There was a middle-aged man in the group named George White, who used to be a traveling accountant. Now, he appeared to be the leader of the caravan, but in reality, he didn’t even dare to fart in front of John Foster.

When the tax officers came to inspect, George White skillfully clutched his pouch full of copper coins and went up to deal with them.

As for the others, they simply stood by the roadside waiting.

Each of them was armed with knives and swords, but since the tax collectors had taken George White’s money, they naturally turned a blind eye.

William Thompson, wearing shackles and carrying a sword, stood by the roadside when he suddenly heard someone in the group mutter a curse under their breath.

“Discipline is in shambles. Just look at this and you’ll know how much copper and iron leaks out on a daily basis. The country’s affairs are ruined by these scoundrels…”

William Thompson glanced sideways and saw that it was, as expected, Thomas Reed speaking.

Thomas Reed was a man of about thirty, different from the likes of William Thompson and the other petty thieves; he was a former military officer and the second-in-command of the group.

This man clearly had some patriotic fervor, and this wasn’t the first time he had cursed the tax officers for their extortion along the way.

Even though he himself was smuggling contraband and bribing officials.

But Thomas Reed knew his limits and didn’t actually step forward to argue, only muttering his complaints to John Foster.

“Enough, if they hear you, it’ll only cause more trouble,” John Foster replied coolly.

Thomas Reed obeyed orders, but unlike David Green, he wasn’t one of John Foster’s trusted men. Hearing this, he just grinned and snorted disdainfully.

“We’re supposed to be afraid of these vermin?”

“Quiet…”

The last few times they’d been inspected, George White’s bribes had gone smoothly, but today there seemed to be a bit of trouble.

The lead tax officer, after checking the goods, stroked his bushy beard and walked over, scrutinizing the group.

“Is this really a merchant caravan?” He looked at William Thompson, then said, “Damn, why is there a prisoner?”

George White hurried after him and replied, “Yes, sir, I really am just a merchant trying to make a living. That kid has epilepsy, so we had to shackle him.”

He lied without batting an eye.

The bearded tax officer couldn’t be bothered to care, and looked at John Foster and the others, asking, “Why do you have so many guards?”

George White said, “It’s my first time heading north, I was nervous, so I brought a few extra men.”

William Thompson glanced over and saw that John Foster was, for once, putting on a humble act, preferring to keep a low profile rather than reveal his status.

And this was still south of the Yangtze, within Song territory—he was being overly cautious.

He couldn’t help but recall what Andrew Scott had said: “Even if we die up north, we’re not officials of the Song court.”

Over there, George White handed over another pouch full of copper coins. The bearded tax officer took it, eyed them suspiciously for a long while, and finally waved them through.

William Thompson walked with the group, feeling vaguely that something was off…

When they reached the ferry, they found three large riverboats and hired some laborers from the riverbank to load the six wagons and goods onto the boats.

John Foster, Thomas Reed, and David Green each took guards to oversee a boat: John Foster brought Andrew Scott and his family; Thomas Reed brought William Thompson, George White, Henry Clark, and others; David Green brought James Brooks and his men.

Before boarding, David Green took out a key and waved it in front of William Thompson.

“See this? It’s the key to your shackles.”

As he spoke, he tossed the key into the Yangtze River.

Then, grinning, he opened his hand in front of William Thompson—the key was still there.

“Why aren’t you scared?”

William Thompson was rather annoyed by people like David Green, but replied patiently, “I knew you wouldn’t really throw it away.”

“All right then,” David Green said. “Once we’re across the river, I’ll unlock your shackles. But sooner or later, I’ll manage to scare you.”

He waved and boarded one of the riverboats.

William Thompson shook his head slightly and followed Thomas Reed onto the boat behind.

There were all kinds of large boats on the Yangtze, some able to carry two thousand shi—over a hundred tons of cargo. The three boats they’d found weren’t quite that big, but could easily hold four horses, two wagons of goods, a dozen people, plus the laborers and boatmen.

The boats first drifted downstream with the current for a while, circled around a small islet in the river, and then began rowing toward the opposite bank.

William Thompson stood at the bow for a while, and was reminded of another poem by Li Bai.

“When the mountains end with the flat plains, the river flows into the vast wilderness.”

He suddenly frowned, stared at the bottom of the boat for a moment, then looked around.

Suddenly, there was a sharp “clang”—a sword scabbard hit the deck.

Because William Thompson was shackled, he couldn’t draw his sword directly, so every time he unsheathed it, he had to drop the scabbard.

With that sound, his sword was already at Henry Clark’s throat.

Henry Clark had been standing there half-asleep, and before he could react, William Thompson had drawn and thrust his sword in one smooth motion—the blade was already at his face.

“Wha… what… we’re all brothers here, what are you doing?”

“Unlock my shackles.”

“But… but my mother…”

“Your mother will be fine, but if you don’t unlock me, you’ll die right now.”

Henry Clark was terrified and stammered, “You’re not trying to escape, are you? If you run, I’m done for…”

“Cut the crap. Unlock them.”

…