“Young Master Sullivan, let’s go!” Samuel Grant’s subordinates, Charles and George, said, “Do you want us to carry you back or what?”

These two would keep a constant watch on Chad Sullivan, giving him no chance to escape.

Chad Sullivan stretched his whole body, then continued walking toward home.

……

Yue State was in the southeast of Dayan, a hilly region with many mountains, though none very tall.

Despite the complex terrain, the roads and transportation were surprisingly good. Even the roads between villages were about four meters wide and fairly level, allowing three horses to ride side by side—far better than in ancient China.

After dawn, Chad Sullivan saw many farmers out working. Their clothing was similar to that of ancient China, but they seemed a bit healthier, taller, and sturdier.

Almost every village along the way had a sturdy stone fortress, with militia patrolling on top, knives at their waists, and some even carrying bows and arrows. This was quite unexpected. In most dynasties of ancient China, bows and knives were contraband, yet here they appeared openly in the villages. The martial spirit of this world far surpassed that of ancient China.

It wasn’t until noon the next day that Chad Sullivan finally arrived at his home village, Maple Leaf Village.

The entire village was nestled in a valley, with a population of over six hundred. There was also a stone fortress and more than twenty militiamen. Most villagers lived close together, with hundreds of houses crowded on both sides of the river. Only Chad Sullivan’s home stood alone, halfway up the mountain, isolated from the village.

That was because Chad Sullivan’s family were outsiders, having moved here from elsewhere just over a decade ago.

Such villages were very conservative and xenophobic. On top of that, Chad Sullivan’s parents didn’t interact with the villagers, so they had never really integrated.

Climbing halfway up the mountain, Chad Sullivan looked at the mud house before him—this was his home.

It was truly dilapidated, even worse than he remembered from three months ago.

The yard, once leveled by his father, was now overgrown with weeds. The mud walls, battered by wind and rain, had several holes, and the roof had no tiles, only thatch.

Such poverty was truly shocking—it couldn’t even keep out the wind and rain.

Before he reached the door, Chad Sullivan heard his mother’s sobs, his father’s violent coughing, and his younger brother’s cries of pain.

“Hurry to the The Foster Family and bring William home, go bring William home…” his father rasped, coughing as he spoke. His long-untreated injury had damaged his lungs, and his breathing sounded labored, likely due to a serious inflammation or even a pulmonary hematoma.

“Dad, I’ll go bring Brother home tomorrow,” his brother said.

His mother cried, “Old man, you’ve been coughing up blood and still can’t get out of bed. Edward’s leg bone is broken—how can he go? Tomorrow I’ll go to the The Foster Family. If they won’t let William go, I’ll bash my head against their gate and die there.”

“My William, so honest and kind, in a den of tigers and wolves like the The Foster Family, who knows how badly he’s being bullied. My son…” she sobbed, “I don’t even know if he’s getting enough to eat or staying warm.”

“My son has never suffered since he was little, never left our side. Who knows how much he’s suffering now.”

Hearing his mother’s cries, his brother couldn’t take it and said, “Mom, I’ll go make a pair of crutches right now. Tomorrow I’ll go to the The Foster Family and bring Brother home, even if it costs me my life.”

Hearing all this, Chad Sullivan felt a rush of heat and a wave of bitterness in his heart.

He rushed straight inside, knelt before his parents, and said in a trembling voice, “Father, Mother, your unfilial son has returned.”

His parents and brother were stunned at first, then overwhelmed with joy.

His mother immediately rushed over and hugged Chad Sullivan, crying loudly, “William, my William, you’re really back! I thought I’d never see you again. Am I dreaming?”

His father, so excited he tried to get out of bed, triggered a violent coughing fit, blood frothing at his lips.

His brother sat up abruptly, crying out in pain.

Chad Sullivan said, “It’s me, I’m back.”

His mother said, “My son, it’s good you’re back. We’ll never leave again. The The Foster Family are vicious—don’t go back there, all right?”

Chad Sullivan nodded hard. “Yes, I’ll never go to the The Foster Family again.”

“Good, good, that’s right, that’s right.” His mother wiped away her tears in joy.

His father also said happily, “My son has really grown up.”

These parents doted on Chad Sullivan so much that just saying he wouldn’t go to the The Foster Family was enough for them to think he’d matured.

Chad Sullivan quickly went to help his father sit up, focusing his mind and examining his father’s injuries.

Sure enough, they were internal injuries—his lungs and stomach were both damaged, especially his lungs, which were full of congestion. His ribs were also cracked, but after three months of healing, the fractures had mended, though very unevenly, with many bone spurs.

It showed just how ruthless the The Foster Family’s servants had been three months ago. His father’s internal injuries were so severe—if his brother hadn’t borrowed five gold coins to get a doctor, Chad Sullivan would never have seen his father again.