The War Department hasn’t allocated any grain—what am I supposed to distribute to them?”

David Brooks shook his head and said, “It’s only right for soldiers to eat. For now, I can barely keep things under control, but if we don’t issue rations soon, I believe a mutiny is imminent.”

James Walker shook his head and said, “The chaos in Shaanxi is already a fact, and the court knows it too. So, let it be chaotic—better there than in the capital.

After a massive explosion at the gunpowder depot, most of the capital is nearly in ruins. Two high-ranking officials died, and all the eunuchs in His Majesty’s imperial kitchen were killed by falling tiles. His Majesty cowered under the offering table, trembling and afraid to come out… In such a situation, who could spare a thought for this remote borderland of Yansui?

Just hold on. When you can’t hold on any longer, there will always be a way…”

Seeing the hint of despair on James Walker’s face, David Brooks sighed and continued to watch the punishment.

“Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven… one hundred! The punishment is over!”

As the guard captain finished counting to one hundred, the two soldiers carrying out the punishment stopped at the same time, leaning on their sticks and gasping for breath.

Charles Bolton slowly raised his head, staring at the two officers sitting on the platform. He neither cried out in pain nor begged for mercy, but simply fixed his gaze on them.

James Walker glanced at Charles Bolton and said to David Brooks, “This man is wild and unruly. On ordinary days, I would most appreciate such a fierce soldier, but right now, it’s best not to keep someone like this in the army, lest he cause even greater harm.”

David Brooks gave a bitter smile and said, “I will strictly obey your orders, sir!”

With that, David Brooks got up and walked over to Charles Bolton, looking down at him and saying, “This is the best I can do for you. The general cannot tolerate you. Charles Bolton, you’ll have to find your own way.”

Charles Bolton was silent for a moment, then stretched out a hand and said, “I still haven’t received half a year’s rations!”

David Brooks looked up at the dim yellow sun for a moment, then pulled a handful of copper coins from his robe and tossed them in front of Charles Bolton’s face, saying coolly, “This is all there is!”

Charles Bolton struggled to get up from the ground, ignoring his discarded pants, kneeling naked with his bloodied backside, and picked up the coins one by one…

When he dug the last coin out of the dirt, he looked regretfully at the empty ground and muttered, “Still short by a hundred and forty-seven coins!”

David Brooks said coldly, “This is a favor from me to you!”

Charles Bolton’s bearded face twitched slightly. He looked up at David Brooks and said, “In the end, the Ming court still owes me a hundred and forty-seven coins!”

David Brooks sneered, “Put on your pants and get lost!”

Charles Bolton bent down to pick up his pants, but didn’t put them on. He slung them over his shoulder, limping away with his battered, naked backside, slowly making his way out of the camp.

Once he left, he never looked back…

Ever since the camp was established here, there had been no one living nearby.

Looking around, there were only one hill after another, none of them very high, like giant earthen buns scattered across the land.

Charles Bolton walked on and on, and eventually the wounds on his backside stopped bleeding. His back was uninjured—that was his greatest luck.

He walked from noon until sunset, and from sunset until dawn. At last, Charles Bolton stopped in a mountain hollow.

He faintly heard the bleating of sheep, and a smile appeared on his face as he quickened his pace into the hollow.

This year’s rainfall was poor, so there wasn’t much grass on the hills—just a dozen or so skinny sheep gnawing at the roots.

A shepherd sat under a barkless elm tree, watching his flock.

Suddenly, he spotted Charles Bolton, cried out, and bolted.

Charles Bolton didn’t give chase. Instead, he grabbed a sheep and slammed it to the ground. Baa—a miserable bleat. The shepherd’s feet seemed nailed to the earth; he couldn’t run anymore.

“Charles Bolton, do you want me to live or not? Do you want me to live or not?”

Charles Bolton grinned at the shepherd and said, “I just want one sheep… and besides, I’ll be needing your wife for a bit.”

The shepherd, enraged, tore off his shirt and charged headlong at Charles Bolton.

But the scrawny shepherd was no match for Charles Bolton. With one hand, Charles Bolton easily grabbed the shepherd’s head. The shepherd flailed his arms, trying to fight back, but against the long-limbed Charles Bolton, his resistance was as feeble as a child’s. With a twist of his wrist, Charles Bolton spun the shepherd around, then kicked him to the ground with his hairy foot.

The shepherd’s chest was pinned under the big foot. He used all his strength but couldn’t pry the leg off, so he could only cry out desperately toward the nearby hut, “Chunya, run!”

Charles Bolton grinned as he watched the shepherd struggle under his foot, his burning gaze fixed on the hut.

A woman rushed out of the hut in a panic, like a headless fly, trying to run behind the hill. But seeing her husband struggling under Charles Bolton’s foot, she slowed, then stopped, and step by step walked toward Charles Bolton.

Charles Bolton laughed wildly, found a length of sheep’s wool rope, and began tying up the shepherd. As he bound him, he sneered, “I walked half a day and a night just to find your wife.”