Brian Miller said anxiously, “Henry Sullivan, but can you really handle it alone if you go there? Matthew Clark is living right inside the county yamen, surrounded by many lackeys—some of them are truly skilled, and you can’t beat them.” He knew that although Henry Sullivan practiced martial arts, he had only learned a bit from Mr. Foster, and usually worked as a blacksmith with Mr. Bolton, which was why he was so strong. But when it came to a real fight, he might not be a match for those people.

Henry Sullivan said word by word, “I can see that if we can’t rescue Xiao Qing, my big brother might as well be dead. But my big brother, for my sake, would rather die than let me take action. Brian Miller, I have only this one big brother!”

Brian Miller felt a sting in his nose, knowing that things had come to this point and there was no other choice. They couldn’t go to the authorities at all, because here Mr. Clark was the highest authority, and of course Mr. Clark would help his own son. Brian Miller stopped trying to persuade him and said, “Then be careful, I’ll wait for you. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your big brother. But… aren’t you going to wait until night?”

Henry Sullivan shook his head. “It’s exactly because it’s daytime now that if I go to the yamen, they’ll be even less likely to expect it.”

Henry Sullivan stood up, gave Brian Miller a deep bow, then turned to look at his big brother inside the house. Without another word, he strode out of the courtyard.

After leaving the courtyard, Henry Sullivan first smeared stove ash on his face to blacken it, tore and dirtied his clothes, and disguised himself as a beggar. Though he was angry, he was by no means reckless or seeking death. For his big brother’s sake, he was determined to rescue Xiao Qing, but he didn’t want to throw his life away in the process.

When he arrived in front of the county yamen, Henry Sullivan couldn’t help but take a deep breath. Matthew Clark was the only son of Mr. Clark, and Mr. Clark, putting public duty above all else, had even moved his whole family into the yamen for convenience. These two, father and son, were utterly heartless, and living inside the yamen, they would surely have guards posted. Henry Sullivan had expected there to be guards, but he hadn’t thought there would even be imperial troops stationed in front of the yamen!

Henry Sullivan thought for a while, then detoured to the back courtyard of the yamen. After walking for quite some time, he finally reached the alley by the back gate. There were few people here; it was usually a passage for menial workers. Henry Sullivan was considering whether to climb the wall or force his way in when he suddenly heard someone behind him shout, “Beggar, make way.”

Henry Sullivan turned to look and saw an ox cart at the mouth of the alley, piled high with firewood. Henry Sullivan recognized the old man driving the cart as Mr. Thompson, who he knew always delivered firewood to the yamen. An idea flashed through his mind, and he lowered his head and stepped aside. Mr. Thompson didn’t recognize Henry Sullivan; seeing him make way, he flicked his whip and drove the cart into the alley. After going a short distance, he instinctively looked back, only to find the beggar had already disappeared. Mr. Thompson muttered, “That beggar sure moves fast.” He focused on driving the cart, not noticing that as the cart passed by, Henry Sullivan had rolled under it and, with his long arms, was now hanging beneath the ox cart.

At the end of the alley, Mr. Thompson knocked on the back door. Someone called out, “Mr. Thompson, is this firewood dry?” Mr. Thompson replied with a simple smile, “Mr. Parker, if it’s not dry, you don’t have to pay.” Mr. Parker laughed, “You’re honest. All right, I’ll keep your business going—bring more firewood tomorrow.” Mr. Thompson asked, “Why do you need so much? Planning to burn down the house?” Mr. Parker spat, “Can’t you say something nice? Some big shots from the capital have come here recently, and there are a lot of imperial troops, so we’re using more firewood. Right now, those people are drinking in the front hall. The commander leading them can really drink—I saw him down more than ten jin of wine myself.”

Hearing this, the image of Mr. Carter flashed through Henry Sullivan’s mind. As he was pondering, Mr. Parker said again, “Mr. Thompson, go collect your payment.” Mr. Thompson responded, and then there was the sound of many footsteps. Suddenly, Mr. Parker said, “Young master, what brings you here?”

When Henry Sullivan heard the words “young master,” his heart skipped a beat and he held his breath. He saw a pair of satin shoes appear not far in front of the cart and thought, could it be Matthew Clark? What is he doing in a place for menial workers?

Sure enough, Matthew Clark’s hoarse voice came, “Damn it, that useless commander from the palace is here, and my old man insists I keep him company. That guy’s nothing but a glutton and a drunk—he only just let me go, and I haven’t even had time to enjoy that little beauty I got today. Mr. Parker, how is she? Is she behaving in the woodshed?”

Henry Sullivan was overjoyed to learn Xiao Qing’s whereabouts. Looking out from under the cart, he saw that behind those satin shoes were more than a dozen other feet, and realized Matthew Clark had brought his men. He frowned deeply.

Mr. Parker replied, “Young master, she hit her head and refuses to eat. Starve her for a few days and she’ll listen.”

Matthew Clark cursed, “She doesn’t know what’s good for her. It’s her good fortune that I fancy her. If she pisses me off, after I’m done with her, I’ll send her to Mrs. Thompson.” Mrs. Thompson was the madam of the local brothel, and Matthew Clark was a regular there.

At this moment, someone said, “Young master, today we beat up William Sullivan. I heard that loser has a younger brother who’s good at fighting, called Henry Sullivan. I’m just afraid Henry Sullivan will come looking for trouble, so we’d better be careful.” The voice was sharp; Henry Sullivan recognized it as Eric Stone, the martial artist Matthew Clark had hired at a high price. He was known for wielding a chain spear, and his skills were outstanding in the county. The master who had taught Henry Sullivan martial arts, Mr. Foster, had once been defeated by Eric Stone, which was why he left Xihe. With this man present, Henry Sullivan dared not act rashly.