Young Mr. Smith has always been true to his word. If he says he will wipe something out, then not even a single blade of grass will be left behind.

The two of them were filled with terror, but Lily—the young lady crouched on the ground—remained silent, not even lifting her head.

After a moment of silence, Young Mr. Smith put on a smile again, took out a purple-gold box from his robe, and said with a laugh, “This poor land of Anzhou has actually produced some talented people. There’s an old man named Edwin Goodwin who is quite skilled at alchemy. I ordered him to spend seven days and nights, using all his skills to refine this Nourishing Pill. The quality is quite good, and it’s just right to help you lay a foundation, Lily…”

“You all…”

It was only at this moment that the little Lily suddenly lifted her head.

Only then did everyone see that her face was already covered in tears, her eyes red, and her small hands tightly clutching the deathly pale Henry Foster lying on the ground. For the first time, she lost her composure and cried out, “You… please save Henry Foster brother…”

“Hm?”

At this cry, the old woman in black and the maid in green finally remembered Henry Foster lying on the ground, and their expressions changed slightly.

As for Young Mr. Smith, he frowned, looking displeased as he glanced at the ragged boy on the ground.

“And who is this little pest?”

Chapter 7: Never a Slave

Henry Foster lay there in a daze for a long time.

He felt as if he had entered an eternal darkness, his surroundings as cold as an ice cellar, so cold it was terrifying. Even his consciousness seemed to have been completely extinguished, falling forever into a deathly silence. Yet, in the instant his awareness was about to vanish, he seemed to see many existences. He seemed to see a land filled with immortals, all worshipping him, and then a battlefield, with countless flashes of blades and swords, mountains collapsing, the earth splitting, even the sky torn open with several huge holes, and endless immortal fire pouring down from beyond the heavens.

In his daze, he seemed to return to Niutou Village.

There, he saw the always-smiling, chubby village chief; saw Poor Bolton, dressed in a green robe with a serious face but always sneaking peeks at the widow Hua bathing; saw Walter Redman, waving a divination flag and telling fortunes, always spouting endless tales of immortals; saw the flamboyantly dressed widow Hua flirting with men everywhere; and saw Ruby, the little girl with two pigtails, always gnawing on unripe apricots, drooling all over herself…

His consciousness drifted in this near-extinction state for a long time, but he gradually began to feel warmth.

It was as if a faint warmth rose from his lower abdomen, slowly spreading throughout his body. This warmth drove away the cold around him and gradually pulled him out of the endless darkness, as the countless illusions faded bit by bit from his mind.

Just before he opened his eyes, he heard a soft sigh: “This wild brat really does have a tough life…”

When he opened his eyes, Henry Foster found himself lying on a large bed in a side room, covered with a thick quilt. The slightly apologetic face before him was that of the old woman in black. Beside her stood the frosty-faced maid in green. At the bedside, a small hand was clutching his own—it was the delighted Lily girl. A bit farther away, he could see a Daoist in green robes.

“Heh, it’s not that his life is tough, but that he’s lucky!”

The Daoist in green, seeing him awake, relaxed and sneered, “That old freak Edwin Goodwin spent seven days and nights, using who knows how many rare herbs to refine the Nourishing Pill, and it was just fed to him. Even a dead man could come back to life with that…”

From his tone, he actually sounded a bit jealous.

“This child saved the young lady, of course he’s lucky!”

The maid in green said coldly, giving the Daoist no face at all.

The Daoist dared not retort, only cupped his hands and said, “Since he’s awake, I’ll go report to the young master. It’s time to set out!”

“This… this old bastard…”

Still groggy, Henry Foster suddenly recognized the Daoist in green as he was about to leave.

Wasn’t this the old man who almost killed him with a single sleeve earlier?

A life-and-death grudge—how could he not be furious?

The Daoist in green nearly stumbled at this insult, his face turning ashen. If it were the young lady of the Qin family, or even the old woman in black or the maid in green cursing him, he could endure it. But after hearing the old woman in black talk about this boy’s background—a wild child from the countryside—where did he get the nerve to insult him like this? Instinctively, he wanted to lash out.

But seeing Lily leaning over the bed, and the old woman in black and the maid in green looking unfriendly, he swallowed his words, shot Henry Foster a cold glare, and left to report to Young Mr. Smith.

“Don’t worry, it was just a misunderstanding!”

The old woman in black pressed Henry Foster down and gently explained the situation to him.

Henry Foster listened, still dazed. So he was injured by his own people?

But then he thought of the centipede on his arm, and wondered—was he hurt by a beating, or was he set up?

“Go pay your respects to Young Master Smith first. The pill that saved your life was a gift from him!”

The maid in green reminded him expressionlessly, then took little Lily by the hand and prepared to leave the room.