　　A fishing spear shot through the air, striking the man in the dress right in the neck.

　　The man’s throat was torn open by the spear, blood spraying out, the spear flying on and falling to the ground, the man’s head drooping to one side, only a bit of flesh still connecting it to his body.

　　The man in front had just heard the sound when he heard his companion fall.

　　A gust of wind blew.

　　Someone appeared in midair, pain exploding across his face.

　　David Bolton saw Grace Foster charging forward, leaping up, and smashing his knee into the bandit’s face.

　　The bandit’s face burst open, red, black, and yellow, and he fell to the ground screaming.

　　Grace Foster snatched up the knife and stepped forward.

　　“Pshh!”

　　The third bandit, standing behind Grace Foster, swung his knife hard, tearing open Grace Foster’s clothes and leaving a shallow red mark on his back.