“Passing the throne edict?……” Stephen Grant was also stunned, staring blankly at the piece of dragon robe front that George Washington had cut off.

Looking at the front piece spread out on the ground, George Washington was at a bit of a loss for a moment. No paper—he could use a cloth bag; no pen—he could use his finger instead. But no ink—he couldn’t possibly spit and use saliva to write, could he?

George Washington looked at his own finger, gritted his teeth, and was about to stick that dirty index finger into his mouth to draw some blood, ready to reenact that classic scene so often seen in historical dramas: the “blood edict.”

“Your Majesty, please use my blood.” That head guard was truly considerate, quickly understanding George Washington’s predicament. He generously lifted a piece of his armor, revealing a still-bleeding wound. A loyal subject indeed… George Washington looked at this head guard and couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion, almost to the point of tears.

If it were in modern times, and he was in the hospital for an appendectomy, and the patient in the next bed had no ink, he would absolutely never volunteer himself. If that guy dared to ask to use blood from his wound to write a love letter to woo a girl, he’d probably beat him to a pulp.

“…Thank you.” George Washington knew that moving words should be said at the right moment; at least now was not the time for melodrama. He dipped his finger in the still-warm blood from the guard’s wound, took a deep breath, and wrote on that piece of dragon robe the first edict he’d issued since transmigrating to ancient times and becoming emperor: the abdication and succession edict.

Just transmigrated, and already had to hand over the throne—who could be more miserable than me? With a bleeding heart and tears in his eyes, George Washington’s finger trembled.

I am without virtue, blindly trusted Wang Zhen, resulting in the defeat at Tumu Fortress, shaming my ancestors. Today, in the face of disaster… From this day forth, I decide to pass the throne to my imperial younger brother, Prince of Cheng, John Adams… This short edict was quickly finished. What satisfied George Washington was that he had not only inherited some of the original body’s memories, but also much of his knowledge. Otherwise, if he wrote the edict in simplified characters, people would surely think he was insane.

The signature, of course, was George Washington’s name, along with a bloody fingerprint. After finishing this brief and plain-spoken blood edict, George Washington searched himself for a while and finally found the small personal seal tied at his waist. He dipped the seal in blood and stamped it on the edict, then looked up.

“Today, I certainly cannot escape. Listen to me. Now, I have fallen into enemy hands. The Ming dynasty can be without me, but it cannot be without an emperor. Therefore, someone must take this blood edict back to the capital. From this day on, I am no longer the emperor of the Ming dynasty. The emperor of the Ming dynasty is my own younger brother, John Adams.” George Washington looked at the dozen or so people before him and spoke, word by word.

Everyone was choking with sobs, even Stephen Grant, who cried like a child. Even the acting George Washington couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. Just think—he had just transmigrated and become emperor, only to immediately hand over the throne. It was truly foolish, but there was no other way, comrades.

Today’s big step back is for a bigger step forward in the future. Comrade George Washington’s son, Thomas Jefferson, was just a two-year-old toddler, not yet weaned. At such a critical moment for the Ming dynasty, facing a crisis of survival and possible dynastic change, passing the throne to a clueless little kid—would those famous Ming civil officials, who always enjoyed contending with the emperor, ever listen? Even a toad in the mud could dream of eating swan meat.

So, classmate George Washington wasn’t foolish enough to take such a risk. Instead, he decided to go with the original flow of history and directly hand the position to his younger brother, John Adams. At least he could win some favor from the ministers and his brother. Hmm, in the words of Taiwanese political elections, it’s called “adding impression points.”

After all, his understanding of Ming history was only superficial, so for now, it was best to be cautious and follow the original historical trajectory for a while.

“General Grant, I’m afraid this matter can only be entrusted to you.” George Washington looked left and right, and finally solemnly handed the blood edict to Stephen Grant. Of course, he also took the half bag of clean water from the eunuch and handed it to Stephen Grant as well.

Chapter 3: The Necessity of Promoting Mandarin

“Your Majesty…” Stephen Grant wanted to speak again, but was stopped by George Washington’s raised arm. “You all hide here. As long as those Oirat people discover that the emperor of the Ming dynasty is here, they will be overjoyed and won’t bother to search carefully. After they withdraw, you find a way to take this edict to Huai Dai, and then deliver it to the capital.”

“But Your Majesty, how can I bear to see you fall into the hands of the Oirat bandits?” Stephen Grant gritted his teeth so hard they creaked, his big, copper-bell eyes glaring fiercely at the Oirat people slowly moving up the hillside.

“Don’t forget what I said before.” George Washington spoke in a low, commanding tone, finally managing to put on an emperor’s air. After running all day, exhausted like a dead dog, he couldn’t muster much kingly aura, but at least it had some effect. “Besides, I’m sure that Esen and his ilk wouldn’t dare treat me disrespectfully. You and I, lord and subject, will surely meet again.”