Charles Grant most likely received word from someone and hurried to the stream at this time. Seeing that Henry Foster wasn’t doing anything out of line, he simply stood on the opposite bank without saying a word. The setting sun cast its light on his dark, thin face, making it look as if it were covered with a layer of elm bark. No one could tell what he was thinking.

“Young master, please be careful. If you fall somewhere, Old Sullivan really won’t be able to explain it to the master!” Kyle Sullivan came running over, drenched in sweat. If Henry Foster spurred the purple-maned horse to speed up, he simply wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Henry Foster ignored the usually inconspicuous family guard Kyle Sullivan, suppressed his inner dissatisfaction, and calmly said to Charles Grant on the east bank of the stream:

“David Grant has good stamina. From now on, let him be the one to serve me when I ride; he’ll also dine with me in the East Courtyard, morning and evening. Master Grant, please instruct the kitchen to prepare meals in the East Courtyard according to David Grant’s appetite. Don’t let anyone think I would mistreat those close to me…”

“……” Charles Grant neither agreed nor disagreed, but simply instructed the sweat-soaked, skinny old guard, saying, “Kyle Sullivan, don’t let the purple-maned horse run wild again. If the young master gets hurt, you and I will have to repay the master’s kindness with our lives.”

The old mutt really is like a stone in a latrine—both stinky and hard!

Henry Foster cursed bitterly in his heart, then swung himself back onto the horse. But this time, Kyle Sullivan held the reins tightly, and even after Henry Foster scolded and lashed him twice, he still wouldn’t let go.

Kyle Sullivan was about forty years old, looking thin and small, his sallow face weathered like the skin of a rock eroded for a thousand years.

His arm, gripping the reins, was as skinny as a dead tree branch, yet it could hold the powerful purple-maned horse as if welded with cast iron, making it impossible for the horse to move an inch.

In the past, whenever none of the servants obeyed him, Henry Foster would lose his temper and get furious. But at this moment, he was slightly startled, not expecting the usually unremarkable Kyle Sullivan to have such strength in his arms!

Seeing Kyle Sullivan cower after being whipped twice, not daring to resist but still refusing to let go of the reins, Henry Foster thought of how Kyle Sullivan was always this timid and had often been bullied by other guards. He figured the suspicion was minimal.

Otherwise, Yvonne Bailey and those behind her would have gone to far too much trouble with him.

Since Kyle Sullivan wouldn’t let go, Henry Foster couldn’t pick up speed and gallop, making the exercise pointless. So he had Kyle Sullivan lead the horse toward the steep and rugged back mountain—which also belonged to the manor—taking the opportunity to look around at the surrounding scenery and terrain.

Mount Baohua is located between Jinling and Runzhou. Since Jinling’s old name was Shengzhou, Mount Baohua is also called Shengrun Mountain, stretching in a chain for over two hundred li along the southern bank of the Yangtze River.

Compared to Mount Baohua, Chishan Lake, which gathers the streams at the southern foot of the mountain and is only three or four li from the manor, is thirteen or fourteen li wide, but still seems quite insignificant.

As the sun set, dusk draped over the land like a faint purple veil, and the distant forests appeared full of hidden dangers.

At this point, Henry Foster didn’t dare wander outside, so he rode his horse, led by Kyle Sullivan, down the mountain.

There was still some distance to the manor below when an old and a young hunter emerged rustling from the forest.

The two wore coarse hemp clothes, grass ropes tied around their waists, sickles tucked in, and hemp shoes with toes exposed. Each carried a hunting bow and a bamboo basket on their back, with a simple arrow quiver made from bamboo joints. They looked familiar—likely tenant farmers from nearby.

Two lowly tenant farmers, daring to sneak into his family’s back mountain to poach game—if it were before, Henry Foster would have lashed out with his riding whip. But now, Henry Foster sat on his horse in contemplation, watching as the bamboo baskets on their backs were filled with golden pheasants and other game, with blood seeping from the bottom.

Kyle Sullivan glanced back at Henry Foster, saw his face clouded and unreadable, and not knowing what the young master was thinking, did his duty as a family guard. He turned and sternly questioned the two hunters, “Old Sullivan, you and your son had quite a haul in the mountains today!”

The two clearly hadn’t expected to run into Henry Foster and Kyle Sullivan here, and were startled.

After a moment’s daze, the elder recovered first, pulled the youth down to kneel, took off the bamboo baskets from their backs, and said in a trembling voice, “We were just about to deliver this game to the manor, but didn’t expect to meet the young master and Master Sullivan here!”

A rebellious look flashed in the youth’s eyes as he struggled to stand, but the elder pressed him down firmly, making him prostrate in the mud.

“You two are quite bold. How many times has Master Grant said it’s strictly forbidden to poach in the mountains? Do you just turn a deaf ear? Don’t you know this mountain belongs to the Han family? If it weren’t for the coincidence of running into me and the young master, would you really have delivered the game to the manor?”

Kyle Sullivan looked back and saw Henry Foster still expressionless, guessing the young master didn’t intend to let the father and son off easily. He gripped the knife at his waist and glared fiercely at the two.

“This time, you’re definitely being dragged to the county to be punished!”

Poaching is like theft—sent to the county office for punishment, they’d be beaten for sure. And if no one bribed or pleaded for them, a few beatings could leave them crippled or at least badly injured.

Hearing this, the elder’s face turned pale, and he kowtowed on the ground, begging for mercy. In his panic, he knocked over the two bamboo baskets behind him, spilling out the hunted game. Besides several golden pheasants, there was even a goshawk with an arrow through its belly.