“Even a rabbit will bite when cornered. Walter Grant broke into the house to seize the prey and even tried to drive people out of the estate—who gave him such audacity? Who sent him to commit robbery in broad daylight?” Henry Foster shielded The Sullivan Father and Son and the others behind him, turned to face the manor guards, and, with a stern voice, delivered the words he had long prepared.

“Seventh Young Master! Walter was only acting out of loyalty to the young master!” Charles Grant hadn’t expected Henry Foster to push all the blame onto Walter Grant at this moment, completely protecting a tenant who meant nothing to the The Foster Family, and could no longer suppress the anger in his heart, forcing his voice down as he shouted.

At this moment, Henry Foster saw Walter Grant lying in a pool of blood inside the house, an arrow piercing through his chest, the dark iron arrowhead protruding from his leather armor. Henry Foster surmised that James Sullivan must have shot from inside the house; to shoot through leather armor and have the arrowhead emerge from the chest at such close range—what astonishing strength and reflexes! No wonder he had gifted the Black Cloud Bow yesterday; it truly hadn’t disappointed him.

Henry Foster turned back, his gaze burning as he fixed his eyes on Charles Grant, letting out a cold laugh.

Henry Foster himself couldn’t figure out how Walter Grant had become entangled with Yao Xishui and Wan Honglou, but it must have been because he’d deliberately mentioned recruiting The Sullivan Father and Son last night, which led Walter Grant to fall into the trap and become desperate to drive this family out of the estate.

He couldn’t explain all the twists and turns behind this to Charles Grant and David Grant, and since he still harbored resentment toward the guards who would one day betray him, he was determined to confront Charles Grant head-on and protect James Sullivan.

“I made it clear yesterday: whatever game the tenants hunt in the back hills, half is to be handed over to the manor. I said this plainly in front of Kyle Sullivan, and just as clearly in front of you, Charles Grant, and all the guards. Let me ask you again, Charles Grant: is this manor yours, or does it belong to my The Foster Family? Do my words count for nothing?”

Henry Foster stood his ground, glaring at Charles Grant and questioning him sternly.

“Now I’d like to ask you, Charles Grant: did you order Walter Grant to break in armed, seize the prey, and drive out the tenants? Are you intent on turning my The Foster Family’s Qiuhu Mountain Villa into your own The Grant Family’s property?”

“You…” Charles Grant was shaking with rage, never expecting Henry Foster to be so sharp-tongued, dumping such a heavy accusation on him and leaving him utterly speechless.

“Kyle Sullivan, let me ask you all—are you guards of my The Foster Family, or of Charles Grant?” Henry Foster fixed his gaze on Kyle Sullivan and the other guards, questioning them in a harsh tone.

Kyle Sullivan and the others hesitated, exchanging glances.

These guards had always looked down on the young master Henry Foster, but after last night’s incident in the dining hall, and with Walter Grant barging in with weapons at dawn to drive Uncle Sullivan’s family out, thinking it over, the young master Henry Foster’s words didn’t seem entirely unreasonable!

They had finally found a place to settle under the The Foster Family; their families were all servants of the The Foster Family. Though they respected Charles Grant, David Foster was the true master and had shown them greater kindness. They didn’t want to get involved in this scheme to seize land.

“Walter Grant broke in armed and was killed—this must be reported to the authorities. Our The Foster Family cannot take the law into our own hands!”

Henry Foster continued, speaking righteously.

“Kyle Sullivan, take some men and guard this place. Don’t let James Sullivan escape, but absolutely no private punishment or beatings—do not damage my father’s reputation. Otherwise, don’t blame my The Foster Family for being impartial and binding you all to be sent to the authorities for judgment!”

At this, Henry Foster cupped his hands to the watching tenants and said, “Would someone with quick legs please go fetch the village head to preside over justice.”

David Foster had only purchased the estate less than a year ago; the guards and their families were all considered The Foster Family’s servants, having moved here with David Foster from another place. The tenants were all local landless farmers hired to work, so there were bound to be conflicts of interest. Previously, Charles Grant had forbidden tenants from entering the back hills to gather firewood or hunt, which had already caused much friction.

However, no matter what, even the smallest finger of the The Foster Family was thicker than an ordinary person’s thigh. Charles Grant and the other guards were all highly skilled, fully armed, and fierce as wolves and tigers. The tenants, no matter how strictly managed, dared not voice their grievances.

No one had expected that the young master sent to the manor to study would turn out to be such a “reasonable” and “impartial” man of justice.

Chapter 9: Judgment

As soon as Henry Foster finished speaking, two young men whose spirits hadn’t yet been crushed by these troubled times dashed down the mountain to report to the village head.

Even with Henry Foster backing them, the other tenants stood on the outskirts, faces blank and fearful, not daring to get involved. Only that mother and daughter helped the bloodied James Sullivan to the base of the wall to protect him, waiting for the authorities to arrive and handle the matter, not allowing the The Foster Family guards to abuse their power.

Though Charles Grant was heartbroken over his foster son’s death, with Henry Foster holding the moral high ground, any further rash words or actions would only make him look all the more guilty.

Seeing Kyle Sullivan and the others now wavering, Charles Grant trembled with anger but could not defend himself, forced to watch helplessly as his foster son Walter Grant lay in a pool of blood. In his heart, he still believed that Walter had only come early to drive out The Sullivan Father and Son to vent his anger for him.