Old Dad's words made Madam in the carriage feel both amused and on the verge of tears. How could such words come from her husband's mouth? Don't you often recite Minister Wen's Song of Righteousness? Don't you always say you won't bow for five pecks of rice? Where has your pride gone?

　　Old Mom wanted to laugh, but also felt a pang of sadness.

　　Old Mr. Bolton seemed to have guessed her thoughts.

　　"Madam, are you about to mock me? Let me tell you, I haven't changed. We're going to Haozhou, not the Yuan court's territory. If—if the leader of the Red Turban Army truly is a man of great talent and vision, I—I will assist him. Who knows, maybe we could become a story like Emperor Gaozu of Han and Xiao He!"

　　Madam really did laugh out loud. Such thick skin! Stop dreaming of glory—just being safe and sound would be enough.

　　William Bolton dared not laugh, but he did notice one of Old Dad's strengths: finding joy in hardship, at least not being pedantic. It seemed that Zhu's side didn't have many civil officials either. As long as they reached Haozhou safely, there would still be opportunities in the future.

　　The carriage was getting closer and closer to Haozhou, and William Bolton's mind grew more active.

　　But just then, a squad of Yuan soldiers suddenly appeared not far ahead, escorting looted goods and grain back to their camp.

　　On some of their horses' manes, there were even bloody human heads—old and young, men and women—apparently trophies of victory. But whether they were truly earned or just innocent victims, only they themselves knew.

　　Seeing this scene, Old Mr. Bolton was instantly terrified out of his wits. He quickly turned the carriage around, desperate to escape these harbingers of disaster.

　　But just as Old Mr. Bolton was about to flee, the Yuan soldiers seemed to notice them, sending out two riders to chase after the carriage. The two soldiers raised their weapons high, letting out strange cries, like beasts spotting their prey.

　　"This is bad!"

　　Old Dad hurriedly drove the carriage in a panic, while inside, William Bolton and Old Mom were both terrified.

　　What should they do?

　　At this moment, Old Mr. Bolton's scalp tingled and his hair stood on end. Looking back, the Yuan soldiers were getting closer and closer. How could his broken-down carriage outrun them?

　　Was his whole family about to die?

　　In his desperation, Old Mr. Bolton spotted a ditch by the roadside, with a few willow trees and a clump of dry grass nearby.

　　He had an idea!

　　Old Mr. Bolton pulled the carriage to a stop. He turned and reached out, grabbing William Bolton's arm. "Quick, get out!" Old Mom helped, getting William Bolton off the carriage. As for Edward Clark, the little one was quite nimble and got down as well, lips tightly pressed together, eyes darting around—by now, the Yuan soldiers were almost upon them.

　　"You take them and hide inside."

　　Mrs. Bolton was stunned. "Master, what about you?"

　　"Don't worry about me!"

　　With just those words, Old Mr. Bolton jumped back onto the carriage shaft and whipped the old horse desperately. The horse, stung by pain, bolted forward, and the Yuan soldiers, seeing the carriage, chased after it.

　　Mrs. Bolton was stunned at first, but how could she not understand? Her husband was risking his life to protect them!

　　After twenty years of marriage, her husband was her sky, her everything. Now, for her and their son, he was willing to give up his life.

　　Mrs. Bolton wished she could run after him and die together, but her son was still by her side. Her heart felt torn in two.

　　At this moment, William Bolton's face was pale, his eyes burning with rage. He knew the Yuan soldiers were brutal, but when the butcher's knife actually fell on his own family, the anger was beyond words. Yet now, he could barely walk—he'd fall over with a gust of wind—what could he do?

　　His mother pulled William Bolton and ran into the trees. She looked around—thankfully, there was some dry grass and leaves to hide them. She didn't care about anything else, grabbing at them with her hands. Her fair fingers bled, but she seemed not to notice the pain, covering William Bolton and Edward Clark as best she could.

　　Just as Mrs. Bolton was about to find a hiding place for herself, the sound of hooves came closer and closer. Mrs. Bolton was startled again.

　　It was bad—her husband hadn't led those beasts far enough away; they were coming back!

　　How could a few trees hide three people?

　　Her husband was already dead—was she to let his sacrifice be in vain?

　　"My son, mother can't take care of you anymore. You must live well!" Mrs. Bolton stared at her son, as if to carve his image into her heart, then, with tears streaming down her face, rushed out of the grove, running resolutely in another direction.

　　William Bolton was stunned. Anyone who had lived through peaceful times—could they ever imagine that a group of soldiers would dare to openly slaughter civilians? His parents, one after another, sacrificing themselves to save him.

　　What kind of world was this? William Bolton felt like he was about to explode. He was angry, grief-stricken—he didn't want to lose the parents he'd just regained.

　　"Mother, come back!"

　　William Bolton tried to stand and stop his mother—even if it meant dying, they should die together. But he was too weak; he barely got halfway up before everything went black and he collapsed.

　　In a daze, William Bolton heard screams—his mother was dead... Overcome with grief and rage, William Bolton completely lost consciousness. Edward Clark, curled up beside him, suddenly moved, quickly covering William Bolton's face with dry branches and leaves, then stayed motionless, huddled at William Bolton's side, his practiced movements heartbreaking to see.

　　……

　　The night was cold. William Bolton slowly woke up—he was still alive! He didn't know whether the Yuan soldiers had been fooled or just couldn't be bothered to search, but in any case, he had survived the ordeal.

　　Gritting his teeth, he used all his strength to crawl up from the ground bit by bit. It took all he had just to stand, but his body was still too weak, and he nearly collapsed again.