Edward Clark didn’t say a word, suddenly lunged forward, and kicked Lucky hard.

With a muffled “thud,” Lucky let out a groan, was sent flying backward, and crashed to the ground.

Two more servants rushed forward, but Edward Clark formed his fingers into a sword and stabbed straight through one servant’s shoulder. Blood spurted out in a straight line like a chopstick.

Edward Clark dodged slightly, and the blood splattered onto the wall. He stepped forward again, using his palm as a blade. With another “thud,” a servant let out a miserable scream as his thigh snapped.

At this moment, Mr. Bolton's Assistant was stunned by the scene, not knowing how to react. Edward Clark saw this, sneered contemptuously, and slapped him hard.

Before Mr. Bolton's Assistant could even process what was happening, with a “bang,” half his teeth shattered, and his body was sent flying uncontrollably.

Instantly, everyone on the street was petrified—some craned their necks in shock, some stood frozen mid-bite with their flatbread, all staring wide-eyed as if under a spell, not daring to move.

Though it takes long to describe, only a minute had passed. David Bolton, who had been laughing, froze, his eyes wide with terror as he stared at Edward Clark.

He hadn’t expected Edward Clark to fight back, let alone with such force.

It took David Bolton a moment to recover, his face pale as he pointed and shrieked, “How dare you!”

Before he could finish, Edward Clark grabbed David Bolton’s neck with a vice-like grip, lifted him up, a cold smile curling at his lips as he slapped his face.

“Young Master Zhang, have you ever heard the saying, ‘When a commoner is enraged, blood will spill within ten steps’?” Edward Clark’s eyes narrowed, a green light—tempered by a century of struggle in the underworld—filling his pupils.

After a hundred years of struggle in the underworld, his mind was as tough as iron, and a murderous intent instantly arose.

David Bolton, who had been furious and struggling, saw those eerie green eyes and suddenly felt a chill run from his feet to his heart.

Suddenly, David Bolton realized—this man had less than a month to live. The most terrifying people are those with nothing to lose. If truly provoked, maybe Lord Wei wouldn’t be afraid, but as the son of a mere eighth-rank county deputy, he feared this man really would spill blood within ten steps!

That’s how this world is—the strong do as they please, the weak submit. It’s all too common.

At this thought, regret welled up in his heart.

Edward Clark was extremely sensitive to such changes in aura and immediately realized the other had softened. Though skilled in martial arts, he had not entered the immortal path and could not stand against the army or authorities. Now was not the time to kill, so even though he’d been ruthless with the servants, he’d only injured, not killed.

Beating someone and killing someone are two entirely different things.

He gave a cold laugh and said, “I have one month left, nothing to fear. If you dare try anything now, I’ll drag your whole family down with me. Get lost!”

With that, he let go and shoved hard. Seeing David Bolton stumble back a few steps, Edward Clark swept his gaze around, a flash of murderous intent in his heart, but suppressed it and strode away.

Chapter 7: Offering Advice

In the blink of an eye, rain began to fall, large drops pounding the eaves with a crackling sound.

David Bolton stood behind, speaking softly, “Father!”

“Mm, you’re here.” A middle-aged man was standing on the steps, watching the rain, speaking absentmindedly. This was the county’s eighth-rank deputy, James Bolton.

“Father, I’d like you to put in a word.”

“Hmm?” James Bolton still spoke absentmindedly.

“Father, this boy is no ordinary person!” David Bolton saw his father’s indifference, but didn’t think he was unaware—news of his humiliation that afternoon had already spread, and with four people injured in the household, how could the head of the family not know?

James Bolton was slightly startled by these words, turned and asked, “What did you say?”

David Bolton’s face was calm, thoughtful as he said, “Don’t get me wrong, Father. I can handle this bit of shame. I originally thought Edward Clark was just a brute, but today I realized I was wrong—he’s not to be underestimated.”

James Bolton smiled faintly and said, “What, you think he’s something special? Ten years ago, the Dayan Temple had some foundation, but now it’s fallen, with no support. Besides, he’s already on the list for the River God Banquet. No matter how heroic, he’s at a dead end. What use is his ability?”

“Father, it’s not just that. Listen to me. I’ve met many people, but the moment I saw him, I felt an oppressive aura. And when he left, his figure gave me a sense of dread.”

“Afterward, I asked Mr. Miller to check the servants’ injuries. All had damaged tendons and bones—even if they heal, they’ll never use their hands again. Ruthless, but not fatal—nothing that would draw too much attention.”

David Bolton continued, “With such martial skill, even Mr. Miller might not be able to suppress him. He’s only fifteen… Fifteen, and already this skilled—what will he be like in the future?”

“What’s even scarier is that at fifteen, with such skill, he could easily spill blood within ten steps, but he’s so precise in his actions!” David Bolton’s eyes darkened as he said, “Father, do you think someone like this is ordinary?”

James Bolton was startled by his son’s heavy tone, set aside his underestimation, and after a long pause said, “You mean he might survive the River God Banquet?”