Scalding blood splattered across Charles's face. He controlled himself to the utmost, barely managing to keep a calm expression, but his hand gripped tightly onto a corner of the black-armored man's shoulder.

This was... the legendary Xuan Iron Battalion, said to be able to fight a hundred men alone and break through any defense.

A few of the barbarians realized the vast difference in strength between the two sides and no longer dared to face him alone. They exchanged glances, then simultaneously darted out of Xiuniang's hut, leaping onto the roof from several directions. One lunged at the black-armored man's feet, slashing at the joints of his legs; another swung a sword down at his head, blocking his upward escape; yet another blocked his back, aiming straight for the golden box on the black armor.

The scar-faced man, now missing an arm, retreated ten paces away, raised his remaining arm, and the end of his iron arm opened up—a vicious arrowhead quivered, aimed at Charles on the black-armored man's shoulder.

These barbarians had hunted together since childhood, surrounding and killing prey with near-perfect coordination.

Murderous intent filled the air, boiling in the swirling white steam, making every hair on one's body stand on end.

Charles finally understood the "stick" in the black-armored man's hand. When driven at high speed, three or four foot-long Xuan iron blades would shoot out from one end of the staff along with a fine jet of steam. When the force was withdrawn, the sharp blades would quickly retract and hide on the other side. With each movement, the blades spun in a full circle, like a terrifying meat grinder.

At that moment, Charles's footing suddenly gave way—he was pushed from the black-armored man's shoulder into the crook of his arm, his whole body pressed against the heavy armor's chest, and suddenly bent backward with him.

Charles was startled—never mind his own weight, just that heavy armor alone must weigh several hundred jin. With such a bend, all the weight would press on the black-armored man's waist. Wouldn't his waist be crushed by the steel armor?

The black-armored man bent backward and flipped, spinning cleanly in midair, holding Charles as he leapt off the roof, narrowly dodging the arrow shot by the scar-faced barbarian.

The light on the wind-cutting blade condensed into a single line. In a flash, he killed another man, severed another's legs, and then steam burst from the steel greaves at his feet, propelling the heavy armor forward. In the blink of an eye, he was already dozens of zhang away.

Dealing with a few barbarian armored soldiers seemed effortless for him; it was only because of Charles that he didn't get entangled with them.

"I'll get you out of the city first," the black-armored man said unhurriedly. "It's too chaotic here. As for your mother... sigh, my condolences."

Charles leaned against him, silent for a while before saying, "My mother took poison and killed herself. She always had contact with the barbarians beyond the border—she might have been a barbarian spy."

The black-armored man said nothing, seemingly not surprised.

"You saved the son of a barbarian spy—what a loss," Charles paused, then bluntly revealed the other's identity, "Mr. Sullivan."

A wisp of fine white steam rose by the black-armored man's ear. The Xuan iron mask was pushed up, revealing the face of James Sullivan, who looked like a frail scholar.

"There was a traitor on the Northern Patrol's giant kite," James Sullivan said. "I originally thought the traitor was Brother Foster, but now it seems Xiuniang's suicide was probably because she felt guilty toward her husband. I think Brother Foster may have already died for his country, and never knew about this until the end. You too... my condolences."

"So you knew all along..." Charles said softly. "Who are you?"

James Sullivan: "I am a subordinate of the Xuan Iron Battalion, a direct retainer of Marshal Gu."

A subordinate of the Xuan Iron Battalion, direct retainer of Marquis Anding, Edward Bennett.

Charles mulled over this sentence several times, feeling very strange—he had just learned he wasn't his mother's biological child, that his always-secluded mother was a barbarian spy, and now he heard that the poor scholar next door, whose hands were never clean, was actually a general of the Xuan Iron Battalion.

Then what about William?

Charles thought with a bitter smile, that even if someone told him now that his adoptive father was General Bennett, or even the emperor himself, he wouldn't have the energy to be surprised.

"Why is a general under Commander Bennett hiding out in a backwater like ours? Why save the son of a barbarian woman?" After asking these two questions, Charles realized he might lose control, and immediately tried to clamp his mouth shut. Unfortunately, he still couldn't stop the last, unnecessary question from squeezing out through his teeth, "What about William Sullivan?"

After asking, Charles felt an indescribable sadness. Even at this point, he was still thinking about William Sullivan. He knew that person was probably some high-ranking official traveling incognito, but he still worried about his poor eyesight and bad hearing—would he be accidentally hurt by the chaos outside, would he find a place to hide...

He couldn't help but think: "Why did Mr. Sullivan come for me? Why didn't William come?"

The sounds of battle shook the heavens. The giant kite's shadow covered the entire Yan Hui town. The white rainbow arrows flitted about like ghosts. In the distance, someone's house caught fire, and the flames quickly spread. James Sullivan's expression was cold and indifferent, ignoring everything, dodging stray arrows in the chaos like a bird or a fish: "Your Highness, please sit tight."

Charles said woodenly, "What did you call me?"

James Sullivan replied unhurriedly, "Fourteen years ago, His Majesty toured the south. The Imperial Noble Consort, pregnant, guarded the palace alone and was harmed by traitors. Fortunately, loyal servants and sisters helped her escape. Unexpectedly, on the way south, they encountered a rebellion. The consort, weak in health, gave birth to Your Highness amid the chaos, but never saw the light of day again."