As soon as George Washington, whose fair and delicate appearance made it obvious at a glance that he was not a Mongolian, entered, the previously boisterous main tent instantly fell silent, as if someone had hit the power switch. Even Andrew Lee, who had just been laughing loudly, was momentarily stunned, his mouth opening and closing as if he had forgotten how to speak.

“May I ask why the Grand Preceptor summoned me here? Is there something important?” Seeing that everyone in the tent looked like a bunch of clay statues, George Washington had no choice but to speak first.

Andrew Lee finally snapped out of it, hurriedly tossed the food in his hand onto the table, stood up, was about to salute George Washington, but then thought better of it and sat back down, putting on airs as he said, “Someone, please bring His Majesty a seat.” His expression was excited, his gaze burning, looking at George Washington the way a Hong Kong kidnapper, starving for months and unable to get a ransom, would look upon suddenly seeing Richard Li wandering alone nearby.

Not understanding what Andrew Lee was muttering, George Washington couldn’t help but shiver. Damn it, even though I’m already your hostage, you’re at least a prime minister-level figure of a small country—could you please not look at me so blatantly?

As soon as George Washington entered the tent, Patrick Hill hurried to translate Andrew Lee’s words for him. George Washington didn’t bother with politeness—mainly because he didn’t know if he should be polite. After all, he’d been captured by this bastard Andrew Lee; if he acted too polite, what if these guys thought he was showing weakness? Besides, he was still an emperor—wouldn’t that be a disgrace to the nation?

Seeing George Washington sitting calmly and composedly at the table, as if this were his own palace hall, showing not the slightest awareness of being a captive, all the Oirat officers and nobles were taken aback. James Carter, standing nearby, also snapped out of it and carefully sized up George Washington. He had to admit, George Washington was indeed quite handsome—dignified, with rosy lips and white teeth, sword-like brows and starry eyes, exuding an aura of authority even without anger. Though he still looked very young, facing such a large group of self-proclaimed Yuan dynasty civil and military officials, he still seemed as if he were walking into his own home. Such courage—James Carter admitted he could not match it.

Little did he know that inside this emperor’s body was a shameless transmigrator. Knowing the course of history, George Washington was certain these people wouldn’t dare harm such a valuable hostage, which was why he could remain so at ease.

“Your Majesty, I wonder if you’ve been comfortable these past few days in my camp?” Andrew Lee asked with a smile, raising his wine cup toward George Washington.

“Not bad. There’s food and a place to sleep, so it’s been fairly pleasant. However, the food is a bit monotonous—nothing but mutton every day. I’m getting a little tired of it,” George Washington replied, rolling his eyes and showing no courtesy at all.

Patrick Hill’s expression froze instantly, his open mouth unable to utter a word. George Washington glared at Patrick Hill—well, hurry up and translate!

Patrick Hill lowered his voice and spoke quickly, “Your Majesty, isn’t this a bit…” Too arrogant, Your Majesty. Even though you’re the emperor, right now you’re a prisoner. Aren’t you afraid these barbarians will get angry and make you suffer?

George Washington was annoyed. His tiger—no, dragon—body trembled, and he glared at Patrick Hill again. “Translate exactly as I said.”

Chapter Thirteen: The Emperor’s Dignity!

Sweat instantly poured down Patrick Hill’s forehead, but gritting his teeth, he still translated George Washington’s words verbatim. Although some of the Mongol nobles understood a bit of Chinese, George Washington had spoken quietly and quickly, so they hadn’t caught the meaning. But once Patrick Hill translated, there was a commotion—several hot-tempered Oirat officers immediately jumped up in anger. This guy is way too arrogant! You’re a prisoner, and you still dare to pick and choose like a mountain bandit?

“All of you, sit down!” Andrew Lee was stunned for a moment, then his face darkened as he swept a glance at his subordinates and barked the order. The officers could only sit back down, disgruntled.

Andrew Lee stared intently at George Washington. “Your Majesty, you are my prisoner. Isn’t your attitude a bit disrespectful?”

“Grand Preceptor, you are mistaken. You asked about my food and lodging, and I answered truthfully—how could that be disrespectful? If I lied, wouldn’t that be deceiving you?” George Washington met Andrew Lee’s gaze without flinching, speaking each word slowly and firmly. “I am treating you with sincerity, Grand Preceptor. Do you not wish for that?”

Hearing this, Patrick Hill’s heart, which had been in his throat, instantly dropped back into his chest. He quickly translated George Washington’s words, and sure enough, after hearing them, Andrew Lee’s previously dark expression began to clear.

“Of course not. Since Your Majesty has mentioned it, please rest assured. From now on, in addition to a sheep every day, you will be provided with a cow every five days.” With Andrew Lee’s order, his subordinates could only accept it, albeit reluctantly.

At this moment, James Carter stood up with a cup of wine, his plump figure moving to George Washington’s table. Smiling, he said, “Your Majesty truly has courage. No wonder, even when surrounded by thousands of troops and facing blades and axes, you remained calm. Now, I truly believe it.”