Charles Clark didn’t say much this time. If Qin and Zhao could negotiate peace and stop fighting, then whether or not John Grant recommended him didn’t really matter.

The two of them talked all night without resting. Charles Clark really couldn’t understand how, despite his age, John Grant didn’t seem tired at all after staying up all night. Out of respect for his guest, Charles Clark also stayed awake the whole night. Throughout the night, John Grant discussed the war between Zhao and Qin with him. From their conversation, Charles Clark learned a lot. He had originally thought that before the Zhao king replaced him, Robert Lane and Henry White had fought to a draw.

But he hadn’t expected that the current Qin general wasn’t Henry White at all, but someone named William King. Charles Clark had never heard of this person in his previous life—could he be related to Stephen King? What shocked Charles Clark even more was that Robert Lane actually couldn’t defeat this “unknown nobody”; Robert Lane suffered repeated losses, losing territory and generals, and Zhao had already been forced to retreat dozens of miles.

This didn’t make sense—wasn’t General Robert Lane supposed to be a great fighter?

Frowning, Charles Clark found himself thinking the same thing as the Zhao king: why couldn’t Robert Lane defeat William King?

The old man John Grant hurriedly left Mafucheng. Before leaving, he glanced in the direction of Handan and said to Charles Clark, “If things don’t go well, I will dash myself to death at Hangu Pass. When that time comes, please become the general of Zhao, lead Zhao’s chariots to fight against Qin, and please remove a tile from Hangu Pass to be buried with me.”

Charles Clark was silent for a long time. Only after the old man’s carriage had disappeared without a trace did he turn and enter his room.

After traveling for more than ten days, when John Grant arrived at Shangdang Commandery, he heard astonishing news from the local officials: Qin had stopped attacking Zhao and had even retreated quite a bit, giving up some of the Zhao territory they had occupied. John Grant was overjoyed. The old man danced with happiness and laughed out loud, losing all composure. He sensed that the Qin people were inclined toward peace talks, so he didn’t stop to rest but headed straight for Tunliu, which had been occupied by the Qin.

When the driver brought the carriage to the gates of Tunliu, John Grant’s expression changed slightly. Outside the city stood many Qin soldiers, their faces solemn and their posture as straight as spears. Each one looked at John Grant with burning eyes, all staring at his head.

John Grant was very afraid.

He wasn’t afraid of death; he was afraid of these elite Qin soldiers. On the way, he had seen many Zhao soldiers, who stopped him to ask when they could go home. Most of them looked dejected and sad. But among the Qin soldiers, there was none of that. They seemed even more eager for war than their commanders. It was said that when William King ordered the soldiers to retreat, the Qin soldiers were extremely reluctant.

Looking at these soldiers, John Grant felt even more that peace talks were a good idea. He thought that even if reinforcements were called from other states, they might not be able to defeat the Qin. Maybe seeing those reinforcements would only make the Qin happier—great, more military merit to earn!

The Qin general was a young man, with somewhat dark skin and a gentle smile, but John Grant didn’t dare underestimate him. This young man’s rank was not low. He knew that Qin’s nobility all rose through military merit. The short sword at this seemingly kind young man’s waist—who knew how many heads it had claimed? The young man respectfully said, “Patrick Moore greets the Zhao envoy. The king has ordered us not to be rude to the Zhao envoy. Please follow me into the city to rest.”

John Grant was taken aback, but agreed.

Patrick Moore led him into the city, where Qin soldiers could be seen drilling everywhere, their shouts and battle cries deafening. John Grant kept a calm face and pretended not to notice. Patrick Moore brought him to a courtyard and said, “Our general is unwell and specifically instructed me to host you. Please rest for a day, and then set out for Xianyang. The king has already sent Howard Young to receive you; he is on his way.”

“How can I let Howard Young come to greet me in person?” John Grant finally lost his previous composure.

Patrick Moore said nothing more. After making arrangements for John Grant, he left.

John Grant stayed there for a night, and no one came to trouble him. Of course, William King did not come to see him either. The next day, Qin soldiers escorted him toward Xianyang. What he didn’t know was that at that moment, William King was in a nearby courtyard, raging furiously. William King was not tall, but had a big temper. He shouted, “What exactly does Howard Young want? He said we could attack Zhao, but now he wants us to retreat and treat that old Zhao man like this!”

“General, Howard Young must have his reasons. It’s also for defeating Zhao,” Patrick Moore advised in a low voice.

“He can just advise the king; why does he have to get involved in military affairs? How hard can it be to defeat Zhao? If Lord Moore came to help me, I could take Handan in four months!” William King said angrily, but he was helpless against Samuel Ford. The Qin king favored Samuel Ford greatly. Even Lord Moore had to avoid Samuel Ford’s sharpness—what could he do?

“Hmph, if things don’t work out, I’ll definitely go find Lord Moore and go with him to see the king, so that Howard Young can’t meddle in our military affairs anymore.”