His tone was extremely calm, but the chilling murderous intent seemed to descend from the heavens!

Still dressed as a farmer, still with that sickly, delicate face, yet at this moment, Nathaniel Brooks was like a heavenly soldier unsheathing his blade. The icy killing aura seemed to pierce everyone to the bone, making them ache faintly. Samuel Young staggered back a few steps and involuntarily fell to his knees. The two men holding knives kowtowed frantically, stammering incoherently, clearly begging for their lives.

Emily Young and her brother almost simultaneously prostrated themselves. Even Billy, facing this now utterly unfamiliar, seemingly god-of-slaughter-like old friend, had long since knelt to the ground, not daring to move a muscle.

Directly facing Nathaniel Brooks's might, Henry Clark felt his ears ring and vision blur, his heart pounding as if it would leap from his throat. With a cry, he collapsed backward, fainting dead away.

Nathaniel Brooks casually tossed his steel blade, which let out a "whoosh" as it shot through the air, producing a sound like wind and thunder. It embedded itself into an ancient tree nearby, sinking in up to the hilt. The massive tree, which would take four people to encircle, shook violently, leaves falling like rain. If not for this way of dissipating the force, it seemed the whole tree might have been uprooted by the blade's momentum.

Such overwhelming might!

Everyone present trembled in terror, unable to stop themselves from kowtowing even harder.

Emily Young felt cold sweat all over her body, her limbs icy, and a chill between her legs as if she had already lost control of her bladder. She dared not lift her head, her body shaking uncontrollably.

After a long moment, the young man let out a gentle sigh and turned away. The chilling aura that had filled the air and made everyone tremble gradually dissipated, as if that single throw had dispelled the god of slaughter's murderous intent.

"Get up, all of you." The young man's tone was now quite gentle.

Yet no one dared to rise.

"Emily Young, if you wish to leave, you may go now. That copper and those gold ingots—take them as your travel money!"

Emily Young jumped in fright, feeling a sudden warmth beneath her—this time, it was all too real; she had lost control again. Pressing her face to the ground, she hurriedly said, "I—I dare not..."

At this moment, Emily Young gradually began to believe that the youth before her was indeed the new Ming Prefect. Let alone a prefect—if he claimed to be the emperor himself, under such might, who could doubt it?

Nathaniel Brooks had wanted to say something to reassure her, but then shook his head, as if realizing it would be pointless.

The people of this world thought very differently from those in his previous life.

He glanced at the unconscious Henry Clark on the ground. "You two, carry him back and fetch a doctor. If he survives, have him slap himself a hundred times!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" The two knife-wielders kowtowed repeatedly.

After a while, Billy was the first to speak. "Ah, Dalang, the Ming Prefect is gone..."

Only then did everyone look up, but Nathaniel Brooks was already gone, his figure vanished among the fields and paths.

The two knife-wielders wiped the cold sweat from their foreheads. One went to retrieve the steel blade from the earth, while the other approached the ancient tree. He could only smile wryly—there was no point in trying; it was naturally impossible to pull out. So the two of them, one in front and one behind, carried the limp, pig-like Henry Clark away, trembling as they went.

"How did Mr. Brooks become Robert Brooks? Did I just shout at him earlier?" Samuel Young suddenly cried out in alarm. Remembering how he had yelled at Nathaniel Brooks just now, he spun in circles like his tail was on fire. "What do I do, what do I do?!"

Emily Young was staring dazedly at the knife hilt protruding from the ancient tree like a knot, muttering, "So what? I even said I wanted to gouge out his eyes!"

"Yeah, yeah, little sister, what are we going to do?" Samuel Young wailed, beating his chest and stamping his feet, full of regret.

"Would someone like him even care about what people like us say?" Emily Young shook her head gently, a bitter smile appearing on her pretty face.

"Yeah, yeah, that's right..." Samuel Young suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Just now, he was like a god of slaughter descending to earth—he scared me so bad I almost wet myself. I feel like, with that kind of presence, even the emperor would be nothing but an ant to him. Why would he care about what a bunch of country bumpkins like us say?" As he spoke, Samuel Young nodded repeatedly, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became, comforting himself quite well.

Suddenly, he licked his lips and chuckled, "Sis, your brother is counting on you now. I have a feeling we're about to make it big. I think, the Ming Prefect, hmph, might even become a Grand Marshal or Protector-General!" But then he shook his head, recalling that bone-chilling terror from before, and muttered, "Grand Marshal or not, I doubt he'd even care for that..."

Shaking off his wild thoughts, Samuel Young forced a laugh. "Sis, you've really found a blessing earned over nine lifetimes! From now on, I'm counting on you!"

Emily Young shook her head and walked over to the side of the ditch.

"Ah, right, let me take you home first. Billy, come..." Samuel Young was about to order Billy down into the ditch to fetch the bundle, but suddenly remembered something and abruptly stopped. He turned to Billy with an extremely friendly smile. "Billy, I'll take my sister back to the villa first. Later, I'll come find you for a drink, and we brothers can have a good chat."

Billy stared blankly, shook his head, then jumped down into the ditch, picked up the bundle with the copper ingots, and said, "I'll escort the village head and madam back to the villa." He naturally felt that such labor was his duty, and besides, this Emily was now his brother's servant—maybe even his concubine in the future—so escorting her home was all the more his responsibility.

"Sigh, look at you—fine, fine, let's take my sister to the edge of the field, then go find a place to drink!" Samuel Young said with a fawning smile.