“What’s the point of standing guard here? We don’t know medicine, and with all these imperial physicians and the empresses attending to him, are we sons just supposed to watch as the demon who harmed the Emperor gets away? If he escapes into the mountains, it’ll be nearly impossible to find him again. If he returns to his lair, are we supposed to chase him all the way to Kunlun? Let’s go—I can’t swallow this anger. I can’t just sit here watching the Emperor suffer while the culprit escapes. The Prince can stay and handle state affairs; as for hunting down the demon, leave that to me!”

William Walker couldn’t care less about him. The Prince is the crown prince—there’s nothing he can do about that. But the throne, aside from inheritance, can still be seized. Once James Walker ascends, a single order could confine him at home for life. By then, all hope is lost. Now’s the chance to slip away under the pretense of hunting the demon. There are plenty of people outside willing to risk everything for fortune. Stirring things up in the camps at Tongzhou or Fengtai, he might just have a shot.

Stand guard here? Wait for that old man to die, and then James Walker can just call a guard to drag him aside?

“Brother, I told you, you’re not needed for this!”

James Walker shouted loudly, signaling to Henry Foster, meaning for him to take a stand—support me or him. But Henry Foster said nothing, because his son-in-law, the young idol, hadn’t spoken. Normally, Fourth Brother didn’t stand a chance; whether by seniority or legitimacy, it wasn’t his turn. Even if he tried to seize it by force, he didn’t yet have enough power due to his age. But if William Walker and The Prince started fighting for the throne, then Fourth Brother might have an opportunity.

James Walker shot him a fierce glare.

Meanwhile, William Walker and Charles Walker turned and left, faces full of feigned loyalty and filial piety.

James Walker then exchanged a glance with his wife’s cousin, Thomas King’s son Ethan Reed, another Grand Minister of the Imperial Guards. The latter nodded in understanding, meaning his father wouldn’t let these clowns interfere with the crown prince’s succession. Although Thomas King had fallen out of favor in recent years, his status as the top minister of the Kangxi era still stood. Who did William Walker have? Just Charles Walker’s grandfather Pearl. With Samuel King around, there was no way Matthew King could run wild!

And so, while Kangxi still lay on his sickbed fighting for his life, his sons had already drawn their knives over the throne.

After leaving the palace, William Walker immediately rallied loyal men under the banner of hunting down the demon. At the same time, Thomas King’s men were dispatched throughout Beijing overnight, and his old rival Pearl was not to be outdone. The two had been rivals for half a lifetime, and of course, they wouldn’t miss this chance to compete again. Even the princes and ministers in Beijing began to pick sides. Unlike in history, where the struggle among Kangxi’s sons was settled by the time he was dying, now all the wolf cubs had just had their fighting spirit deliberately stirred up by him. Originally, he was supposed to be the director, enjoying the fun of manipulating his toys from the sidelines. Who would have thought the director would suddenly be gone, leaving the actors to improvise on their own?

Thus, the great drama of the struggle for the throne began in haste.

And the one responsible for all this was, by dawn, already fast asleep in a small inn in Huolu County.

Eric Bennett wasn’t worried about his safety. He’d been racing all night, switching motorcycles twice, and after detouring around several cities, he’d been on the move for a full eight hours. It was only thanks to his youth and strength, plus the golden dragon in his hand seemed to have boosted his constitution a bit. Otherwise, he’d have been wrecked. Even so, he was nearly exhausted. But the result was a three-hundred-kilometer dash. With no telegraph or telephone, even the fastest “urgent dispatch” couldn’t get news from Beijing to here before nightfall…

Uh, the modern name for this place is Shijiazhuang.

Now, all he needed to do was sleep, eat, rest, recover his strength, and then race on at the same speed that night. As long as he could cover four hundred kilometers overnight, he could always stay ahead of any message sent from Beijing—just keep heading south until he reached the Yangtze River.

As for where to go after reaching the Yangtze, he hadn’t decided yet.

Anyway, as long as he could hide far from the capital, he’d be safe. There were no cameras in this era, and even if they tried to catch him with a portrait, it would be nearly impossible. Those artists would have to draw from witnesses’ memories, then carve a woodblock and print portraits like New Year pictures, and then try to pick him out from the vast sea of people…

Come on, this isn’t a TV drama.

Chapter 6: This Flourishing Age, As You Wished

Five days later, Hankou.

“What’s going on here?”

The number one wanted criminal in the Qing Empire—so notorious that the Ministry of Justice still hadn’t decided whether to execute him by slicing or beheading if caught—was fanning himself with a folding fan, dressed in a silk long robe, followed by a fair, delicate little maid. He pointed at a kneeling young woman by the roadside. The woman was sallow and thin, her expression blank, and beside her knelt a little girl with a stalk of straw stuck behind her neck.

“Refugees from famine. Her husband died, she can’t support herself, so she’s selling her child.”

The boatman beside him replied.

“Uh, but isn’t this the prosperous age of Kangxi? There’s famine?”

“Sir, you must be joking. There’s never a year without some place where people starve to death.”

“What happens to her after she sells her child?”

“She’ll become a brothel girl, a boat prostitute, or just find a place to jump into the river and end it all.”

“Uh, you’re really funny.”