“And also, the person who lent the money is the leader of the Black Scarf Society in this county, David Bolton. Although he’s just a local thug, he has more than a dozen men under him, and it’s said he’s even taken lives. When your father was around, he didn’t dare do anything to you, but now, you need to be careful.”

  “Uncle Foster, I understand.”

  All this concern, Edward Jr. Sutton understood in his heart, but as for the last sentence, he didn’t take it to heart. His gaze shifted, and suddenly he had an idea, summoning half a piece of sandalwood hairpin.

  “Four Books and Five Classics Level 3 (1237/3000)”

  “Su-style Boxing Level 2 (1758/2000)”

  Edward Jr. Sutton remained calm, looking at Henry Foster. Although he knew this was just a manifestation of his own mind, appearing in the form he most recognized, when the time came, he still had to check—could others see it or not!

  Henry Foster saw that Edward Jr. Sutton didn’t seem to be listening, and earnestly advised, “Don’t underestimate thugs. When Great Zheng was founded, the counties were swept clean, but this man has killed and still survives to this day. It’s partly because he keeps a low profile, but also because he has deep connections in the county. He’s not someone you can easily offend.”

  “I understand.” Edward Jr. Sutton replied, watching Henry Foster’s reaction... there was nothing unusual!

  This confirmed a previous worry: only he could see it, so there was no fear of secrets being leaked, and he could use it freely in any situation.

  “That’s very good.”

  A trace of coldness flashed in his eyes, and Edward Jr. Sutton gave a slight, cold smile. If the inheritance of this life was half a sandalwood hairpin, then the inheritance of his previous life was Su-style boxing.

  This unknown boxing style had a simple origin. His ancestors had once been members of the Qi family army, killed bandits on the battlefield, and after returning home, became deputy centurions—a hereditary position, passed down through generations. Over a hundred years, it had absorbed the essence of many schools and was refined to perfection.

  After entering the Qing dynasty, although there were no more military posts, the family’s martial arts were not abandoned. Due to the Qing’s ban on weapons, it was transformed from weapon techniques to boxing, but its essence was still combat.

  In this generation, he was the one who practiced it seriously. He didn’t know why it was only level 2—perhaps his body was holding him back—but he wasn’t afraid of a few thugs.

  After bidding farewell to Henry Foster, he returned home. The main room, once his father’s, was now a study. Though the furniture was old, the arrangement was somewhat elegant. By the south window was a small row of bookshelves, a wooden couch took up half the room, neatly stacked with two blue cloth quilts, and on the wooden desk were ink, inkstone, paper, and brushes.

  Edward Jr. Sutton sat on a stool by the couch, lost in thought, looking around.

  “Though the Su family has fallen, we were once a prominent household. If they really wanted to collect the debt, wouldn’t taking this house be better? It’s worth at least thirty to fifty taels of silver.”

  “Yet they’re only after the grave field—there must be some hidden motive!”

  He sat in a daze for a while. As dusk approached, he thought for a moment, stuffed two cold meat buns into his mouth, was about to leave, then grabbed some joss paper and yellow paper, and headed toward the graveyard.

  The graveyard was outside the city.

  By this time, the city gates were already closed. Fortunately, in this so-called county town, the population was small—by industrial standards, it was just a small town. With fewer people, there was less petty crime, and in peaceful times, the city walls were poorly guarded.

  Edward Jr. Sutton was familiar with the terrain since childhood. He turned and reached a section of the city wall, where he saw a tree. According to government regulations, all trees near the wall should have been cut down, but no one cared. He climbed the tree, jumped onto the wall, and went over.

  The Su family graveyard was a small riverside grove east of the county. The February snow had not yet melted, and the ground was covered with dead grass. Edward Jr. Sutton trudged through, sometimes stepping high, sometimes low, crossed a field, and saw a few trees.

  Edward Jr. Sutton arrived and saw several mounds—graves. The old ones were surrounded by a ring of stone, while the new ones had only a simple stone tablet.

  “This is the ancestral grave of the Su family.” Edward Jr. Sutton was generally skeptical about feng shui, but looking at the row of weathered stone tablets, he said nothing. He squatted down, took out the joss paper and yellow paper, and lit them—a gesture of filial piety. No matter what, he had been reborn into the Su family bloodline, and this basic respect was necessary.

  But as soon as the fire started, it ignited the dead grass. Edward Jr. Sutton suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the oldest ancestral grave surrounded by stone—this was the ancestor of the Linhua County branch. When the Great Wei was ending, the ancestor moved here, married, and had children, followed by his grandfather and father.

  It was said that the family had once been prosperous, hence the stone enclosure. But now, underneath, a dark hole had been dug, covered by grass and snow, unnoticed until the paper was burned. Looking closely, there were even scattered fragments of bone.

  “Someone really sabotaged my ancestral grave’s feng shui!” At first glance, Edward Jr. Sutton was shocked. To be honest, having just awakened, he didn’t feel much for relatives long gone, but at this moment, a wave of dizziness hit him, and memories and emotions from before awakening surged in his heart, coalescing into an indescribable fury, and then a cold calm after the rage...

  Edward Jr. Sutton’s expression suddenly turned cold.

  Originally, although there were mysterious people watching him, he was not strong enough. Even if he passed the county exam, he could only protect himself—revenge would have to wait until he became a scholar!

  According to Edward Jr. Sutton’s plan, he was going to endure humiliation and bide his time. But now, grave robbing was a line-crossing act in ancient times—it meant the other side wasn’t planning to let things go, and would surely have more schemes to seize his property and even take his life. Who would let a young enemy grow up?

  They weren’t planning to let him live!