The atmosphere in the hall was relaxed. Abraham Lincoln kept his two brothers to dine with him. When it was time to leave, he heard Abraham Lincoln ask, “I heard Qidong also sent someone. Who is it?”

Charles Bennett replied, “It’s Benjamin Harris from the border commandery.”

Abraham Lincoln seemed a bit weary, leaned back in his chair, and waved his hand, saying, “Let him come tomorrow.”

Andrew Bennett followed Charles Bennett out. The two brothers hadn’t gone far when they saw someone kneeling under the corridor. Edward Foster stepped forward, bent down, and said with a cheerful smile, “General Harris, General Harris!”

Benjamin Harris opened his eyes and said tiredly, “Elder Foster.”

Edward Foster said, “No need to keep kneeling. His Majesty is tired today; you’ll only be able to see him tomorrow!”

Benjamin Harris was taciturn. He nodded, then got up and left with the Bennett brothers. Once outside the palace gates and mounted on their horses, Charles Bennett finally asked, “Why were you kneeling all this time?”

Benjamin Harris said, “His Majesty doesn’t want to see me.”

The two were silent for a moment, both understanding the reason. Benjamin Harris didn’t seem resentful. He turned to glance at Andrew Bennett and asked, “Did His Majesty reward you?”

Andrew Bennett held the reins and said, “He’s keeping me on a tight leash.”

Benjamin Harris reached out and patted Andrew Bennett on the shoulder, saying, “He’s not just keeping you in check—he’s keeping your elder brother and your father in check too.”

Andrew Bennett listened to the sound of hooves for a while before saying, “His Majesty mentioned my sister-in-law. I broke out in a cold sweat right then.”

Benjamin Harris and Charles Bennett both laughed. Benjamin Harris asked, “How are the Prince and Olivia?”

Charles Bennett nodded. His cloak wrapped around his court robes, the armor gone, he lacked the youthful fierceness of Andrew Bennett, yet there was something about him that drew the eye. He said, “They’re both well. Father is still worried about the old general’s leg injury, so he especially asked me to bring his usual ointment this time. Olivia is well too, but ever since she became pregnant, she’s missed you all very much. She’s written many letters, which I’ve brought with me. Once we get to the residence, you’ll see her.”

Benjamin Harris pulled at his reins a bit awkwardly and said, “Our family is all military men, no mother or sisters-in-law to keep her company. It’s bitterly cold in Libei in winter. I’ve been worried ever since I heard the news while leading troops from the border.”

“That’s right,” Andrew Bennett said, turning his head. “Cizhou was so dangerous, and with big brother trapped, he told me not to write home, afraid sister-in-law would worry. The battle broke out so suddenly—when we left, big brother and sister-in-law had just learned she was pregnant.”

Charles Bennett was always restrained, and only said, “Father is staying home this time to protect Olivia. Don’t worry. After the New Year, I’ll return home and won’t go anywhere else.”

Benjamin Harris sighed, “In recent years, Libei has been at the center of the storm. Every time we send out troops, we have to think thrice. This time, I only regret that David Sullivan was too cowardly to fight, leaving such a mess. When my troops passed through the Chashi sinkhole, the blood was up to the horses’ hooves. He couldn’t escape death, so he burned himself first, but the whole thing is suspicious. Charles, you captured his son and brought him to the capital—did you notice anything?”

Charles Bennett gathered his cloak against the wind and said, “David Sullivan always cared about the distinction between legitimate and concubine-born sons. This son is the eighth, born of a concubine, with no support from his mother’s family, abandoned to be raised in Duanzhou. It’s understandable he knows nothing of the inside story. But His Majesty’s persistence must have its reasons.”

Andrew Bennett put on his helmet and said, “The public’s anger is hard to quell. His Majesty personally handed the military command of the six prefectures of Zhongbo to David Sullivan, and now that this has happened, he has to execute someone to prove his fairness.”

Yet the one truly holding the imperial power of Great Zhou was not him, but the Empress Dowager The Empress Dowager who ruled from behind the curtain. The situation was now deadlocked, and everyone’s eyes were on William Sullivan. If he confessed and died, all would be pleased; if he didn’t die, he was destined to become a thorn in the flesh. The Bennett clan of Libei was now at the height of its glory—even the Qi family, supreme commanders of Qidong, had to step back. Charles Bennett was first among the “Iron Horse and Frozen River,” the four great generals, and also the brother-in-law of Benjamin Harris from the border commandery of Qidong. If you looked deeper, he could mobilize the Libei cavalry and, through his wife’s family, command the border garrison, making the capital wary.

“The Empress Dowager is determined to spare his life,” Benjamin Harris said, lips pressed tight. “She’s planning for the future—to raise a jackal who can both justifiably reclaim Zhongbo and bow to her orders. By then, she’ll strengthen her power at home and check Libei from without—a true hidden danger. Charles, this son cannot be left alive!”

A fierce wind swept snow down the street, stinging their faces like knives. None of the three spoke. In the long silence, Matthew Lee, who had been quiet at the rear, rode forward.

“You kicked him earlier, young master—eighty percent of your strength, right to the chest. I saw his breath was already weak, and his old wounds bled when he fell,” Matthew Lee mused, “but he didn’t die on the spot.”

Andrew Bennett gripped his riding crop and said, “He’s been interrogated for days and flogged in court—he was barely hanging on. That kick was meant to send him to the underworld. If he survives the night, I’ll admit he’s got a tough life.”

But Matthew Lee frowned and said, “He’s thin and frail, and the cold hasn’t left him all the way here. By rights, he should have died long ago. Yet he’s still barely breathing—there’s something strange about this. My lord…”

Charles Bennett glanced sideways at them, and the two fell silent. He gazed ahead into the fierce wind, was quiet for a moment, then said, “Whether he lives or dies, it’s all fate.”

The wind howled, and the iron horses under the eaves on both sides clanged together. The murderous air in the snow suddenly dissipated. Charles Bennett sat upright on his horse, calm and composed, and spurred his horse forward.

Matthew Lee bowed from horseback and rode after him.