The two faced off, their eyes locked in an unblinking stare, neither daring to make the first move. The Cao army soldier had already drawn his blade, holding a spear in one hand and a saber in the other, prepared for both long and short range combat.

John Lewis suddenly bent down to pick up the spear of a fallen soldier. The two of them were like taut bowstrings—any slight movement from one would immediately trigger an attack from the other.

With a loud roar, the soldier hurled his spear fiercely at John Lewis, then charged forward, slashing down with his saber.

John Lewis’s move to pick up the spear was just a feint, meant to provoke the other into attacking first, like goading a wild beast to pounce. He pretended to reach for the spear, but instead rolled forward, dodging the airborne spear, then leapt up and stabbed at the opponent’s thigh from the side.

This Cao army soldier was a squad leader, standing eight feet tall, with a broad, powerful build—much more formidable than the soldier who had just been killed. When his saber struck only air, he immediately sensed danger.

But he didn’t panic. With a flash of his blade, he swung horizontally, striking John Lewis’s short sword and sending it flying from his hand, but was then tackled to the ground by John Lewis.

John Lewis pinned him down, pressing one of his hands with his knee, grabbing his ear, and forcing his head into the grass. The two struggled in the air with their free hands.

Time ticked by. Suddenly, John Lewis faintly heard the distant neigh of a warhorse, and his heart raced with anxiety. Glancing sideways, he saw that the man in white had already sat up, staring blankly at them from twenty paces away.

“You idiot, hurry up and help me!” John Lewis shouted anxiously.

In that moment of distraction, the Cao squad leader roared, grabbing John Lewis by the throat with a massive hand, nearly choking him into unconsciousness.

At the same time, John Lewis managed to grab an arrow from the ground and stabbed it fiercely into the man’s face. The squad leader screamed in agony, desperately trying to crush John Lewis’s throat. It became a contest to see who could kill the other first.

John Lewis, in a frenzy, jabbed arrow after arrow at the man’s eyes and forehead. The squad leader choked and gasped, his grip gradually loosening. Just then, someone shouted from dozens of steps away: “Over there!”

John Lewis leapt up from the squad leader’s body, grabbed the waterskin from the ground, snatched up the short sword, and staggered forward, running a few steps before jumping into the river. He swam across to the opposite bank and fled desperately into the depths of the forest.

The man in white, terrified, scrambled to his feet and ran after him. “Young master, wait for me!”

Dawn gradually broke, sunlight filtering into the woods. Hiding atop a large tree, John Lewis slowly opened his eyes, his throat aching, and couldn’t help but recall the events of the previous night.

The fight with the two Cao soldiers last night was the most thrilling encounter he’d had since arriving in this era—even more so than being driven to attack the Yellow Turban Army.

If the two Cao soldiers hadn’t underestimated him at first, he would never have been able to take on both at once—he would have been doomed. Thinking back now, he felt a lingering fear.

He then remembered the waterskin. John Lewis sat up abruptly, reached behind him for the waterskin hanging from the tree. He had nearly lost his life for this thing—he wondered if what was inside was really worth the risk.

He first took out the short sword, which had lost its scabbard, and simply wrapped it in a piece of cloth. Then he pulled out a heavy little square box from the waterskin. The box was carved from fine golden-thread nanmu wood, adorned with various floral patterns, exquisitely crafted. Michael Lewis immediately grew excited—could it be filled with gold or jewels?

He held his breath and carefully opened the box. Inside, it was lined with golden silk, tied in a knot, wrapping something within. Untying the silk, he found a bronze official seal, with a turtle-shaped knob, square and flat, about the size of a fist.

So it was an official seal. John Lewis felt a bit disappointed. He looked at the other items: a letter and a bamboo scroll—nothing of real value.

He picked up the bronze seal again, squinting at it in the sunlight for a moment, barely able to make out the seal script: “Seal of the Marquis of Jinping Pavilion.”

It turned out to be a marquis’s seal. He gasped, finally realizing that the people killed yesterday were of no ordinary status.

John Lewis couldn’t help but look down at a large rock beneath the tree, where the man in white sat, staring blankly at the rising sun.

It seemed he had been sitting there since before dawn, weighed down by heavy thoughts. But John Lewis could understand—after all, everyone who had traveled with him was dead; he must be deeply saddened.

John Lewis jumped down from the tree, walked slowly over, and placed the waterskin on a nearby rock. “Here, this is yours. It’s no use to me.”

The man in white sighed. With everyone dead, what meaning did it have for him now?

“Thank you, brother!”

The man in white took the letter and bamboo scroll from the waterskin. The letter was written on fine hemp paper. He opened it and read it again, a bitter smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. He had once sworn to his lord that he would bring Young Master Jing safely back to Xiangyang. Now that the young master was dead, how could he face his lord?

“So… who is the Marquis of Jinping Pavilion?” John Lewis asked curiously.

“He is my lord’s younger brother. My lord is the Governor of Jingzhou.” In gratitude for John Lewis saving him, the man in white did not hide the truth.

“Oh!”

Only then did John Lewis understand that the Liu Governor he spoke of was Liu Biao. But he was still puzzled—Liu Biao’s younger brother should be at least forty or fifty years old, yet the person in the ox cart was clearly a youth.

Chapter 5: When in Rome