Charles Bennett is the Uighur people's tutun, meaning "warrior captain," and can command a hundred Uighur cavalry.

Unfortunately, he only has authority during wartime; when there is no conflict, he still has to obey the tribal Grace Carter.

“How did you manage it?” Ethan Brooks looked at Sarah Miller and Emily Clark happily slicing the lamb leg, and felt cheerful as well.

It seemed this mother and daughter were craving roast lamb.

“On yesterday’s battlefield, I killed a Turk. Don’t look at me like that—it really was me who killed him, not just picking up a head the Tang soldiers left behind.

My bravery caught the eye of Samuel Carter, who led us against the Turks yesterday. He wants me to join his personal guard, so from now on, I won’t have to do chores like herding anymore.

I am now a subordinate of Samuel Carter! From now on, I can ignore Grace Bennett. Ethan Brooks, you could also become a subordinate of Samuel Carter.”

Ethan Brooks glanced at Grace Bennett’s son Matthew Carter, who was watching from a distance, and shook his head, saying, “I’m fine as I am. I’ll have my own plans in the future. But you, Charles Bennett, need to be careful. I’ve heard that Bisut is always dissatisfied with his father James Carter, and he might not be the next khan chosen by James Carter.”

Charles Bennett smiled and handed the onions from his pouch to Ethan Brooks, not answering the question about Samuel Carter. Since he had already pledged himself to Samuel Carter, he basically had no way back.

Ethan Brooks took the onions—two red onions, very precious, brought by a caravan from the Kingdom of Bolü far away, probably a reward from Samuel Carter to Charles Bennett.

Ethan Brooks lit the charcoal and evenly arranged the lamb skewers that Sarah Miller and Emily Clark had threaded onto red willow branches around the fire, waiting for them to cook.

All the lamb had been soaked in brine; as long as you sprinkled on cumin, which was abundant in the Western Regions, the flavor was basically guaranteed.

The charcoal fire, flickering in the wind, made the lamb skewers sizzle, and the aroma of cumin drifted with the breeze.

When Ethan Brooks saw the lamb skewers were almost done, he took two and handed them to Emily Clark and Sarah Miller to eat first.

A few herdsmen close to Charles Bennett also got a skewer each. There wasn’t much, just enough for a taste.

Emily Clark ate with total abandon, while Sarah Miller had no appetite, because Grace Bennett’s son Matthew Carter was approaching, drooling.

Sarah Miller was afraid Ethan Brooks would get into another conflict with this shameless youth. In the past, whenever their family had something tasty, Matthew Carter would shamelessly come over and demand some in his father’s name.

After handing a plump lamb skewer to Charles Bennett, Ethan Brooks sprinkled some more monkshood powder on the remaining skewers to enhance the flavor.

“Ethan Brooks, the Da Apo has ordered that herdsmen must show respect to Tengri. Offer your delicacies—the Da Apo needs them to make an offering to Tengri.”

When Matthew Carter said this, he was ready to run at any moment. He couldn’t beat either Charles Bennett or Ethan Brooks, and the only reason he hadn’t run yet was because his father Grace Bennett was within sight.

Charles Bennett held down Ethan Brooks, who was about to get up and beat Matthew Carter, and said, “A fledgling eagle will be mocked by crows and teased by sparrows. Ethan Brooks, just wait a bit longer. When you’ve fully grown into an eagle, you’ll find that neither crows nor sparrows are worth even spreading your wings for!”

Ethan Brooks sat with a gloomy face, didn’t get up, looked up at Matthew Carter’s purplish lips, and handed all the remaining lamb skewers to this patient already showing severe aconitine poisoning symptoms.

“If it’s not enough, come back for more later. Tengri loves the lamb I roast—it’s my honor. Please let the Da Apo also taste my cooking, and I hope everyone in your tent enjoys it.”

Seeing Ethan Brooks lower his head, Matthew Carter smugly said, “Of course my father will eat it—he always eats the most every time.

Ethan Brooks, my father said, as long as you behave, he won’t touch anyone in your tent.”

Ethan Brooks bent down, placed his hand on his chest, and saluted: “As you command.”

Watching Matthew Carter leave triumphantly with a big handful of roast lamb, Charles Bennett frowned and said, “You can’t just take this lying down, can you?”

Ethan Brooks hugged Emily Clark, whose eyes were brimming with tears, wiped them away for her, and put the lamb Sarah Miller had just skewered back around the charcoal, as if he hadn’t felt any humiliation at all, and said to Charles Bennett, “Do you have a chance to become Da Apo?

I mean, would Samuel Carter support you to become the Da Apo of our two hundred Uighur tents?”

Charles Bennett, who had long since stopped seeing Ethan Brooks as a child, shook his head.

“Grace Bennett is a famous warrior in our tribe. I’m no match for him in battle. Also, James Carter would never allow Samuel Carter to replace his own man with me.”

Ethan Brooks lowered his head and thought for a moment. Logically, Grace Bennett had eaten food laced with monkshood at least ten times. Since Matthew Carter was already showing cyanosis, Grace Bennett, who had eaten even more, should be showing even more severe poisoning symptoms. Yet, just the day before yesterday, this guy had participated in the strenuous activity of taming wild horses, and there was no sign that anything was wrong.