He sensed a subtle, indescribable feeling of kinship from this person, and thus knew that this man must also be someone who never acts without benefit. Following him... or following Charles Brooks to Taihu, he must have his own motives. After pondering for a while without any clue, he secretly mocked himself, thinking that this habit of digging to the root of things was truly an old problem.

Lowering his head, he saw that William Walker was watching him with great interest, so he smiled and said, “If Brother Walker is really so curious, why not peel off my skin and see how many layers of flesh and bone are inside?”

William Walker raised his eyebrows and suddenly said, “Alright.”

He had barely finished saying “alright” when he struck out like lightning toward Samuel Carter’s face. Samuel Carter was already on guard, leaned back, bent at the waist, and lifted a leg to kick at William Walker’s wrist.

In a flash, the two exchanged more than ten moves, their actions dazzling and hard to follow.

Samuel Carter felt that, clinging to the window, his movements were quite restricted and he was at a disadvantage. He ducked under a palm strike, leapt down, but for him, the night was already difficult enough, not to mention having been tossed about for most of it. The nail in his chest throbbed with sharp pain, causing his movements to falter.

In just an instant, William Walker’s palm was already at his chest, a gust of force coming with it, but the move suddenly halted.

Samuel Carter glanced down at the hand almost pressed to his chest, but his expression remained calm as he smiled and said, “Thank you, Brother Walker, for showing mercy…”

But before he could finish, William Walker’s hand suddenly touched his face—not just touched, but slowly stroked it with his fingers, as if trying to discern whether it was made of human skin or pigskin.

Before Samuel Carter could pull away, he saw Grace Miller, probably having heard the commotion, stick her head out the window. She took one look, immediately covered her eyes, pulled her head back, and called out, “Oh my, indecent!”

—Indeed, she spoke his mind.

William Walker was very close, his expression extremely serious—as it always seemed to be. The moonlight became ambiguous, and it really did look rather indecent.

Over there, Grace Miller didn’t bother to lower her voice, muttering to herself, “Stye, I’m going to get a stye…”

Samuel Carter hurriedly coughed, took a big step back to the side, steadied himself, and asked with a wry smile, “Hero Walker, can you tell what my face is made of?”

“Flesh and skin,” William Walker pondered for a moment before coming to this conclusion.

Samuel Carter agreed unconditionally.

William Walker stared at his own fingers and said, “Strange… strange, it actually feels like it’s really your own.”

Samuel Carter calmly replied, “Indeed, it is my own.”

If there were a third person present, they would surely think one of these two men was crazy—of course, Grace Miller excepted.

William Walker seemed a bit put out, glanced at Samuel Carter again, then got up and left—not returning to his room, but heading outside. Only then did Grace Miller stick her head out again, her eyes rolling as she smiled and said, “Well, that’s good. I guess my master can’t handle reality and has gone to the brothel to find his beauty. Now that he’s gone, everyone can wash up and go to bed early.”

William Walker didn’t even turn his head; he was already far away, but his voice floated lightly on the wind, as if carried by a thread, drifting straight into Grace Miller’s ears.

He said, “Alice, are you even speaking human language?”

Grace Miller obediently replied, “I’m talking nonsense.”

Then she quickly pulled her head back in and shut the window—as if eager to keep that nonsense all to herself.

Only then did Samuel Carter breathe a little easier, slowly relaxing his body, leaning against the wall, biting down hard on his teeth, not making a sound.

Fortunately, the pain came in waves. After a while, it eased a bit, and only then did he compose himself and return to his room.

That night felt especially long.

Three days later, Samuel Carter, accompanied by the young master Charles Brooks, who had grown noticeably thinner in just a few days, arrived at Taihu.

He knocked on James Clark’s door, and before he could state his purpose, the old steward’s eyes were already fixed on Charles Brooks, exclaiming, “You are… you are Charles? Are you Charles, aren’t you?!”

Then he turned and shouted to the servants inside, “Go quickly, call the master! Young Master Charles is here! Young Master Charles is still alive!”

Soon, James Clark of Taihu, known as Hero Clark, personally came out to greet them. Charles Brooks fell to his knees with a thud. It seemed the Zhang family’s tragedy had spread far and wide. A group of people burst into tears, then, with great fanfare, welcomed the two inside.

Samuel Carter thought, finally, he didn’t have to worry about someone disturbing his ancestors’ graves anymore—doing good and accumulating virtue was truly exhausting.

9

9. Chapter Nine: In the Forest ...

James Clark of Taihu, known as the Swordsman of Autumn Mountain, was a renowned hero of his generation.