Edwin Harris rubbed the armrest of his chair with his fingers, and quickly guessed the purpose of this elder and the youth.

The day for entering the academy was approaching. They wanted him to write a letter of recommendation so the boy could enter the academy to practice martial arts. As long as he could stay in the academy for six months, he could secure a job at the yamen.

This Philip Clark's son was clearly not strong enough, otherwise they wouldn't have come to him for help.

But to use his connections for the The Clark Family, with whom he had no real relationship, seemed hardly worthwhile.

“Tell them that I am feeling unwell today and not fit to receive guests. Please ask them to leave.”

Edwin Harris made his decision, and the steward turned to leave upon hearing it.

At that moment, the float on the pond's surface dipped, Edwin Harris's eyes lit up, and with a flick of his right hand, a red carp was lifted out of the water.

“A carp, after all…”

A hint of surprise flashed in Edwin Harris's eyes. He called out to the steward, who had already walked out of the backyard: “Go to the gate and see what that The Clark Family child is doing right now. Observe his demeanor and actions, remember them all, and report back to me quickly.”

The steward hurried off and returned in less than three minutes.

“Master, that The Clark Family child is standing at the door, posture upright, expression very calm—neither angry nor nervous.”

At fifteen years old, to be left waiting outside with an elder for over a quarter of an hour and still remain calm, showing no anger at the slight—whether he was good at hiding his emotions or truly patient, this temperament far surpassed his peers.

Edwin Harris rose from his chair, walked back to his study, and wrote a note.

“Give this to them. Say that I am unwell and unable to receive guests, but I am aware of their request. They may take this note to see Instructor Foster at the academy.”

“Yes, Master.”

The steward took the note, but when he saw the writing on it, his pupils contracted slightly.

Edwin Harris noticed the steward’s surprised look and hinted, “Either don’t help at all, or if you do, make sure the favor is done thoroughly.”

“Rest assured, Master, I know what to say.” The steward understood his master's meaning.

At the gate of the The Harris Family.

The old woman held Nathaniel Clark's hand. Nathaniel Clark could feel his great-aunt’s anxiety; inside, she was far less calm than she appeared.

He understood that this Captain Harris probably didn’t have a deep friendship with his father.

Otherwise, his great-aunt wouldn’t have waited until now to ask for help.

Just as Nathaniel Clark was thinking that the other party might not help, the main gate of the The Harris Family slowly opened.

A middle-aged man dressed as a steward walked out quickly.

“Madam, I am truly sorry. When I heard that you and young master Clark had come, I was delighted and intended to greet you personally, but the master has been unwell lately, and the doctor has forbidden him from getting out of bed.”

As soon as the door opened, the steward sincerely expressed his apologies, then continued, “The master already knows why you have come, and he knows your son has talent for martial arts. The master is very excited, saying repeatedly that a tiger father has no dog son, and that Mr. Clark would be comforted in the afterlife. He especially instructed me to give this to Madam Clark.”

Hearing the steward’s words, the old woman took the note, and upon seeing the writing, was very moved. Nathaniel Clark also sighed inwardly—truly, those with wealth and power are clever in any era.

Just listen to how smoothly he spoke; anyone unaware of the truth would really think this Mr. Harris and his father had been the closest of friends.

And not only were the words pleasant, but the matter was handled openly and generously.

Nathaniel Clark had just glanced at the handwriting on the note.

“Xiao Ning is the son of my dear friend. Now that he has talent for martial arts, I hope Brother Foster will take special care of him. Your brother, Edwin Grant, is deeply grateful.”

After the old woman repeatedly bowed in thanks with Nathaniel Clark, they left. Back home, she told Nathaniel Clark to lie down and rest, and Nathaniel Clark truly had no strength left.

After eating a bowl of grass for energy, this trip had left him completely spent.

He watched as his great-aunt bent down to rummage under the clay stove for a while, finally coming out of the house with steady steps, holding a small item wrapped in red paper. Nathaniel Clark felt a bit emotional—she had only eaten half a bowl of grass, yet somehow still had the strength to walk.

Half-asleep, Nathaniel Clark smelled the aroma of rice.

When he opened his eyes, a bowl of steaming rice was on the table, and his great-aunt was licking the rice crust from the spatula by the stove.

Where did the rice come from?

In an instant, Nathaniel Clark understood—his great-aunt must have pawned her last bit of jewelry.

“Xiao Ning, you’re awake. Come eat.” Hearing movement behind her, his great-aunt put down the spatula. “I saw you sleeping soundly, so I ate first without waking you.”

“Okay.”

Nathaniel Clark didn’t say anything, sat at the table, picked up his bowl and chopsticks, and ate the fragrant white rice with a few stir-fried greens and salt—one bite of rice, one bite of greens.

Chapter 3: The Art of Drawing Circles

That night, Nathaniel Clark had a dream.

In the dream, he met that little Daoist boy from Sanqing Mountain.

At this moment, the little Daoist looked aggrieved, being scolded by an old Daoist.

“Two longevity fruits—an ordinary person who eats one can extend their life for ten thousand years. Eating a second won’t increase their lifespan further, but the energy of the longevity fruit will be stored in the body, growing stronger day by day. You have harmed this person.”