David Bolton gave a deep smile. “Whether he can escape this predicament is hard to say. Even if there’s only the slightest chance, we must be on guard. Father, just by cutting off his way out this time, I’ve made him a mortal enemy. If he finds out that the incident ten years ago was connected to you, what do you think will happen?”

　　James Bolton was taken aback, his face gradually turning ashen.

　　Seeing this, David Bolton smiled coldly and said, “Father, the River God Banquet is certainly a dead end, but it’s not impossible to survive. For example, fleeing and going into hiding is a way out!”

　　“Besides, although the previous two rounds failed and almost everyone died, there were still a few who managed to survive by luck—just that none of the young ladies from the second round made it.”

　　“This Edward Clark might just have that kind of luck. If someone like him survives, we’ll never have a moment’s peace!”

　　These words were spoken calmly by David Bolton, and James Bolton found every sentence reasonable. He paced back and forth twice, then suddenly turned around. “What do you want to do?”

　　“Father, I don’t want to kill him, but I want to take some precautions!” David Bolton looked ahead, speaking in a low voice. “I want you to step in and have Chief Foster find some excuse to arrest him and keep him in jail for a few days.”

　　“First, to prevent him from escaping. Second, in the dark prison, anything can happen. We don’t want his life, but injuring him a bit is nothing. When he’s released and sent to the River God Banquet, with wounds on his body, those monsters will smell the blood—how could they let him go? That would solve everything.”

　　At this point, a flash of lightning lit up the courtyard, followed by a loud crash. Darkness returned, and only the heavy rain poured down.

　　“Fine, let’s do it this way. Take my name card.” James Bolton’s eyes lit up, a mix of surprise, delight, and a hint of wariness—this son of his was truly remarkable!

　　A simple ox cart moved forward in the rain, the driver in front, Edward Clark in the back, both wearing oilskin raincoats.

　　By now, the rain had lessened, but Edward Clark’s clothes were still wet, and he was deep in thought.

　　The conflict that afternoon had made him wary. Don’t be fooled by the apparent victory; in reality, he still had to compromise.

　　The Dayan Temple had already fallen into decline, and he wasn’t even a formal Taoist priest. In terms of both background and status, he was just a commoner. Strictly speaking, what happened that afternoon was already an act of defiance against authority.

　　The will of the people is as hard as iron, and the law is like a furnace. If things go wrong, it’s a confrontation with the regime. The other side could easily fabricate charges to escalate the conflict. Even if nothing else, the authorities could arrest him on any pretext. Should he resist or not?

　　If he resisted, even if he was in the right, he’d become the wrongdoer—attacking officials, defying the regime. If he didn’t resist, being arrested and killed would be all too easy. Even on Earth, people could die mysteriously in custody, let alone in this ancient society teetering on the edge of chaos!

　　Edward Clark needed an identity—one recognized by both the secular world and cultivators.

　　If he followed the secular path, trying to curry favor with high officials or someone like Third Young Master Bolton, who knows how much time it would take? Edward Clark didn’t have that kind of time to play their games.

　　Becoming a Taoist priest would suffice. In this world, temples were everywhere, with strict rules and special privileges. Even a basic Taoist priest was equivalent to a scholar in the Ming or Qing dynasties on Earth—carrying a sword, free to come and go, exempt from taxes, and not required to bow to officials.

　　Only after passing the Daoist examination and being granted a talisman could one be officially registered in the celestial records, become a formal priest, preside over temple ceremonies, and receive the protection of the gods. Otherwise, rituals and petitions would be ineffective.

　　This qualification was not easy to obtain—one had to master at least seven of the Thirteen Classics!

　　For the old Edward Clark, this was extremely difficult, but for his current self, it was not.

　　With this identity, he would have freedom to advance or retreat.

　　Thinking this, the ox cart arrived at Yun Cliff Mountain. The moon hung high in the sky like a jade plate. After paying the fare, Edward Clark walked toward Yun Cliff Mountain.

　　By the time he reached the top of the Dayan Temple, it was already midnight.

　　Below the mountain, the Xinshui River wound eastward like a jade belt, its rushing sound echoing through the quiet night, reaching all the way up to Yun Cliff Mountain.

　　The bright moonlight spilled over the river, the moon’s reflection shimmering in the water. One river reflected a thousand moons, the moonlight stretching for miles, like an unfolding scroll.

　　Edward Clark happened to glance back and see this scene, and couldn’t help but be stunned. Such beauty no longer existed on Earth in his previous life—it had all been ruined by pollution.

　　Entering the temple, Edward Clark saw that the lights were still on, indicating that Alice Bennett hadn’t gone to bed yet. Feeling a stir in his heart, he placed the meat and medicinal herbs in the kitchen and headed toward his junior sister’s room.

　　At the door, he knocked.

　　“Junior sister, are you still up? I’m back.” Edward Clark called to Alice Bennett inside.

　　“Senior brother, why are you back so late?” Alice Bennett hurried to open the door. The light of a green lamp illuminated her picturesque face, though she looked pale, and her clothes were neat—clearly, she had been waiting all along.

　　Seeing this, Edward Clark felt a wave of tenderness, but could only smile wryly. “Junior sister, how was your trip down the mountain this time? I went down to exchange for tiger bone, but it wasn’t peaceful. I ran into a young master who even had designs on you, so I taught him a lesson.”

　　As he spoke, he entered the room and sat at the table, recounting the events one by one.

　　Alice Bennett listened intently, her expression first brightening with joy, then dimming with concern. As he spoke, her emotions shifted with his words. In the lamplight, her beauty was striking, and her eyes, like rippling water, made it hard for him to control himself.

　　In his previous life on Earth, where could he have found such admiration, gentleness, and eyes that carried the hope of life itself?