Buddy was not at all used to having a saddle on its back. It kept trying to shake the thing off, but with a bit in its mouth and a dragon-head headdress on, the full set of tack bound it tightly, making it impossible to do any of its usual habitual movements. All it could do was nudge Edward Carter repeatedly with its head, hoping the boss would take pity and remove all this gear, restoring its freedom.

Edward Carter himself was in no position to help; at the general’s command, he had no choice but to get up and head to the Zuo Wuwei military camp. Charles Brooks gave Edward Carter the armor he used to wear. Although it was still a bit big, it was much better than the standard-issue armor. Every step he took, the whole thing rattled noisily, like a dog dragging a dumbbell, and it was incredibly awkward. Never mind the image—just the armor itself, not counting the helmet, weighed thirty jin. With a broadsword at his waist and a bow and arrows on his back, Edward Carter felt like a walking fortress. He thought, wearing this armor, never mind cutting down others—he’d be lucky not to get himself killed.

Charles Brooks kept apologizing, saying it was a loss of face to make his brother wear his old armor, but the army was rough and ready, so they’d have to make do. Once they got back to Chang’an, he promised to have a set of eighty-jin heavy armor made for Edward Carter. David Bolton and the others drooled with envy, thinking this kind of armor was worthy of the secretary’s status. After saying this, he gave Edward Carter’s armor ties a hard tug, squeezing out the last bit of air from his lungs. Edward Carter’s face turned red as he desperately loosened his belt, finally saving his own life. Once he’d caught his breath, he asked Charles Brooks, “I’m a civil official—why do I have to wear armor?”

“In the army, who talks about civil officials? Even if His Majesty were here, he’d have to put on armor and helmet. You want to get caned by the general? Go see him in your regular clothes, then.”

He’d heard Charles Brooks talk about being caned in the army before. Even with his strong build, ten strokes would leave him lying down for two days. Looking at his own skinny arms and legs, he figured they’d be broken for sure. Better to listen to advice and fill your belly—no matter how uncomfortable, it was better than getting caned. After walking a few steps upright, it didn’t feel so bad. It seemed that roads are made by people, and people are forced by circumstances.

After commiserating with Buddy for a while, David Bolton lifted him onto another gentle mare. Buddy wasn’t fully grown and couldn’t be ridden yet, so it was just getting used to the tack for future riding.

Along with Charles Brooks came a registrar to take over salt production from Edward Carter. General Cheng wouldn’t rest until he’d wrung every bit of use from the emperor’s orders. Seeing that it was still before noon, Charles Brooks began urging them to set out. Edward Carter borrowed ten strings of cash from him to give to the two women as thanks. Amid their weeping, he bid farewell to the logistics camp soldiers he’d lived with for over a month. Buddy carried the backpack, the plump mare carried Edward Carter, and they headed for the Lanzhou main camp.

Sixty li—not too far, not too close. Charles Brooks could make a round trip in an hour at full gallop, but now they could only trot. Even so, Edward Carter felt his insides were about to be shaken out.

The damned saddle was too hard, rubbing Edward Carter’s thighs until they felt like they were on fire. He carefully lifted himself up to minimize contact with the saddle. Charles Brooks kept riding ahead and falling back, showing off his superb horsemanship. Edward Carter missed his second-hand Santana terribly.

At last, the journey was over and the camp was in sight. Scouts and messengers rode back and forth in a constant stream. From time to time, deep, resonant horns sounded, and the ballistae on the watchtowers gleamed coldly. A huge command flag with the character “Cheng” fluttered high above, looking extremely imposing.

Charles Brooks led the way, reported their names, passed inspection, and only then did they enter the camp and head straight for the command tent.

Before meeting Old Cheng, all sorts of legends about the “Demon King” swirled in Edward Carter’s mind—fiery temper, cunning and devious. Which of these was his true nature?

Before Edward Carter could sort out his thoughts, hearty laughter rang out from the command tent. A man in his forties appeared at the entrance, his clear, deep gaze fixed on Edward Carter. “Good lad! So young, yet you’ve saved my army from disaster. A true son of a great man—your reputation is well deserved!”

Edward Carter lowered his head to avoid that blade-sharp gaze and bowed deeply. “This subordinate, Edward Carter, greets the general.”

“Good, good, I’m glad you’re here. I’d heard from Chou’er about your many talents and wasn’t sure I believed it, but seeing you today, you truly are extraordinary. My army has gained another outstanding talent—what a joy!”

So now he was a “worthy nephew,” and he could only accept this uncle, like it or not.

“I’ve enjoyed my friendship with Charles and have long wished to pay my respects, Uncle. But the matter of salt production concerned the army’s safety, so I dared not slack off. Only today could I come to see you. Please forgive my tardiness, Uncle.”

“Ha, ha! You’ve done great service with the salt, how could I blame you? I love nothing more than seeing young men achieve great things. You and Chou’er should encourage each other and make progress together. Come, let me have a good look at this young hero.”

Only then did Edward Carter get up from the ground and stand respectfully beside Charles Brooks, but Old Cheng grabbed him and led him into the command tent. Guards had already set out a table inside, with dishes still steaming. Not many—just four, three dishes and a soup! Was this already a Tang dynasty tradition? Seeing Edward Carter eyeing the food, Old Cheng assumed the young man was just hungry and didn’t think him rude—he only felt this lad was genuine and unpretentious, unfazed by his own martial aura, and liked him all the more.

“I hear you have a discerning palate—try the army food and see if it suits your taste?”