My brother entrusted his child to me, and I livestreamed raising the baby, making the Empress cry wi

Canaan felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head, chilling him to the bone, and his mind was buzzing.

Having been a thief for so many years, he has only been caught a handful of times thanks to his superb skills, but this is the first time he has been caught before he even made a move!

He immediately put on a familiar smile, his lips twitching upwards so much that the skin on his cheeks trembled slightly, revealing two rows of slightly yellowed teeth.

Sunlight shone on his face, making his smiling face resemble a dried chrysanthemum stretched open with force; his voice was so sweet it seemed to ooze out sticky strands.

"Brother soldier, I'm a clerk 'personally appointed' by the King! We all work for the King, we're family! I really didn't steal anything!"

He emphasized the words "personally conferred by the King," as if he wanted to have them engraved on his forehead.

This was used to show that although his official rank was not high, he was directly connected to the king, and anyone who wanted to harm him would have to think twice.

As he spoke, his shoulders involuntarily shrank, trying to break free, but he was still held firmly in place by those two iron-like hands.

The two soldiers looked completely bewildered.

The slightly younger soldier on the left frowned, looked him up and down, and asked, "Canaan, right?"

Canaan nodded blankly. Did they recognize him?

He suddenly felt his mouth was a little dry, and subconsciously stuck out his tongue to lick the corner of his mouth, tasting a slightly salty and bitter taste of sweat.

"Yes...yes...I don't know what's going on with you, soldier brother..."

Having confirmed that he was Canaanite, the two soldiers didn't waste any more words and grabbed him, heading towards the palace.

"That's right! Come with us, the king has something to ask you."

Canaan stumbled as he was pulled, his shoes scraping against the stone slabs with a sharp, short sound that drew the attention of several passersby.

His new sheepskin boots looked nice, but they didn't seem to be very slip-resistant, and he couldn't get a grip on the wet, slippery stone slabs.

He was like a fly with its wings pinched, his upper body being lifted and propelled forward while his legs were still digging in place.

However, I did feel a sense of relief.

It's not enough to arrest him just because he stole something.

He turned his head and glanced over his shoulder at the fat man with gold and silver hair who was peeking over to watch the commotion.

The fat man's beady eyes were wide open, and he was holding a roasted lamb leg he had just bought.

He still had some mutton in his mouth that he hadn't swallowed, and oil dripped from the corners of his mouth all the way down to his chin, glistening in the sunlight. His whole face was greasy.

Canaan clicked his tongue. This fat guy is lucky. He hoped that the fat guy would still be there when he came back.

There's no reason for him to let go of a target he's set his sights on.

Moreover, he himself said that he rarely misjudges people.

Canaan regained his composure and was quickly led to the palace by soldiers, one on each side of him.

"Hey, big brother! Slow down... slow down..."

His two not-so-long legs struggled frantically on the stone pavement, the soles of his sheepskin boots slapping the ground so hard it felt like his feet were burning, making each step he took both hurried and unsteady.

Several times, the tips of his boots scraped against the cracks in the stone slabs, almost causing him to fall forward. He was pulled up by the soldiers on either side just before he fell, and this happened repeatedly.

The vendors and pedestrians on the street, who were coming and going shoulder to shoulder, made way for them, their eyes following the three of them as they walked forward, their whispers swirling behind them like grass clippings in the wind.

They sped all the way to the palace.

On the way, Canaan also tried to ask the two soldiers what the king wanted to ask him.

The two men remained silent, only urging him to hurry on his way, almost as if they wanted to carry him away.

He took large, hurried strides, his boots scraping over the water on the stone slabs, splashing water that soaked Canaan's trouser legs.

The slight chill made him feel uneasy for no reason, and Canaan finally shut his mouth, belatedly realizing that he was a little uneasy.

Just now I was so relieved that I wasn't being caught stealing, but now that relief has faded and been replaced by layers of unease rising up and down.

What could Your Majesty possibly need to ask you at this time?

Could it be that I was caught stealing under the guise of doing something for the king?

He couldn't help but think of the officials who had been flogged for embezzlement and bribery not long ago.

The man was tied to a pillar of a wooden cart and transported to a bustling marketplace where he was publicly tortured.

When the whip struck, the skin and flesh were torn open, and drops of blood splattered on the ground, emitting a sweet, pungent heat under the midday sun.

The grass on his grave is probably as tall as his calf by now.

A sour feeling suddenly welled up in Canaan's throat, and his stomach felt like it was being squeezed and twisted by an invisible hand.

Although he didn't embezzle or accept bribes, he still amassed a considerable fortune by using the king's name. If the king were to investigate...

The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became. A fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, sliding down his temples and tickling his cheeks, but he couldn't find a hand to wipe it away.

With the dark gate of the palace already in sight, he even considered turning around and running away.

But reason prevailed, and he knew that if he ran, he might lose his life.

Canaan could only watch helplessly as he drew closer and closer to the palace gate, which stood wide open in the darkness, like the gaping maw of a giant abyss beast, waiting for him to walk in.

Unwilling to go in, he even began to fantasize that the stone slab beneath his feet might suddenly crack open and swallow him whole…

Nothing unexpected happened.

Canaan's legs were weak, as if the bones had been removed from the back of his knees, and he walked with a limp, unsteady gait. He was carried into the council hall by two soldiers like a chick.

The cool air inside the hall, carrying the scent of ironwood and a faint hint of imported frankincense, wafted over him, clinging coldly to his sweaty neck.

As soon as the soldier let go, Canaan lost his support and fell to his knees with a thud.

His knee struck the cold, hard stone bricks with a dull thud, and the pain shot up his leg bone, making his nose sting.

The soldier then saluted and withdrew.

The clanging of armor clashing gradually faded into the distance, each sound like a hammer blow to the back of his head, finally swallowed up by the muffled sound of the palace doors closing and disappearing completely.

The entire hall fell into a heavy silence, so quiet that he could hear his heart pounding in his chest, so quiet that he could hear the air rushing in and out of his nostrils.

Canaan didn't dare to raise his head. He pressed his forehead to the ground, hunched his back, and huddled in the center of the empty hall like a boiled shrimp.

The back of my clothes was soaked with cold sweat, clinging to my skin, feeling both cool and sticky. A gust of wind slipped in from some unknown gap, making the damp cloth tremble slightly.

He took a deep breath and spoke in a trembling voice. His voice echoed through the empty hall, breaking into fragments, before finally reaching his own ears, sounding unfamiliar even to himself.

"Your Majesty...I...I wonder why Your Majesty is looking for me...I...what is the matter?"