"That actually makes sense. You sure have a lot of crafty ideas." Brian Smith seemed to be tempted.

Just as they reached the entrance of Qingshan Town, someone called out from afar, "Young master, young master, what are you doing here?"

"It's Uncle Mu, hello." Charles Carter said, introducing him to Brian Smith, "This is our Tang family's second steward, John Carter. He's been out collecting debts these past few days. He probably doesn't know about my situation yet, so please, Brother Smith, go easy on me and give me some face."

Actually, Charles Carter understood. John Carter was definitely sent by his mother. In these times, you can pull strings for just about anything.

If he handled things well with Brian Smith, at least the journey would be more comfortable. But this couldn't be done openly—if the royal family found out, it could cost him his life. So, he had to deliberately come up with an excuse.

"So it's John Carter. How much did you collect this time?" Brian Smith's question was a bit loaded, as if hinting at something.

"Not much, just a few hundred taels of gold. Also took a batch of wild ginseng kings as collateral." John Carter said, tugging at a large hemp sack slung over his shoulder.

"Uncle Mu, I'm heading out on a long trip and left in a hurry, so I forgot to bring travel money. Let me use this money and the wild ginseng for now. Just tell my father when you get back." Charles Carter said.

"This... so much, won't the marquis be upset?" John Carter played his part well, hesitating in perfect sync. No wonder he was the Tang family's second steward—an old fox indeed.

"What's there to be afraid of? The Tang family fortune will be mine sooner or later. Think of it as me borrowing it in advance. Just put it on the books, and I'll pay it back when the money is divided." Charles Carter said domineeringly, grabbing the large hemp sack off John Carter's back.

"Sigh... well, fine, just treat it as a loan. But you'd better leave me a written note, just in case the master doesn't believe me. I can't take the blame." John Carter said anxiously.

"Fine, fine, I'll leave a note. Seriously, you still don't trust me? Where are your eyes growing?" Charles Carter muttered, then wrote the note. John Carter took the note and left.

"Brother Smith, I don't really need this money right now anyway. I'll leave it with you. We'll use it for food and drink on the road. But could you leave me half of the wild ginseng? It'll help my injuries heal faster, right?" Charles Carter said.

"In that case, I'll keep it safe for you for now. Of course, it's only fair that we use your money for food and drink on the road. There are twelve wild ginseng roots here—I'll give you three." Brian Smith rummaged through the sack and tossed Charles Carter three thick wild ginseng roots, keeping the other nine for himself without hesitation.

Charles Carter understood that Brian Smith knew the value. These wild ginseng kings were at least thirty years old. They were the Tang family's foundation and a great tonic for martial artists. Regular use could even help with breakthroughs.

Maybe Brian Smith had been holding back for too long, because after dinner he took Charles Carter to Yihong Courtyard—which, of course, was an ancient brothel.

Inside, it was truly a dazzling scene. Over a dozen beautiful women lined up for you to pick from. Soon, Brian Smith chose one, grabbed her, and hurried upstairs. As for Charles Carter, he used an acupoint-sealing technique on him and tossed him into a corner of the room.

Brian Smith wasn't stupid—even when visiting a brothel, he didn't forget to bring Charles Carter along, and kept him within sight. Charles Carter suffered for it: while Brian Smith and the woman rolled around on the bed, Charles Carter could only stare helplessly, his own body already aroused with nowhere to release.

Frustrated, he simply closed his eyes and began practicing the Jiutian Haoshi Technique. As the spiritual energy of heaven and earth flowed in, Charles Carter's mind gradually calmed.

Moreover, Charles Carter was shocked to discover that cultivating while aroused but not releasing seemed to speed up his progress significantly.

Luckily, his hands could still move, so Charles Carter took out a wild ginseng king and gnawed on it like a sweet potato. Brian Smith wasn't worried about Charles Carter running away—he simply couldn't.

Unfortunately, this couldn't be rushed. The body of this Charles Carter in the Dayu Dynasty was too weak. He'd have to find other ways to quickly improve his strength.

Otherwise, at this rate, he might not even reach the first level of Qi Refining by the time they got to Eshan. That would be useless—he'd probably be worn out as soon as he hit the battlefield.

That evening, they had dinner in the main hall of Yihong Courtyard. After just two small cups of wine, someone outside suddenly shouted, "The Poetry King is here!"

Immediately, the hall erupted. All the guests craned their necks to look at the entrance. Soon, a middle-aged man in white strolled in, waving a paper fan, exuding a bit of Tang Bohu's flair. Even the girls and courtesans of Yihong Courtyard were drawn out of their rooms, leaning over the wooden railings to watch.

"The Poetry King, Brother Smith, have you heard of him?" Charles Carter asked.

"Of course, he's very famous in our Dayu Dynasty. Legend has it that once, during a poetry contest, he drank ten cups of wine while writing poetry, one after another.

After ten cups, he produced ten poems. Famous works like 'Gulan Poem' and 'Butterfly Loves Flowers' are widely sung and celebrated.

He was even once invited by the Seventh Prince to compose poetry in the palace, delighting the imperial concubines and palace maids.

They say, when the Poetry King Li Bei appears, the whole street is packed with people." Brian Smith seemed to be a bit of a fan himself.