There was a special charm in His Majesty’s brows and eyes, but the painter had never seen him in person. Andrew Smith looked at the painting for a while, then said in frustration, “They say this is the best painting in the capital, but what is this mess? It may look similar, but the spirit is all wrong. My own skills are better than this.”

Muttering complaints for a while, he carefully put the scroll away and placed it in the hidden drawer by his bed. Andrew Smith lay down on the couch, and the scene of meeting His Majesty today replayed in his mind.

He wondered if his breach of etiquette today would make His Majesty dislike him. He didn’t even know what he looked like while playing cuju today—he must have been red-faced and thick-necked. Even if His Majesty praised his looks, no one looks good while playing cuju.

Thinking and thinking, Andrew Smith finally drifted off to sleep.

*

The thoughts of a young man were, of course, unknown to Brian Clark. He was attended as he bathed and changed clothes. In the evening, his face looked a bit pale. Samuel Grant asked softly, “Shall I give Your Majesty a head massage?”

On the bright yellow dragon bed, three beautiful palace maids in thin garments knelt beside Brian Clark, silently using towels to dry the emperor’s damp black hair.

“No need,” Brian Clark closed his eyes, enduring the discomfort in his body, “Have your little apprentice come over and give my legs a massage.”

Samuel Grant hurried to call his apprentice. The young eunuch knelt by the dragon bed and skillfully massaged the emperor’s legs, feeling secretly pleased that His Majesty liked his technique.

Once the black hair was dry, the three palace maids quietly left the bed and tiptoed out barefoot.

“Samuel Grant,” Brian Clark suddenly spoke, his voice lazy, as if he was about to fall asleep, “How is the task I assigned you coming along?”

Samuel Grant: “Your Majesty, everything is going smoothly.”

“Good,” said Brian Clark, “That last group I sent out, each one is my painstaking effort. Tell them to be careful in their actions. Information is one thing, but staying alive is most important.”

“Yes, I’ll remind them again tomorrow.”

Three years ago, Brian Clark had secretly sent people to take in a group of orphans, providing them with food, clothing, and shelter, teaching them to read, write, and fight. With daily, unceasing indoctrination, they eventually became a sharp blade in Brian Clark’s hand.

They listened only to the emperor. Whatever the emperor told them to do, they did. A year ago, Brian Clark selected the four hundred most loyal among them and had them infiltrate the households of various ministers, the borderlands, and local garrisons. Not only that, but even among the imperial guards in the palace and the bodyguards at his side, some of these people were planted. Back when he brought down the powerful minister Lu Feng, this blade played a crucial role.

Brian Clark secretly named this organization the Supervision Office. A vast net was quietly spreading across the land of Da Heng. Among those sent out by the Supervision Office, the capable ones had already earned military merit, while the less successful were still seeking opportunities to rise within the ministers’ households. The information they sent back was already showing astonishing power.

And this was only after a year. Brian Clark was in no hurry. Feeling drowsy, he said, “Let them settle in.”

The Ming Dynasty had the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the Qing Dynasty had the Imperial Bodyguard. Brian Clark also wanted to form an elite force in the open, loyal only to him—strong, robust armored soldiers. Countless ideas swirled in his mind: the Supervision Office and the elite force could complement and supervise each other. He had even thought of a name for this force: the Eastern Plume Guard, his sharp-eyed, talon-tipped eagle. Unfortunately, no matter how much he planned, he still lacked the revolutionary capital to make it happen.

Brian Clark didn’t know how far he could get before his death, but doing nothing made him feel especially uneasy.

Samuel Grant extinguished the lamp and quietly withdrew. Outside the hall, he nodded to the captain of the guards and whispered, “His Majesty is tired today.”

The captain of the guards was surnamed Zhang, given name Henry Foster. Not only was he strikingly handsome, but also highly talented. He was personally selected by His Majesty from the imperial guards. Henry Foster was deeply grateful for the emperor’s favor and was determined to protect His Majesty’s safety with unwavering loyalty.

The captain sighed, feeling sorry, “His Majesty was happy today.”

Samuel Grant couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “If there’s another occasion like this, I’ll have to beg His Majesty to watch again. If it makes him happy, I’d even bend over backwards and play cuju for him myself.”

The captain was silent for a moment. The guards on duty across from him winked at him, and after a moment’s hesitation, the captain said, “All of us brothers here are actually quite good at cuju.”

Many of them had practiced especially because His Majesty liked it. Each was a skilled player, showing off fancy moves and dazzling the eye.

Samuel Grant burst out laughing, his face blooming like a chrysanthemum. “Since Guard Zhang says so, I’ll remember it. Next time His Majesty asks, I’ll mention it to him. Then I’ll get to bask in His Majesty’s favor and see all you guards show your skills.”

As they chatted and laughed, Samuel Grant heard a few meows from the corner. Without changing expression, he jogged over, and a moment later returned beaming with joy. “Guard Zhang, a famous doctor has arrived in the capital!”

*