He glanced down at Charles Brooks, who was still silently shedding tears, and felt a bit annoyed, thinking to himself, “What’s with this brat, is he never going to stop?” He nudged him lightly with his toe, cleared his throat, and said, “Young Master Brooks, if you’ve rested enough, get up and tidy yourself. This is no place to linger—who knows how many pursuers are behind us, waiting to wipe you out completely. Mr. Carter was entrusted with this task, so at the very least, I have to deliver you to Tai Lake in one piece.”

Charles Brooks slowly rolled his eyes around, then froze, covering his face with both hands and curling up like a shrimp, bursting into loud sobs. As soon as he started crying, Samuel Carter’s head began to ache. He thought about scolding him, but felt a pang of guilt; he considered comforting him like a child, but didn’t know how. So he sat in silence for a while, then suddenly stood up and walked toward the door.

His intention was to check on the Buddha statue he had knocked over with a palm strike earlier. He felt that just as he was about to do a good deed, he had ended up disrespecting the Buddha, which wasn’t right. He thought he should find a way to put the statue back. Unexpectedly, Charles Brooks thought he was leaving, rolled over, scrambled up, and lunged forward, grabbing Samuel Carter’s leg and crying out anxiously, “Uncle Carter, Uncle Carter, don’t… don’t go, I… I…”

His sniffling, pitiful appearance was truly miserable. Though he and Samuel Carter had only just met, at this moment he had no one else to rely on, and practically regarded Samuel Carter as a living Buddha who had saved his life.

Samuel Carter looked at him expressionlessly and said coolly, “A man’s knees are as precious as gold—didn’t your father ever teach you that?”

Charles Brooks was stunned for a moment, then suddenly had a flash of inspiration. He wiped his face vigorously, smearing snot and tears all over his sleeve, and said, “To bow to Heaven, Earth, ruler, parents, and teacher is only right and proper. Uncle Carter is my great benefactor—please let Charles become your disciple!”

Meanwhile, William Walker and Grace Miller were watching with great interest. Grace Miller even whispered, “Huh, yesterday he was just a timid, silly kid—how did he get so clever all of a sudden?”

Samuel Carter could only say, “Get up first.”

Charles Brooks stubbornly replied, “If Master doesn’t agree, I won’t get up! My family’s blood feud must be avenged—if I, Charles Brooks, can’t do that, how can I call myself a man?! Master…”

Samuel Carter couldn’t be bothered to listen to his grand declarations any longer. He grabbed him by the shoulders, picked him up like a chick, and said self-mockingly, “I’m a useless man with one foot in the grave—living day by day. What could I possibly teach you? I’ve heard that the great hero of Tai Lake, James Clark, was an old friend of your father’s. I’ll take you to him—no need to beg. There’ll be plenty of people lining up to teach you martial arts and help you get your revenge.”

Then he turned, gathered his strength in his palms, lifted the large Buddha statue at the waist, carried it to the altar, and pushed it back into place. Muttering “forgive me, forgive me,” he pressed his palms together and made a couple of half-hearted bows. Glancing back at the dazed Charles Brooks, he said, “If you can get up, let’s go. Didn’t you want revenge? We’d better hurry and find Hero Clark. I’ll take you out to find something to eat.”

With that, he stretched lazily as if no one else were there, smiled at Grace Miller, ignored William Walker, and turned to leave, not caring whether Charles Brooks followed or not.

Charles Brooks stood there feeling wronged for a while, and when he realized the man was really leaving, he hurriedly chased after him.

William Walker rubbed his chin with his fingers, watched the two figures with great interest for a moment, then slapped his thigh and stood up, saying to Grace Miller, “Let’s go to Tai Lake and follow them.”

Grace Miller wiped the playful smile off her face, pondered for a moment, and then said quietly, “Master, according to what Charles Brooks said, the ones who massacred the Zhang family yesterday were the evil ghosts of Green Bamboo Ridge, and the Hanging Ghost Xue Fang was among them.”

William Walker glanced at her indifferently and said, “Mm, so what?”

Grace Miller was taken aback, and seeing that William Walker was already heading out, she hurried to catch up, saying seriously, “That Hanging Ghost was clearly an imposter—I killed him yesterday. Master… did you already know?”

“Alice.” William Walker gave her a look, his eyes seeming to draw her in.

Grace Miller immediately lowered her head and whispered, “Yes, I spoke out of turn.”

In that moment, the girl who usually feared nothing looked pale, her expression clearly one of fear. William Walker gave her a long look, then finally turned away, satisfied, and continued walking, with Grace Miller silently following a short distance behind.

Then William Walker said to himself, “We’ll follow that man named Zhou. I’m sure I’m not mistaken—he must be a beauty. If we keep following, we’ll definitely catch a glimpse of his fox tail. Alice, if you don’t believe me, we can make a bet.”

And so, Samuel Carter’s journey was destined to be anything but peaceful.

With Charles Brooks in tow, it was like carrying an invincible stink bomb—attracting swarms of flies wherever they went. That night, after fending off another group of pursuers, he fiddled with the two taels of broken silver in his hand, full of regret.