So by that time, how far do you think you’ll be from being executed at the border?

“Then why should I go with you?”

William Young said.

“Nonsense. In the end, you’re just a coward!”

James Grant sneered.

By now, under William Young’s escort, he had gradually reached the canal embankment. The soldiers didn’t dare approach, only putting on a show up ahead, while the old steward and Charles Howard exchanged a meaningful glance with William Young and quietly left. A few soldiers initially tried to stop them, but once the old steward revealed his identity, they immediately let them pass sensibly—after all, this matter had nothing to do with them.

“Coward?”

William Young smiled.

“Say whatever you like. You’re still a respectable official, so let me give you a word of advice: when you get there, rooting out the traitors is more important than anything else.”

He said.

With that, he tossed aside the sword in his hand, gave James Grant a hard shove forward, and, taking advantage of the momentum, dismounted backward. The moment he hit the ground, he spun around and sprinted at full speed, diving into the canal water in the blink of an eye, plunging beneath the surface and swimming forward as fast as he could. When he resurfaced, he was already dozens of meters from the shore, but James Grant still sat on his horse by the embankment. William Young gave him a friendly wave, then quickly swam to the opposite bank.

James Grant turned and left.

But now William Young had nowhere to go.

At least for now, Charles Howard didn’t dare take him along, because James Grant would definitely notify the checkpoints ahead to arrest him. He wasn’t easy to recognize, but Charles Howard’s boat was.

There was still the Hexiwu Customs ahead!

The only toll station on the North Canal, also heavily guarded, with no less than thirteen yamen offices, and a floating bridge blocking the canal, leaving only a single passage in the middle. As long as he was on the boat, Charles Howard couldn’t get past Hexiwu, and the unhealed wound on his face was like a calling card. As for the old steward, he wouldn’t get involved in this mess. If James Grant really became the governor of Liaodong, he’d only be a rank below their master, and as a steward, he wouldn’t dare cause such trouble for his master. Charles Howard likewise wouldn’t give up this business trip for William Young—that boatload of goods was worth far more than he was. And staying here wasn’t an option either; the Yang Village constable would soon be dispatched...

Uh, already dispatched.

A large group of soldiers appeared on the opposite bank, scrambling onto two rowboats.

William Young hurriedly made his escape.

But he didn’t actually go far.

He was a stranger to this area and couldn’t think of anywhere to go. He hid for a while in the nearby woods, watched as the soldiers half-heartedly searched and then left, and then returned to the canal bank.

He chewed on a blade of grass, lying in the reeds, gazing at the canal ahead.

Actually, he was a bit conflicted.

After all, traveling back to the Ming dynasty to fight the Jurchens felt as natural as traveling back to the war of resistance to fight the Japanese. And if he really went to Liaodong, maybe he could carve out a path for himself. James Grant still had a few good years left; serving as an officer under him, maybe even becoming a Mao Wenlong when the opportunity arose, wouldn’t be bad. But the problem was, that would mean putting up with the civil officials. The Ming dynasty’s principle of civil officials ruling over the military wouldn’t change. Just thinking about possibly having to be a bootlicker for those weirdos in the future was unbearable. What’s more, there might even be a chubby one someday. The Ming civil officials were far more wary of military men than of the Jurchens. Mixing in with the official army offered no prospects; whatever you wanted to do, you’d have to deal with a bunch of dead weight. On the other hand, living freely among the outlaws suited him better. As for the future, he’d just take it as it came. Anyway, the Ming dynasty could last another ten years before chaos began, and ten years was enough to do a lot.

In the end, if he wanted to fight the Japanese...

Uh, fight the Jurchens.

There would be plenty of chances for that in the future. Even if he just sat here and did nothing, the Jurchens would come knocking in ten years.

And that’s if nothing changed.

Who knew if his little butterfly wings might stir up some changes! After all, in this era of the Ming, any change would be better for the Chinese nation than repeating the original course.

“Time to go!”

He stood up, patted his butt, and said.

On the river ahead, Helen Howard was poling a small sampan, searching around.

Five minutes later.

“I knew you wouldn’t abandon me!”

William Young clung to the side of the boat like a mermaid from Pirates of the Caribbean, lifted his head, and said seriously.

The angle was perfect.

From this angle, he could see some sights he usually couldn’t, but unfortunately, Helen Howard immediately realized and quickly covered her chest, stepped back two paces, then jabbed him hard in the ribs with the long pole. William Young let out an exaggerated scream and tumbled into the little boat...

“Where are we going!”

He lay there and asked.

“Where else can we go? They’re all waiting to catch you up ahead. There’s no way we’ll get past Hexiwu. We’ll head downstream and return to Sanjiaodian.”

Helen Howard said irritably.

“We’re not going to the capital?”

William Young asked.

“You really want to go?”

Helen Howard said.

“Just tell me if there’s a way!”

William Young nodded firmly.

“There is. We go back to Sanjiaodian, then head north along the Feng River, skirt around the east of Wuqing, and this waterway will take us all the way to Majuqiao. Big boats can’t make it, but this little sampan can. Only thing is, you’ll have to row the whole way.”

Helen Howard said with a smile.