Chris Lewis was a bit flustered, with countless urgent matters to attend to, each one pressing, and he didn't even know which to tackle first.

Suddenly, the sound of intense hoofbeats came from afar—the pursuers were coming, and judging by the sound, they were already several hundred paces away.

In this moment of crisis, Chris Lewis instead calmed down. He turned and ran to his warhorse, mustering all his strength to push the horse into a nearby mountain gully. The horse, weighing several hundred jin, was shoved down the deep ravine, and he also threw some debris from the ground down after it.

Chris Lewis rushed back to support Richard Scott, half-carrying him as he ran up the slope, where there was another mountain path.

The pursuers were already within dozens of paces, their horses galloping. Unexpectedly, a squad of cavalry also charged down the upper mountain path, cutting off his escape.

With pursuers on both the upper and lower mountain paths, there was no time left. Chris Lewis had no choice but to carry Richard Scott into a clump of bushes, lowering his head as much as possible. The waist-high shrubs just managed to conceal them, and Chris Lewis's heart pounded with anxiety.

The thunderous hoofbeats drew closer and closer. In an instant, a gust of wind swept past them, and they could smell the strong scent of bloodlust. A group of cavalry sped by, quickly fading into the distance.

Only after the cavalry had gone far did they slowly lift their heads. At this moment, Richard Scott let out a painful groan—his arrow wound had burst open, and blood was flowing again.

Chris Lewis hurriedly laid him down, placed his own left forearm in Richard Scott's mouth, drew his dagger, and with a grimace, cut out a large chunk of flesh along with the arrowhead.

Richard Scott let out a muffled cry of pain, nearly biting through Chris Lewis's arm. After gasping heavily a few times, he said in a weak voice, "I have golden wound medicine in my chest."

Chris Lewis was overjoyed. Enduring the pain in his arm, he fished out a packet of medicinal powder from Richard Scott's chest, thickly applied it to the wound, then took out a piece of brocade that had wrapped an official seal from his pouch to bandage the injury. Richard Scott's face was deathly pale, looking extremely weak.

After bandaging the wound, Chris Lewis pondered for a moment. He had no water or clean cloth at hand, and he had to leave immediately; otherwise, even if they weren't caught, Richard Scott would die from the poison.

Chris Lewis slowly helped Richard Scott up. Seeing how weak he was and how hard it was for him to walk, Chris Lewis simply carried him on his back, ran up the slope, and fled in the direction they had come from.

Richard Scott was over eight chi tall, with a robust build, making it very difficult for Chris Lewis to carry him. He had barely gone twenty paces when the sound of hoofbeats came from ahead, and someone shouted, "Richard Scott General, Lord Liu Bei is here! Where are you?"

Chris Lewis was overjoyed—Liu Bei had arrived! Richard Scott's spirits lifted as well; it sounded like Mi Fang's voice. He quickly whispered, "My lord has come."

Chapter 11: The Bewildering Words for Yu Jin

Chris Lewis quickened his pace and ran forward. In the darkness, he could vaguely see a squad of cavalry ahead. Suddenly, Chris Lewis realized something was wrong!

How could the other side call out their lord's name directly? That was highly disrespectful. Normally, "General Zhao, the lord is here!" would suffice. Adding "Liu Bei" was clearly unnecessary—these were not Liu Bei's men, but a ruse by Cao's army.

Chris Lewis abruptly stopped in his tracks, but in the darkness, someone ahead had already caught sight of his silhouette and shouted, "Who's there in front?"

Chris Lewis's face instantly turned pale—this was bad. His mind raced, and he quickly set Richard Scott down in the bushes. "Hide quickly!"

He turned and ran. Richard Scott, using the last of his strength, crawled into a clump of bushes. He saw the youth turn and run, as swift as a leopard, with the cavalry behind chasing like a gust of wind. "Stop!"

Richard Scott knew, of course, that this youth was trying to draw the pursuers away to save him. He sighed inwardly, "This youth is finished. What a pity!"

Chris Lewis had barely run seventy or eighty paces when an arrow whistled past, grazing his scalp. He stopped—if he kept running, he would surely die.

At that moment, dozens of cavalry charged up and surrounded Chris Lewis. The general Robert Evans arrived soon after. A cavalryman reported, "General Evans, it's a youth."

It was Chris Lewis's first time seeing Robert Evans. He wore a hawk-crested helmet and iron armor, his figure tall and robust, with deep-set eyes and a high nose, his gaze sharp as lightning, and he held a golden-backed tiger-tooth saber.

Robert Evans sized up the youth. Earlier, Chris Lewis had been behind Richard Scott, his face covered in blood and obscured by Richard Scott's body, so Robert Evans hadn't noticed him. The other cavalry were all Robert Evans's personal guards, watching the battle from afar and hadn't come forward.

More importantly, it was nighttime, and most of the blood on Chris Lewis's face had been washed away by sweat. For the moment, no one recognized Chris Lewis.

Robert Evans waved his saber, pressing it to Chris Lewis's throat, and barked sternly, "Who are you?"

Chris Lewis forced himself to stay calm, saluted unhurriedly, and said, "I am the nephew of Liu, Governor of Jingzhou, on my way to Xiangyang."

Robert Evans frowned. "Liu Biao's nephew?"

If he were Cao Cao's nephew, Robert Evans might show some respect, but Liu Biao's nephew meant nothing to him.

Still, Robert Evans was suspicious. How could Liu Biao's nephew be so tall and sturdy, with no scholarly air at all, and covered in blood and filth—he looked more like a Yellow Turban rebel.

Suddenly, he reached out, grabbed Chris Lewis's collar, yanked him forward, and glared fiercely at him. "Boy, you must be a fleeing Yellow Turban rebel!"