This beautiful young woman had already eloped in secret, so after suffering a loss, what could she dare say? She hadn’t really done anything, and that new Robert Brooks was just a farmer—though he’d earned military merit, it was obvious he was a simple-minded brute. Could she really not handle him? Who’s to say, maybe in the future, the East and West Halls would be under the new Mr. Robert's seal, but her own words would carry more weight?

Perhaps, in the future, this new Mr. Robert would rely on her for everything, and she might really have some kind of encounter with this beautiful young woman.

But unexpectedly, this beautiful young woman flatly refused, clearly seeing through his intentions. Henry Clark's face couldn’t hide his embarrassment, and he said in a deep voice, “Emily Young! Are you refusing to let me smooth things over for you with Mr. Robert? Then don’t blame me! Think carefully—this new Mr. Robert is just a farmer. If I speak well of you, I can help you rise to the clouds; if I speak ill, I can send you to hell!” The two men with blades were his trusted aides, and as for the tenant farmers, he didn’t care about them at all. These words would never reach the new Mr. Robert's ears.

Emily Young sneered, “Arthur Clark, I advise you to let me go today. Otherwise, with my beauty, as you said, to a mere farmer, I could easily make him dote on me alone. By then, Arthur Clark, who will be in heaven and who in hell?!”

Clearly, she was fiercely strong-willed at heart, and now she was throwing caution to the wind, caring about nothing.

Henry Clark's face froze, and a vicious glint gradually appeared in his eyes. He glanced around—desolate fields, not a soul in sight. He said coldly, “Woman, I could send you to hell right now. If you dare be disrespectful again, just try me. I ask you: are you going or not?!”

He was burning with rage, but his lust was even stronger. The thought of humiliating this proud beauty and making her submit had become an obsession, no longer just a fleeting desire to take advantage.

Samuel Young had remained silent all along, but now his heart sank. Seeing the vicious look in Henry Clark's eyes, he knew this man was not just making empty threats. He hurriedly forced a smile and said, “Mr. Arthur, my little sister was rude, please don’t blame her, Mr. Arthur!”

But Henry Clark ignored him, staring at Emily Young's pretty face. “I’m asking you: are you going or not?!”

Emily Young bit her red lips and said coldly, “I’m not going!”

She was by no means a paragon of loyalty or virtue, but after all that had been said, to now swallow her pride and beg this disgusting little toad—who might even take the chance to humiliate her—she’d rather die!

Henry Clark just laughed, glanced at the two men with blades beside him, and nodded slightly. “Good, very good!”

“Ahem…” Nathaniel Brooks coughed, feeling he’d seen enough of the show and had gotten a sense of everyone. If this went on, it would turn into a bloody tragedy, which was not ideal. “Arthur Clark, Emily Young, I may be a farmer, but I’m not that clueless, am I? Do you two really think you have me figured out? One says you’ll be in charge of county affairs, the other says I’ll dote on you and you’ll call the shots. I don’t think that’s very likely, do you?!”

The others were all stunned. Though some of Nathaniel Brooks's words were unfamiliar, the general meaning was clear enough.

Nathaniel Brooks looked at Henry Clark and smiled slightly. “Yes, my name is Nathaniel Brooks, the very Nathaniel Brooks you’re looking for!”

“You’re Nathaniel Brooks? Robert Brooks?!” Henry Clark’s eyes widened in utter confusion. What was going on? Were these people putting on a play to get him killed? He looked blankly at the The Young Siblings, only to see the same shock on their faces.

Then he looked at this farm boy—delicate features, but so young! Was he being made a fool of?

“Samuel Young, you tell me—is he really Robert Brooks?!” Henry Clark shouted angrily.

Samuel Young was completely at a loss, even more confused inside. Mr. Brooks? Robert Brooks? Nathaniel Brooks? Right, Mr. Brooks was called Nathaniel Brooks, but could he really be Robert Brooks? How was that possible? Mr. Brooks was so young, not even of age—how could he be an official?

Suddenly, Emily Young shouted, “That’s right, he is Robert Brooks! Henry Clark, do you realize what you just said? Aren’t you going to kneel and confess your crime?!” She didn’t care if this kid was bluffing—she’d seize any opportunity.

Hearing Emily Young say this, Henry Clark hesitated. If this farm boy was impersonating the county magistrate and he got scared off, that would be humiliating.

But what if he really was the new magistrate?

Thinking of what he’d just said and what he’d almost done, Henry Clark suddenly felt a chill.

“Such insolence!” Nathaniel Brooks was growing impatient.

As he spoke, he stepped forward, suddenly appearing before one of the men with blades. The man was startled and tried to step back, but his leg went numb and he involuntarily dropped to one knee with a thud. The gleaming steel blade was now in Nathaniel Brooks's hand.

With a clang, the other man instinctively drew his blade, but Nathaniel Brooks lightly tapped it with the back of his own. The man felt a tremendous shock in his hand, and his blade flew out in an arc, landing a few steps away and sticking into the loose earth with a thud.

The man’s face changed dramatically. Was this even human? Such strength! It was as if a casual swing carried the power of a titan.

Nathaniel Brooks nodded in satisfaction. The benefit of being struck by lightning was that he seemed reborn, even sturdier than in his previous life.

The gleaming blade was now at Henry Clark's neck. Nathaniel Brooks's gaze grew cold as he gripped the weapon and said calmly, “You petty official, how dare you behave so rudely in front of me? Killing you would be as easy as slaughtering a chicken!”