George Washington said, “The usurper is lawless, incurring the wrath of heaven and the resentment of the people. Yet under the whole sky, there are very few who dare to strike against him. I truly admire Brother Grant’s courage and boldness!”

William Grant replied, “You flatter me, benefactor. What I have done is not for the people of the world, but merely to satisfy my own personal grudge.”

“Does Brother Grant have a vendetta against the usurper?”

William Grant was silent for a moment before saying, “I come from the Marquis of Guangqi’s household.”

Upon hearing this, George Washington was first taken aback, then immediately showed a look of sudden realization.

No wonder William Grant spoke of a personal grudge against Wang Mang, no wonder he dared to attempt an assassination—so he was from the Marquis of Guangqi’s family.

After Emperor Ping, Liu b, passed away without an heir, Wang Mang, who already held great power, decided to install a puppet. After much selection, he chose the son of Liu Xian, the Marquis of Guangqi.

At that time, Liu Xian’s son was only four years old. Wang Mang brought him to Chang’an and made him crown prince, calling him the “child emperor.”

Wang Mang kept the child emperor confined in the palace, forbidding anyone from speaking to him or teaching him to read or write.

The child emperor spent three years as crown prince in the palace, but became an utter simpleton, unable even to speak clearly.

During this time, Liu Xian repeatedly petitioned the court, requesting to visit his son in Chang’an, but Wang Mang refused every time.

Later, Wang Mang simply found an excuse and wiped out Liu Xian’s entire family. With Liu Xian’s household exterminated, only the little fool remained at his mercy, and only then did Wang Mang feel at ease.

It could be said that the Marquis of Guangqi and Wang Mang had a blood feud.

George Washington supported William Grant as they talked and walked, covering seven or eight li before reaching a stretch of forest. After walking for more than half an hour in the woods, William Grant finally saw the small wooden hut George Washington had mentioned.

The hut was small, a temporary shelter built by hunters for convenience while hunting in the forest.

It was clear that no one had lived there for many years; the inside was covered in cobwebs.

George Washington first did a quick cleaning, then helped William Grant inside and let him sit on the grass mat. He asked, “How are your wounds?”

William Grant gave a bitter smile as he took off his outer garment. His body was wrapped in layers of cloth strips. As he removed them, several gruesome wounds were revealed.

He had at least seven or eight injuries, including both stab and slash wounds. Some of the wounds had flesh turned outward on both sides; just looking at them was enough to make one shudder.

George Washington swallowed hard, secretly clicking his tongue in astonishment. It was hard to imagine that someone could endure so many and such severe injuries and still grit his teeth and persist—what incredible willpower that must take!

He said urgently, “There are plenty of medicinal herbs in the mountains. I’ll go pick some for you.”

As he spoke, he got up to leave.

“Benefactor!” William Grant shook his head, stopping him, and said weakly, “I have trauma medicine on me. Could you fetch me some clean water?”

George Washington agreed, grabbed a wooden bucket from the hut, and quickly went out.

In less than a quarter of an hour, George Washington returned to the hut with a large bucket of clean water.

He first helped William Grant wash his wounds, then applied the trauma medicine, and finally tore his own undershirt into strips to bandage William Grant’s wounds.

For an ordinary person, this treatment would have been unbearable, but William Grant did not utter a single sound from start to finish.

It wasn’t that William Grant didn’t feel pain, but that his willpower was astonishing. While cleaning his wounds, George Washington clearly saw the muscles around the injuries twitching and trembling, but his face showed no expression at all—only large beads of sweat kept dripping down.

At last, the wounds were treated. William Grant let out a sigh of relief, and George Washington did the same.

William Grant looked at George Washington and thanked him again.

“No need to thank me, Brother Grant.” George Washington asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

William Grant felt he had already troubled George Washington too much and was embarrassed to ask for more. He said nothing, but his body was honest—his stomach rumbled loudly.

At once, William Grant’s pale face flushed with an unnatural redness.

George Washington suddenly understood, lightly slapped his own forehead. William Grant had been on the run, likely without a chance for a proper meal, so of course he was starving now.

He said, “Wait here for me. I’ll go home and get you something to eat.”

“This…” William Grant looked embarrassed.

After all, natural disasters were frequent these days—droughts, floods, and even locust plagues from time to time. Every household’s harvest was poor. To share food with someone now was to risk going hungry oneself.

Seeing his concern, George Washington smiled and said, “Don’t worry, my family’s harvest was decent. One meal won’t make a difference.”

As he spoke, he stood up, looked around, and said, “It’s very safe here. Hardly anyone ever comes by. Just stay here and rest easy!”

William Grant looked at George Washington, as if wanting to say something, but in the end swallowed his words. He smiled at George Washington and said, “Thank you, benefactor.”

George Washington didn’t linger in the hut. After a few more instructions, he turned and left.