David Carter clasped his fists and declared passionately, “Where there is righteousness, I will press forward without hesitation!”

Sure enough, he turned and hurried off to the imperial tent. Richard Bolton was overjoyed, his face breaking into a wide smile, the wrinkles unfolding. He didn’t need you all—there were half the people in the capital willing to work for him!

He shot a sidelong glance at Stephen Mason, then walked away humming a little tune.

Stephen Mason watched his departing figure, spat in contempt, and anxiously said, “Grand Secretary Grant, if we let Richard Bolton run wild, something is bound to go wrong!”

Samuel Grant gave a wry smile. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? David Carter is someone Grand Secretary Young has recently promoted. Out of gratitude, he’s willing to step forward. And there’s also Marquis of Shouning acting as a go-between. Whether it succeeds or not, he’s willing to take the gamble. How could you or I possibly stop him?”

Hearing this, Stephen Mason was left speechless.

Although he was a trusted aide of James Young, he couldn’t claim that James Young listened to him in everything. It was just that David Carter was using such underhanded means—if anything went wrong and the new emperor was angered, wouldn’t it all backfire?

Let’s hope Charles Brooks doesn’t see through it—heaven help us!

Stephen Mason silently prayed for divine intervention, but unfortunately, though the plan was good, it failed at the very first step.

David Carter ran into Henry Foster, who happened to know a bit about the process of the Grand Rites debate. He was aware that the court officials had indeed played tricks: on the surface, they agreed to welcome the emperor into the capital with the rites due a Son of Heaven, but secretly, they had Charles Brooks enter through the Dong’an Gate.

Henry Foster didn’t quite believe that such a clumsy scheme was devised by James Young.

Now, seeing that Stephen Mason hadn’t come himself but had sent this David Carter instead, he realized he’d found the real culprit—and one who had walked right into his net. Not to take advantage of this would be a waste.

Henry Foster realized this was the key to breaking the deadlock—maybe he could get Charles Brooks into the palace in one go! He kept a straight face and asked, “Lord Carter, is this the intention of your Ministry of Rites?”

“That’s right!”

David Carter replied with a smile, “Reader Foster, here’s the situation: Minister Mason was ordered to receive His Highness, and we, his colleagues at the Ministry of Rites in the capital, have thoroughly reviewed the historical records, carefully examined all previous enthronement ceremonies, and racked our brains to draft this process for the enthronement ceremony... Please rest assured, Your Highness, there will absolutely be no mistakes.”

Henry Foster seemed to ponder for a while before saying, “Since Lord Carter says so, I naturally wouldn’t doubt it. But the ceremony is complicated, and I’m afraid I might miss something important when I relay it—I’m not very eloquent. Lord Carter, could you write it down for me? I’ll hand it directly to His Highness later.”

He could silence Stephen Mason, so his eloquence really wasn’t great. But David Carter didn’t know about Henry Foster’s track record; he just thought the request was reasonable. Still, writing it down—wouldn’t that leave evidence? As David Carter hesitated, Henry Foster had already handed him paper and brush, saying, “A good memory is no match for a bad pen. Sorry to trouble you, Lord Carter.”

David Carter felt something was off—this wasn’t how the script was supposed to go... How could he leave a written record?

“Lord Carter, I just want to show His Highness so he can get the general idea, it’s nothing serious. Or is it that you can’t remember it either?”

David Carter was left speechless and could only comfort himself: just a child, nothing to worry about.

He picked up the brush and, in elegant official script, quickly wrote it out. In less than a quarter of an hour, he was done.

Henry Foster looked it over and couldn’t help but clap his hands. “Your calligraphy is truly excellent—worthy of a master! Even the two Wangs are no better! By the way, Lord Carter, since this is the Ministry of Rites’ intention, why isn’t there the ministry’s official seal?”

David Carter shook his head—he’d come in a hurry, where would he get the official seal?

“These will all be formally issued to the various ministries, I guarantee there won’t be any mistakes,” David Carter said, a bit guilty.

“Oh!” Henry Foster nodded, smiling apologetically. “Please don’t mind me, Lord Carter. I’m from Anlu, a small place, not very worldly, and I’m just afraid of making mistakes. If there’s no official seal, your personal seal will do! If you don’t stamp it, I really can’t report to His Highness. If there are no rules and anyone can just hand in a note for His Highness to follow, wouldn’t that be chaos?”

Henry Foster was all seriousness, making David Carter even more uncomfortable.

Of course, he knew that deceiving the new emperor would definitely come back to haunt him. But this was his job—otherwise, how could he have been promoted from Guozijian Sacrificial Wine to Vice Minister of Rites?

In short, he was the assassin in this play, the one who had to risk everything.

If he failed, his fate would be even worse.

Truly a dilemma!

What should have been a simple matter had turned into such a mess—David Carter’s head ached. If he didn’t agree, the whole plan would fall apart.

The most important thing now was to get Charles Brooks to comply!

As long as he succeeded, one merit would cover a hundred faults.

With Grand Secretary Young and Empress Dowager Bolton, they would protect him.

At worst, he’d be beaten with the court staff—maybe he’d even become famous overnight!

There are gamblers everywhere.

David Carter was just such a person. After thinking for a while, he took out his personal seal.

“Wait, since you’re representing the Ministry of Rites, what about Minister Mason? Does he know?” Henry Foster pressed.

David Carter replied blankly, “Of course he knows.”

“Good, then please write that down as well and stamp it. I’ll deliver it to His Highness right away and have him follow it.”

The pit was getting deeper and deeper—David Carter was sweating on his forehead. Now he was like a gambler who had lost everything, counting on one last bet to win it all back!