“This general, turn your dog eyes over here and take a good look!”

　　Old Butler sneered.

　　After speaking, he pointed at his own boat.

　　Samuel Kent turned his head in confusion, only to see that the boat was displaying lanterns, each bearing an official title. The first to enter his view were the five large characters for Vice Minister of War, which instantly made cold sweat break out on his forehead. Then, seeing another lantern with the title Right Censor-in-Chief, his legs went weak. When he saw the next one, Governor of Military Affairs of Jiliao, Baoding, and other regions, he suddenly straightened up...

　　“Please forgive me, sir!”

　　He took a step forward, dropped to his knees in front of Old Butler, and wailed.

　　“Are you still running or not?”

　　Fifty meters away, William Young was floating in the water, hugging that gourd, looking utterly bewildered.

　　He had, of course, also seen those lanterns.

　　These three, like three towering mountains, represented official ranks that could crush a fifth-rank commander into kneeling before an Old Butler. Each title represented a status: the N-level direct superior of this commander, and one of the most frequently mentioned names in the late Ming Dynasty.

　　Governor of Jiliao.

　　If he had saved the daughter of the Governor of Jiliao’s family...

　　The middle-aged man on the deck immediately gave him a look. William Young looked at him in confusion, and the man gently shook his head. William Young hesitated for a moment, but in the end didn’t dare take the risk. If he really ended up stabbing someone to death, this little favor would never be enough for a Governor of Jiliao to help him—helping him collect his corpse would be the best he could hope for. After all, favoritism depends on whether you have any value; if you do, helping you brings rewards, but for a beggar like him, he’s just the perfect example to show impartiality.

　　He hugged the gourd and, pushed by the current, quickly swam toward the opposite bank.

　　But Samuel Kent had no time to care about him anymore.

　　To him, the Governor of Jiliao was like heaven itself. Although he was a fifth-rank military officer and the latter was only a second-rank civil official, under the Ming system where civil officials ruled over the military, he was nothing but an ant. Not to mention the Governor of Jiliao—even when facing the Tianjin Defense Circuit Inspector, who was also a fifth-rank official like him, he had to grovel like a dog, let alone a Censor-in-Chief with the Imperial Sword, who could have him executed with a single word. Knowing he had offended someone he absolutely shouldn’t have, his survival instinct kicked in. To make up for frightening a noble, he immediately gathered his subordinates and, with great ceremony, protected the boat, personally standing guard at the cabin door with his sword.

　　Just like a loyal dog.

　　By this time, William Young had already swum to the opposite bank and quickly found a river bend, diving straight into the dense lotus marsh.

　　“What the hell is this?”

　　Lying in the shallow water among the lotuses, he stared in shock at his own body.

　　The old wound on his body, which had already rotted, now looked like a specimen soaked in formalin—ghastly white and nauseating, with the edges peeling off in large patches, drifting with the water. He reached out, pinched it, and carefully tugged. Then, with a sudden pull, the entire half-foot-long leaf-shaped scar peeled off, revealing tender new skin underneath. In the surrounding darkness, it was like watching sunburned beauties on the beach undo their swimsuits—the white and pink color reminded him of some actress seductively poking her own face on TV.

　　Clearly, the wound that had been festering with maggots was now healed.

　　He continued searching his body.

　　He’d had quite a few old injuries. This body must have been so wounded and weak that it couldn’t support itself, eventually rotting on the street waiting for someone’s pity—and as a runaway slave, he’d had the misfortune to run into his master again.

　　That’s why he was beaten in public.

　　And then beaten to death.

　　And then his body was taken over by him...

　　Uh, not “taken over”—it should be said that his soul granted the body new life, and a clearly abnormal new life at that.

　　His speed was obviously abnormal.

　　After all, running as fast as Liu Xiang on a whim was just too much—Liu Xiang was sprinting on a track in special shoes, while he was wearing a pair of worn-out straw sandals, darting through crowded streets like a startled rabbit.

　　His vision and hearing were also abnormal.

　　Even his nose was much more sensitive than before.

　　He poked at the wound on his face. That one hadn’t healed, but even after soaking in water, it wasn’t bleeding again, which was also abnormal. In other words, his recovery speed was still a bit faster than normal. Clearly, as someone who’d been inexplicably thrown here as a transmigrator, he’d still received a little “gift” from some behind-the-scenes manipulator. Even though the gift was pitifully small, like getting a lollipop after a supermarket shopping spree.

　　But...

　　A lollipop is still something!

　　In this era, without a bit of superpower, you probably wouldn’t survive ten days.

　　The late Ming was no good time.

　　Although he still didn’t know exactly what year it was, since it was an era when matchlock guns were widely equipped, it had to be at least the Wanli period. Whether it was early or late Wanli, he’d have to face the chaos of the late Ming.

　　War, famine, plague, and the devastating massacres of foreign invaders.

　　Without some kind of cheat, you really wouldn’t make it!