“You’re quite scheming for your age, and your father has personally taught you since you were young. I suppose your knowledge is extraordinary as well. After all… Brian Sullivan is talented, but he’s arrogant and tends to favor military men…”

Ethan Sullivan’s heart trembled, and he finally understood why Brian Sullivan was so universally condemned.

Edward Clark was forced to his death just last year, and a civil official like Brian Sullivan who sympathized with military men was considered an oddity.

There’s nothing wrong with sympathizing with the military, but you shouldn’t do it so openly!

Now, this had gotten Ethan Sullivan and his sister into trouble.

But since Ethan Sullivan had taken on the original’s identity, he naturally had to accept everything that came with it.

“Now that Di Wuxiang is gone, if the Western Xia or the Liao people attack, who will stand for Song?”

Abraham Brooks said sternly, “The Song never lacks warriors. Whether it’s the Zhong family or the Zhe family, you’re still young, and you must never stray onto the wrong path.”

Ethan Sullivan’s heart turned slightly cold, knowing this topic could not be pursued further.

“They’re here!”

At that moment, someone shouted from ahead.

Abraham Brooks’s expression became serious, and only then did Ethan Sullivan notice that he was actually wearing his official robes.

What was this old man planning?

As more than ten riders approached from the left front, Abraham Brooks walked out and blocked the middle of the road.

The old man’s face was solemn as he shouted, “Earlier today, you all said in court that you would trample the Imperial Street and sweep through Kaifeng Prefecture. I, Bao Zheng, acting Prefect of Kaifeng, am here today. If you want to pass, you’ll have to trample over me first.”

The night market was brightly lit, and Ethan Sullivan could see everything clearly.

“They’re Liao people!”

Someone screamed, and the night market began to stir in panic.

Most of the dozen or so riders wore felt hats, but a few did not. On their heads, only a strip of hair above the temples remained, with the rest bald—almost like a Mediterranean hairstyle.

Chapter 0008: That Raised Middle Finger

The night market was bustling, packed with people like fish in a river.

But after these Liao people appeared, nearly all the vendors around fled.

Their countless victories against the Song had made the Liao people almost arrogant, not taking this country seriously at all.

So when they saw Abraham Brooks blocking the street, the leading Liao man sneered, shouted a few commands, and actually spurred his horse forward.

On his shoulder perched a hawk, its eyes reflecting the lantern light with a sinister glint.

The Liao people’s horsemanship was truly impressive; man and horse exuded a fierce aura.

Abraham Brooks stood in the middle of the road, his gaze fixed on the approaching riders, showing not a hint of nervousness.

Ethan Sullivan held Guoguo in his arms; the nearby vendors had all run off.

He didn’t care about Abraham Brooks’s life or death, but those Liao people were gathering behind and gradually picking up speed.

He was right in the path of the Liao charge, with nowhere to escape.

He saw a squad of soldiers standing behind Abraham Brooks, so he shouted, “Take him down!”

The squad leader glanced at Ethan Sullivan, his eyes full of helplessness and frustration.

Ethan Sullivan stood there in a daze.

He thought of history…

It seemed that from beginning to end, the Song was always trampled by the Liao. Even when the Jin rose and drove the Liao into a rout, the Song was still their defeated foe.

In other words, even when the Liao was on the verge of destruction, they could still crush the Song at will.

Damn it…

Ethan Sullivan felt a chill run up his spine, rising to the top of his head, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him, making him shiver all over.

This Song dynasty… damn, there’s not a shred of security!

The sound of hooves pounded urgently, like a death knell in Ethan Sullivan’s ears.

He put Guoguo down, not knowing what he was thinking, his breathing a bit rapid.

He took out his slingshot and loaded a stone pellet.

His face flushed, his mind filled with scenes of slaughter.

Abraham Brooks still did not retreat.

The Liao rider charged over, showing off his horsemanship right in front of Abraham Brooks.

The warhorse reared up, letting out a long, shrill neigh.

The hooves swept past Abraham Brooks’s eyes, the horseshoes glinting coldly, and then came the smug look on the Liao rider’s face.

Humiliation!

Abraham Brooks wished someone would shoot this Liao man with an arrow, but he knew that would lead to unpredictable consequences between the two countries, and the Liao were always looking for an excuse to invade southward, so…

Then he saw the hawk on the Liao man’s shoulder.

The hawk’s gaze was sharp, like a needle stabbing into his eyes.

This was still a barbaric nation; the Song was no match!

Abraham Brooks painfully reached this conclusion.

A few commoners who hadn’t fled were watching, most of them fearful. Some cursed, but none had the courage to act.

The squad of soldiers behind Abraham Brooks looked ashen; their sense of honor as soldiers was gone, leaving only humiliation.

Pop!

Without any warning, the feathers on the hawk’s chest suddenly burst apart.

With a sharp cry, the hawk flapped its wings, but finally tumbled crookedly off the Liao man’s shoulder.

Feathers drifted slowly through the air…

Abraham Brooks was stunned.

The Liao people were stunned.

Everyone present was stunned.

“Holy shit!”

Abraham Brooks whipped his head around and saw Ethan Sullivan standing there, head held high, raising a finger in this direction—looked like the middle finger. In his left hand, he held a Y-shaped object.

Then he scooped up Guoguo and the little dog and dashed off.

“Bravo!”