Edward Harris blushed, "Assassins are all high attack, low defense..."

After saying this, he didn't care whether William Thompson understood or not. He turned his head and flashed two rows of small white teeth. "Why don't I make it even more convincing?"

William Thompson's thin lips moved, as if on alert.

Edward Harris had already put down his teacup and began, "Hiss... ah... ah..."

"Ah... Your Majesty, spare me...!"

He cried out with utmost seriousness, but Brian Clark standing to the side felt anxious just listening.

A vein throbbed on William Thompson's temple; he could no longer bear it. "Shut up."

"...Ah."

Edward Harris finished with a breathy sound, then obediently closed his mouth and lowered his head to drink tea.

In fact, he felt pretty good about his performance; the emotions were all in place.

The thirty strokes of the court staff were soon finished.

The legendary Jinyiwei, who could kill without shedding blood, were methodically cleaning up the pork on the bench.

Edward Harris praised and felt ashamed, "They've been wronged."

Such elite agents directly under the Emperor, yet he made them do this—truly his fault.

"If you are to be my blade, you must be able to do anything," William Thompson said coolly.

As he spoke, the Jinyiwei were carrying the pork past Edward Harris. Edward Harris glanced at it; after thirty strokes, the whole piece of meat was battered and torn.

"Ning Qing." A voice pulled his attention back.

Edward Harris turned his head and saw William Thompson's sharply defined profile against the gray-white courtyard wall, his gaze fixed in the distance. "I am giving you this chance. Do not disappoint me."

He clutched his teacup tightly, the heat scalding from his fingertips straight to his heart.

"I will give it my all."

…

Back at the Ning residence.

Edward Harris entered the room and immediately instructed Xinglan to bring him paper and brush, then bent over the desk and began writing furiously.

Eric Young came over, "Master, what are you doing?"

Edward Harris didn't even look up. "I'm giving it my all."

Eric Young: ??

Soon, the paper was filled with a list of items.

Edward Harris picked up the sheet and looked it over. Satisfied that there were no mistakes, he went outside and called for ten guards.

"From now on, do exactly as written on this list. Make it loud—put your clothes on! That's not the kind of noise I meant... I mean your voices, louder, understand?"

The guards all bowed their heads. "Yes, Master!"

Once the group of burly figures had disappeared through the gate, Eric Young came over, "Master, what did you send them to buy?"

Edward Harris reservedly handed over the list, showing off this literary masterpiece—

Eric Young looked down and read:

Buy an incense burner at the East Market, buy pork bones at the West Market;

Invite a doctor from the South Market, pull white cloth from the North Market.

"........."

Edward Harris asked expectantly, "Any thoughts?"

Eric Young, "This old servant wouldn't dare to even imagine."

·

In less than a day, rumors spread everywhere—

Edward Harris lay on a soft couch in the courtyard, squinting in the sunset. "What are people saying outside now?"

Eric Young reported truthfully, "Everyone in court says you've fallen out of favor, Master, because you spoke up for Minister Geng and angered His Majesty. You were given thirty strokes of the staff, and after the beating you couldn't even stand, covered with a white cloth and carried back to the Ning residence."

"Do they believe it?"

"They do. Everyone knows you broke eight ribs, and the household bought ten jin of pork bones to help you recover. All the doctors in the capital were rounded up and brought to the residence, and two cartloads of medicinal herbs were delivered to keep you alive."

"And those white shrouds..." Eric Young paused, hesitating, "Uh, Master, isn't that a bit much?"

"It's best when truth and fiction are hard to tell apart," Edward Harris opened his eyes slightly, his long lashes tinged gold by the sunset. "To fool the enemy, you must first fool yourself."

He gazed off into the distance. "Ha, they're all dazzled and confused now."

…

At the same time, in the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

William Thompson rubbed his brow in confusion. "Say that again—what is he doing?"

Brian Clark bowed, "Your Majesty, I heard the Ning residence has started hanging white cloth, preparing for a mourning hall."

"........."

Brian Clark carefully observed the Emperor's expression, chuckling awkwardly, "Though it's a ruse, Master Ning is making it a bit too convincing—even this servant is starting to believe it."

After he finished, the hall was silent.

After a long while, William Thompson suddenly spoke, "That day, I really didn't beat him, did I?"

Brian Clark looked up in shock, "Your Majesty?"

William Thompson frowned deeply, suddenly feeling uncertain. "Nor did I punish him otherwise? That teacup... I didn't even touch him with it, did I?"

"Of course—"

Brian Clark had been quite sure, but after being asked, he suddenly wasn't so certain: with Master Ning's frail and sickly body, who could really say for sure?

He dropped to his knees. "This servant... this servant can't quite remember..."

William Thompson was left dizzy and muddled by the rumors.

Ever since his rebirth, many things had become strange, like living in a dream.

"Shi Yi."

A figure silently knelt in the hall.

"Go see if he's really sick or—" Halfway through, William Thompson seemed to remember something and stopped. "Never mind, you may go."

Eleanor kowtowed silently and disappeared.