Dunn asked in surprise, “Add rocks?” (In the bar, when they say “add ice,” they don’t say “with ice” but “with rock.”)

The drunken onlookers nearby burst out laughing.

The bar owner laughed as well. “I forgot who you are…” He poured half a glass of golden whisky, then added half a glass of water. He handed it to Dunn: “This is the drink from my hometown.”

Dunn took a sip and immediately started coughing—he rarely drank foreign liquor. Besides, this authentic Scotch whisky had a strong, pungent taste of charcoal.

A round of schadenfreude laughter rang out in the bar.

“The Tony Dunn I know never drinks, living like a true traditional Puritan. And he would never look at me the way he is now. Don’t you know who I am?” The man stared at Dunn, and Dunn felt as if this man could see right through him. He had to find a way to cover for himself.

“Uh… I…” Dunn lowered his head and took another sip. This time, he didn’t dare let the liquor linger in his throat for even a second and swallowed it straight down. Sure enough, the discomfort was lessened a bit. “I fell by the side of the field this afternoon…”

Another burst of laughter.

The man scratched the back of his head, showing understanding.

Someone nearby helped Dunn out, shouting loudly, “Looks like our Coach Tony really knocked his brains out! The man sitting next to you is the pride of Nottingham Forest, a two-time European Cup hero, winner of the 1978 Stanley Matthews Award, Mr. Kenny Burns (Kenny Burns)! He’s a hundred times better than you, you dumb ass! Dumb ass! You’re just a dumb ass!”

Although Dunn appreciated this person introducing the big shot in front of him, and in such detail, that didn’t mean he had to accept this kind of insult. When someone first arrives in a strange environment, it’s easy to feel nervous and irritable, with a lot of pent-up anger. And ever since he made a fool of himself on the field today, that anger had only been building up. When those people insulted him as he entered the bar, he endured it, but that didn’t mean he could keep enduring. Besides, he was never one to take things lying down—in China, he was a hot-tempered, impulsive “angry youth.” Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ended up traveling through time after getting into a fight…

The people behind him laughed loudly, shouting “dumb ass, dumb ass” nonstop, but were caught off guard when their target suddenly swung around and flung the remaining half glass of whisky in his hand. The golden Scotch whisky sparkled brilliantly under the lights, drawing a beautiful arc through the air before landing squarely on the unlucky guy’s face—precise and beautiful, just like a David Beckham right-footed free kick.

The unlucky guy, his face drenched in whisky, had just wiped it off and was about to curse, “You fucking bastard—”

“Bang!” His curse was cut off by a heavy glass smashing into him, as Dunn lunged at him with unexpected speed, glass in hand. He couldn’t hold back his anger any longer—he’d ended up in this place for no reason, traveled four and a half years into the future for no reason, and was being mocked and insulted for no reason… Right now, he just wanted to vent on someone, whether he beat the other guy or got beaten himself.

The two crashed into the table behind them, empty bottles falling and shattering on the floor with a crisp crash.

The laughter stopped abruptly. Everyone was stunned. They hadn’t expected the Tony Dunn who seemed like a coward just moments ago to suddenly explode.

The first to react was the bar owner, Kenny Burns. He shoved the fat man standing by the bar and shouted, “What are you standing there for? Pull them apart!”

His shout snapped everyone out of it, and they all rushed over, struggling to separate the two who were tangled together. Aside from the mess on the floor, the guy who got hit was already bleeding from his forehead, a red circle marking the spot—the imprint of the glass rim. In addition, his left cheek had taken a punch and was as red as if he were drunk.

As for Dunn, aside from his hair and clothes being messed up, he was otherwise unscathed. After being pulled up, he seemed to have vented all his anger and showed no sign of wanting to continue the fight. He straightened his clothes and hair, then spat at the unlucky guy being held by his companions: “I don’t give a fuck who you are, don’t mess with me.”

Then he turned to Burns and said, “Sorry for making such a mess here. Today is just so fucking…” The thought of having traveled through time made him angry again. “Another day… I’ll come apologize in person, and don’t worry about compensation.”

Without waiting for the bar owner to respond, he turned and walked toward the door. As he passed the fat man, he sneered, “Save your milk for yourself, you fat pig.”

Everyone watched as he pushed the door open and left, but no one thought to stop him—they just watched him go, leaving behind a mess.

The bar fell silent. At that moment, the drunken guy sat up from the table, looked at the silent room and the chaos, and asked in confusion, “Did I miss something?”

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