Edward Bolton coldly watched his foolish eldest son. Because of his loss of reason in a fit of rage, a disgraceful incident had spread throughout the entire The Bolton Residence, and now it was not only his own reputation at stake—he himself had been dragged into the mess.

　　Appointing David Bolton as the heir was dictated by the clan rules of the Zhang family, but Edward Bolton himself did not like this son—not only because he was hypocritical and selfish, but more importantly because of his mother. Back then, it was she who deliberately delayed the rescue, causing his own wife and three sons to die tragically at the hands of the Huihe people. Ever since making her his principal wife, Edward Bolton had never shared a bed with her again.

　　The son before him lacked any of the magnanimity and decisiveness a Zhang clan leader should possess. Everywhere on him was the shadow of his mother: petty, hypocritical, vicious, and foolish. Edward Bolton sighed inwardly, then drew out his words and asked, “Why didn’t you execute him?”

　　At this moment, David Bolton’s mind was in turmoil. He was filled with both hatred and regret—hatred that Peter Bolton had dared to sneak in at night and attempt to rape his concubine; though he had ultimately failed, her innocence was already sullied. Regret that he had lost his composure and let the whole household know.

　　Although he wished he could cut Peter Bolton into a thousand pieces, as the heir of the Zhang family, he had to put on a show of righteousness. When his father questioned him, he answered cautiously, “According to family rules, he should be beaten to death, but by national law, his crime is not punishable by death. So I plan to break his arm and hand him over to the authorities!”

　　“National law?” Edward Bolton sneered, “National law is nothing but a shackle to restrain the poor and lowly. You are the eldest son of the Zhang family—if you act according to national law in everything, within ten years, the Zhang family will be ruined in your hands.”

　　Edward Bolton’s voice grew increasingly stern. “A man who is humiliated should rise up and kill! You can’t even decisively deal with a mere household slave—how can you accomplish anything great? Go! Take the staff yourself and beat that wicked slave to death in public for me!”

　　“Yes, I will go at once.” Cold sweat covered David Bolton’s forehead. He dared not wipe it away, and, stammering, was about to leave.

　　“Wait!” Edward Bolton called him back again. “How will you deal with that woman?”

　　David Bolton’s heart skipped a beat. He had feared his father would ask about this, but now that he had, he could only brace himself and say, “The second concubine is a victim, and besides, she wasn’t actually violated…”

　　“Nonsense!” Edward Bolton roared in anger. He sprang to his feet, pointed at his son, and cursed, “You fool! Now that the scandal has become public, you still dare keep her? If you want to be soft-hearted, then don’t be the head of the Zhang family. Get out!”

　　David Bolton turned pale with fright. He nearly crawled out of his father’s room, and seeing no one outside, he shot a venomous glare back and muttered under his breath, “Old bastard, one day I’ll make you pay!”

　　Just then, someone approached. David Bolton jumped in alarm. Looking closely, he saw it was Henry Bolton, with whom he’d had a dispute the day before. He was about to scold him, but Henry Bolton spoke first, cupping his fists with sympathy, “I heard of your misfortune, big brother. I truly sympathize. Sigh! Anyone would find such a thing hard to bear. Just endure it and let it go.”

　　David Bolton’s face turned livid with rage. Before he could explode, he heard Edward Bolton’s angry shout from inside, “What are you dawdling for? Get going!”

　　David Bolton shot Henry Bolton a fierce glare, swallowed his anger, and left in hatred. Henry Bolton watched his departing figure and let out a soft, cold laugh.

　　The courtyard was very quiet. Henry Bolton did not announce himself, but stood patiently waiting in the yard. After a long while, he finally heard Edward Bolton’s slow voice from inside the room, “Come in.”

　　Although Henry Bolton had been to the inner courtyard many times, today was his first time entering the head of the family’s room. The room was simply furnished: the walls were painted snow-white, and directly opposite the door hung a painting of a fierce tiger returning to the mountains. Against the wall stood a luohan bed, with a small table on it, neatly arranged with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Other than that, there was nothing else.

　　Henry Bolton felt a secret admiration—those in high positions truly lived simply; the saying was indeed true.

　　He entered the room and bowed deeply. “Eighteenth son greets the family head.”

　　Edward Bolton stood with his hands behind his back at the window, head raised, gazing at the drifting white clouds. After a long pause, he smiled faintly and said, “Do you know why I agreed to see you?”

　　“Eighteenth son does not know.”

　　“Of course you do!” Edward Bolton turned to look at him, silver hair fluttering, deep lines etched on his cheeks. He smiled at Henry Bolton and said, “You showed great restraint—you didn’t touch his principal wife. I appreciate that!”

　　Henry Bolton’s back suddenly stiffened, but then slowly relaxed. He neither denied nor explained, simply stood silently, waiting for what would come next. Seeing that he neither panicked nor tried to deny it, Edward Bolton secretly admired him. He pointed to the straw mat with a cushion on the floor and said, “Sit down and talk.”

　　Henry Bolton sat cross-legged, bowed slightly to Edward Bolton, and said, “Eighteenth son has come to ask a favor of the family head.”

　　“Is it about that piece of land belonging to the Lin family?” Seeing a flash of surprise in Henry Bolton’s eyes, Edward Bolton smiled slightly and said, “When you and Little David quarreled yesterday at noon, I was in the nearby pine grove.”