Even people like him, who originally had no intention of rebelling, were forced to take up arms. Tens of thousands of commoners all wished for the fall of the Yuan court; even immortals would be powerless to turn the tide.

John Washington suddenly felt that someone as talented as William Bolton was too rare, and it was a bit of a waste to keep him just for his own enlightenment.

“Little sir, you are literate, articulate, and knowledgeable. Staying here with us is truly beneath you. Once you recover, I’ll recommend you to meet the Commander-in-Chief. I guarantee he will put your talents to good use.”

Commander-in-Chief?

James Harris?

William Bolton had no interest at all. After chatting with Old Mr. Washington, he was absolutely certain—this was the future Hongwu Emperor, George Washington... In the chaotic times at the end of the Yuan dynasty, unless you had a sniper rifle and killed Old Mr. Washington outright, even a time traveler might not be able to outdo him.

Why? Just because of Old Mr. Washington’s ruthless determination to overthrow the rich and redistribute land, even a time traveler would be doomed if they crossed him.

William Bolton was not yet twelve, and a sickly child at that. He didn’t think he had the ability to go it alone right now. Since that was the case, clinging to Old Mr. Washington’s leg was the best option.

Many people, when they mention Old Mr. Washington, have a stereotype that he liked to kill his meritorious officials, and that following Old Mr. Washington would never end well. But let’s not forget people like Thomas Miller and David Scott, who died of old age, even sharing the fate of the nation.

Should those corrupt, lawless, and reckless officials be worshipped just because they contributed to the founding of the country? Should they be allowed to live just because of their merits?

Old Mr. Washington was an emperor who clawed his way up from the very bottom, completely different from those who relied on noble clans to seize the throne. He had a deep-seated hatred for corruption and an extremely low tolerance for it, so naturally he was ruthless. In other dynasties, meritorious officials might only hoard wealth, not power, as a way to save their own lives, but sorry, Old Mr. Washington was different.

On the other hand, as long as you didn’t embezzle or seize power, you could still live quite peacefully.

Joseph Baker was killed because, although he had retired to his hometown, he couldn’t stay out of politics and tried to control the court from afar. As for Charles Grant, his arrogance and lawlessness led to his own demise.

Of course, there were also wrongful cases, like Robert Green and Richard Foster... But for William Bolton, he still had another option. At worst, he could follow Edward Clark to Yunnan, where it’s spring all year round, and he could watch elephants and peacocks—life would be pretty sweet!

What’s more, right now John Washington had just joined the army and was still under James Harris’s command, not acting independently... So why not set himself an unrealistic goal: to gradually influence Old Mr. Washington and make the foundation of the Ming dynasty even more solid and secure.

After all, there were still more than ten years before the founding of the Ming dynasty—no need to worry about things decades down the line just yet.

While William Bolton was pondering, John Washington looked at him, puzzled. Did this kid look down on the Commander-in-Chief? Was he unwilling to serve the Red Turban Army?

Maybe so. After all, he came from a scholarly family. Even if he had a grudge against the Yuan court, he wouldn’t want to become a bandit and ruin his reputation...

Just as John Washington was lost in thought, William Bolton bowed deeply and said solemnly, “Benefactor, I am young, weak, and not well-learned. If I go to the Commander-in-Chief, I’ll only cause trouble. If you don’t mind, please let me follow you and serve you instead!”

John Washington frowned—how interesting. He didn’t want to follow the Commander-in-Chief, but was willing to follow him...

“Little sir, I’m just a mere squad leader of nine men. You think that highly of me?” John Washington subtly changed the way he addressed him.

William Bolton nodded firmly, met John Washington’s gaze, and smiled: “How did the Han Gaozu start? He was just a village chief!”

Chapter Five: Knowledge is Power

Village chief!

Squad leader of nine!

They really aren’t that different.

Wait, isn’t the point of that statement to hint that he might have the fate of an emperor?

John Washington was startled. Who did he think he was? A little monk who’d left the monastery, a beggar... His status was worlds apart from that of an emperor—like a toad lusting after swan meat.

After the shock, John Washington couldn’t help but daydream a little. When Adams brought up new food and wine and called out to them, John Washington finally snapped back to reality. He nodded awkwardly, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Little sir, thank you for thinking so highly of me. Please stay. With a famous teacher to guide me, I must consult you often.”

At last, he was able to stay—he’d managed to cling to this thick, sturdy leg.

But William Bolton still wasn’t satisfied. He pressed his luck: “If you want me to teach, Benefactor, I’ll need books. Can I be in charge of all the books and documents in this courtyard?”

John Washington couldn’t help but laugh. There were only a few confiscated books that no one read—what documents could there be!

Maybe this kid didn’t know how minor a squad leader of nine really was?

Old Mr. Washington laughed heartily, “Alright, here, anything with writing on it is yours to manage!”

Deal, you said it!

Don’t go back on your word.

Managing affairs for an ordinary landlord or merchant at most made you a bookkeeper—not worth much.

But managing documents for a regional warlord was like being the chief secretary to a military governor—people like Feng Dao and Zhao Pu had done that.

At the level of emperor, the manager was the prime minister of the whole country (don’t mention the eunuch directors of the Directorate of Ceremonial). William Bolton could almost see his own path to promotion—life was looking more and more promising.