“What’s wrong?” Charles Bolton’s face changed dramatically, all his previous calm swept away. He exclaimed anxiously, “Could it be that my family will also be implicated?”

“Younger Brother Bolton, don’t panic yet, this matter… this matter… sigh…” John Harris glanced at Charles Bolton with concern. “I heard your son didn’t leave the capital, but instead took Edward Smith and Henry Cooper with him, saying he was going to capture the traitor Zhao.”

As soon as Charles Bolton heard this, his face instantly turned ashen. He hung his head, saying nothing.

John Harris looked at Charles Bolton with sympathy.

He had long heard that James Bolton was a troublemaker, and now, facing death, he was still so reckless and ignorant.

That traitor Zhao was no ordinary man—even the Embroidered Uniform Guard had failed to capture him despite their best efforts, let alone someone like him.

Now, the Eastern Depot was desperate to find a scapegoat. Charles Bolton was doomed, and as for his son, the longer he stayed in the capital, the greater the danger.

The situation was far too complicated. At a time like this, to keep stirring up trouble was nothing short of courting death.

At this moment, Charles Bolton collapsed to the ground, shackled all over. Yet even this hadn’t made him lose his last shred of hope. But now, he seemed utterly lifeless. He looked up in despair, “My son… my son…”

Here, his words broke off abruptly, choked with emotion. After a long pause, he finally took a deep breath and said, “Brother Harris, you may go. I understand.”

John Harris looked at Charles Bolton with sympathy. “In three days, the execution will take place. In the meantime, I’ll ask the Southern Town Patrol Division to take good care of you. If there’s anything you want to eat, or any last wishes, just say so. As for your son, I’ll do my best to protect him.”

Charles Bolton sat as still as a stone statue, unmoving. Clearly, even his last bit of hope was gone.

It was good that someone wanted to help, but at this point, to keep acting blindly and pointlessly, losing his own protection—maybe he could be saved for a while, but could he be saved for a lifetime?

……

John Harris left the imperial prison, the image of Charles Bolton’s despair still lingering in his mind, and he couldn’t help but sigh.

There were plenty of good-for-nothing sons among the Embroidered Uniform Guard, especially James Bolton, who had long been a source of endless worry for Charles Bolton.

He couldn’t help but lament: what use is all the wealth and glory in life, if your descendants are worthless? In the end, it’s all for nothing.

John Harris felt heavy-hearted. No matter what, he and Charles Bolton were old acquaintances. Now that the Zhang family was in trouble and he was powerless to help, all he could do was smile bitterly from the sidelines.

He rode back to the Eastern City Command Post. As a commander, he sat in the duty hall and then shouted, “Attend me!”

On both sides, several officers in fish-scale uniforms, looking imposing, bowed and said, “Here!”

John Harris barked sternly, “Find a way to track down James Bolton. If you encounter him, seize him at once and bring him to me.”

The officers all nodded. “Yes, sir!”

John Harris then gave a bitter smile. “At least let the Zhang family have a descendant…”

……

A group of people had already entered the capital.

James Bolton had always thought that in the sixth year of the Tianqi reign, the Ming Dynasty’s fate was sealed. After all, this era had Wei Zhongxian, a foolish emperor, and endless factional strife.

Even the Little Ice Age was worsening, land was being consolidated, and countless starving corpses littered the land, while the rising Later Jin in Liaodong launched repeated invasions.

With so many natural and man-made disasters, James Bolton thought what he would see must be a hell on earth.

But… when James Bolton actually entered the capital and looked closely at the Ming capital, he found everything was completely different from what he had imagined.

This city was enormous, with countless pavilions and towers standing in rows. The streets were bustling, most passersby were well-dressed, and there was no sign of hunger on their faces—most looked content and at ease.

Where was there any sign of a dynasty’s end? At least by ancient standards, this was a paradise on earth.

James Bolton even began to doubt himself, for anyone standing here would find it hard to imagine that the Ming Dynasty would fall in just over a decade.

The people’s anger would burn everything here, and the iron cavalry of the Later Jin would sweep across the land.

After confirming with Henry Cooper several times that it was indeed the sixth year of Tianqi, James Bolton could only conclude: whether it was the foolish emperor Tianqi, or Wei Zhongxian, or those eloquent civil officials, at least they governed the capital very well. Within three hundred li, there were hardly any poor people to be seen.

But at this moment, James Bolton had no time to think about the future. The urgent task at hand was to save lives.

He, along with Edward Smith and Henry Cooper, hurried to the Eastern City Command Post.

The reason for choosing this place was that Charles Bolton had served here before.

And the commander of the Eastern City Command Post had some ties with the Zhang family. Killing Zhao Tianwang was a huge matter, and reporting it through the Eastern City Command Post was the best option.

Chapter Six: Requesting Merit

Unlike other government offices bustling with carriages and horses, the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s command post was deserted. Even those passing by mostly kept their heads down and hurried past, not daring to linger.

Therefore, even under the bright sky, there was a chilling atmosphere outside the command post.

A few officers stood at the gate, hands on their swords. When they saw people approaching, one of them recognized Edward Smith and Henry Cooper.