To be honest, David Bolton was able to run rampant for so many years largely because he rewarded and punished his servants and followers appropriately, and wasn’t harsh with them, so getting a share of the spoils wasn’t difficult.

The shopkeeper agreed, and in a moment brought over half a chicken. The man grabbed a flatbread in one hand and the chicken in the other, taking big bites, wolfing it all down. In no time, he had finished off even the leftovers on the table, then stood up and left with a satisfied smile.

The Foster Family was in the southwest part of the city, two ranks below The Thompson Residence in terms of status, but its master was the current Chief Constable, commanding over a hundred men—low in rank, but high in power.

“...Uncle Foster, back then my grandfather helped you become Chief Constable. You really ought to help us out. If you think the silver isn’t enough, I can scrape together a bit more.” In the sitting room, Alice Bennett stepped forward, gave a respectful bow, and spoke.

Chief Foster, about forty years old, was drinking tea at the time. He glanced over and saw the young woman before him—delicate in build, but with a certain indescribable grace in her every movement. He thought to himself, “No wonder she caught Mr. Bolton Jr.’s eye.”

Hearing this, a troubled look appeared on his resolute face as he replied, “No, no, it’s not about the silver. I really can’t do this.”

After refusing, his eyes couldn’t help but drift to the pile of gleaming silver, and he remembered Third Young Master Bolton’s threats. He shuddered. “You’d better leave now. Wife, see our guests out.”

He was greedy, but he wanted to live to spend his money. As a low-ranking Chief Constable, he couldn’t possibly withstand Third Young Master Bolton’s wrath. Besides, with his modest official post, he could make a hundred taels of silver a year—these two hundred taels weren’t worth the risk!

When Alice Bennett heard this, her face turned pale and her body trembled. John Harris quickly stepped forward to support her. Alice Bennett steadied herself and said, “Let’s go, then!”

With that, she didn’t spare Chief Foster another glance and turned to leave.

County Registrar’s Residence, The Young Residence

The county registrar was the official in charge of documents, often involved in confidential matters, and was actually the third most powerful person in the county. His status was naturally high, and his residence was on par with The Thompson Residence, with two stone lions standing guard at the entrance.

Alice Bennett and Mr. Harris approached and saw the main gate from afar, with a plaque above reading “The Young Residence”.

To the left of the gate was a small side door. After speaking with the doorman, a voice soon called out, “Please come in!”

Alice Bennett felt a chill in her heart as she entered. It was a large courtyard, the ground paved with polished blue bricks. Passing through two gates, there were corridors and pavilions.

Several maids, all well-dressed, bustled about, leading them into a small hall. Only then did they hear someone inside laugh and say, “So it’s Miss Bennett. Please, come in.”

The man was eight feet tall, dressed in a blue robe and black boots, with a dark complexion and an air of authority—it was the county registrar, Samuel Young. Alice Bennett was about to step forward and bow, but he quickly motioned for her not to. “Miss Bennett, there’s no need for formalities. Please, come in.”

Inside the small hall, they took their seats as host and guests. Samuel Young said, “Since your grandfather passed away, we haven’t seen each other in a long time. I’m truly ashamed. It’s a real pleasure to see you today.”

As he spoke, a maid brought tea. Samuel Young continued, “How are things at the temple these days?”

Alice Bennett replied, “Thank you for your concern, uncle. Things at the temple are still manageable.”

They chatted for a while. Samuel Young remained warm and friendly, but only talked about trivial matters. Alice Bennett endured for a bit, but finally couldn’t hold back. She stood up, bowed, and said, “Uncle, I actually came today to ask for your help.”

As soon as she said this, the hall fell silent. Samuel Young looked troubled, and actually stood up and cupped his hands to Alice Bennett, saying, “Niece, you must be talking about the matter of Lord Wright’s summons. If it were anything else, I could help, but with this, I truly am powerless...”

Hearing this, Alice Bennett’s face turned deathly pale, her head spinning and her vision darkening. She had to brace herself against the table.

Seeing Alice Bennett like this, Samuel Young looked pained and hesitated to speak, but then instructed his servants, “Bring a hundred taels of silver, and hire a carriage to send them out of the residence.”

Alice Bennett’s mind was buzzing, but she came to her senses and said to Samuel Young, “Thank you for your generosity, uncle.”

She then said to Mr. Harris, “Take the silver, but we won’t trouble you for the carriage.”

With that, she bowed and left, disappearing down the corridor in an instant.

At this moment, a woman emerged from behind the screen, frowning as she asked, “The county magistrate may outrank you, but why didn’t you agree? If you weren’t going to help, why give them a hundred taels of silver?”

Watching the two leave, Samuel Young’s face looked a bit gloomy. Hearing this, he scolded, “You’re just short-sighted!”

But she was his wife and the mother of his son, so after scolding her, he explained, “The county magistrate may outrank me in title, but he doesn’t hold real power. In terms of actual authority, I’m above him. But The Bolton Family has some connection to Lord Wright, and that can’t be ignored. If it were for official business, offending The Bolton Family would be one thing, but to sour relations over this Great Temple youngster isn’t worth it. That’s why I refused Alice Bennett’s request.”

“You’re right, husband, but then why give them a hundred taels of silver?”

Samuel Young’s eyes flickered as he said, “Charles Bennett did me a favor. I owe my position as registrar to his efforts, and I haven’t properly repaid him these past years. I can’t just do nothing.”

Seeing his wife unconvinced, he lowered his voice and added, “Charles Bennett was, after all, a disciple of Philip Green. Even though they’re distant now, there might still be some connection. It’s best not to burn all our bridges.”