I don't know to what extent I can achieve using the resources of this world.

While Nathaniel Brooks was pondering, Peter King, perhaps feeling the atmosphere wasn't lively enough, raised his wine cup and smiled, saying, "Lord County Duke, you are truly blessed with beauty! When I confiscated the rebel Liu's inner residence, I saw Liu's legitimate wife—what a charming beauty she is! For you to have three beauties all to yourself, we can only envy you!"

Mr. Bennett and David Johnson both laughed, and even the old scholar, the Doctor of Classics Matthew Parker, had a look of ambiguous meaning in his eyes, grinning foolishly.

When drunk, talking about beauties is the norm, and joking about each other's concubines is common, not to mention Liu's three beauties, who have now been demoted to slaves and are no different from objects.

But Nathaniel Brooks's brows furrowed.

Chapter Five: Gambling (Part 2)

Although he hadn't even seen all of these so-called three beauties, from today on, they were considered his people. And with the wine flowing, at the mention of these three beauties, the eyes of these men were all burning with desire.

Nathaniel Brooks couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.

Although he had been a virgin in both his past and present lives, and had barely interacted with women, his sense of male chauvinism was much stronger than these ancient Tang men. In the eyes of many Tang men, friends were like brothers, but concubines and maidservants, aside from the main wife, were just possessions—transferable, giftable.

But Nathaniel Brooks felt that, since in their eyes those three women were his, they were pretty much like his wives. Having Peter King bring them up again and again, stirring up who knows what fantasies in these men's minds, was irritating.

Shrugging, Nathaniel Brooks frowned and said, "Captain King, let's not talk about my household women and slaves. I don't like to hear it." Those who knew him in his previous life would recognize this as a sign that this formidable man was about to erupt.

Peter King laughed it off and said, "My lord, when the wine is flowing and we're drunk, if we don't talk about beauties, what else is there to talk about?"

"You could talk about your own mother!" Nathaniel Brooks replied offhandedly.

Suddenly, the lively clinking and chatter in the room ceased. Everyone stared blankly at Nathaniel Brooks—how did this turn into street insults?

Peter King shot to his feet, slamming the table, his face white with anger. "Nathaniel Brooks! What did you say?!" In his rage, he called out the name directly, clearly never having taken this peasant youth seriously.

As for Nathaniel Brooks being granted a fief, what he knew was as vague as most of the rumors—he just thought the Zhou ruler had fallen into an ambush and died in a hail of arrows, and this peasant boy got lucky, landing the killing shot.

Basically, just dumb luck.

In fact, the Tang emperor's official story was that the Zhou ruler died in an ambush, to save face for the royal succession.

Peter King had always felt sour about this peasant boy's meteoric rise, receiving such great favor and even being granted a fief—utterly baffling.

Looking at him, wrapped in a fox fur, looking like a sickly wretch who could be blown away by a gust of wind—what military merit could he possibly have?

Now, being insulted to his face by Nathaniel Brooks, Peter King couldn't hold back, slamming the table and calling out Nathaniel Brooks's name.

"Peter King, how dare you! You dare address the lord by name?!" David Johnson immediately slammed the table. Although Peter King had a powerful background, he was still a subordinate, and if he didn't speak up now, it would reflect badly on him. Even Mr. Bennett was frowning.

If the young lord doesn't care about etiquette, that's his business—after all, it's rumored he has some hidden illness. But as a seventh-rank official, to shout the name of a county duke more than twenty ranks above you, this could be a big or small matter. If it escalated, he could be sentenced to flogging—dozens of strokes.

Not to mention, this county duke was a new favorite, just having broken precedent to be granted a fief.

Peter King's face turned from green to white, but he knew he might be in serious trouble. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed his frustration and bowed deeply. "My lord, I lost my temper and spoke out of turn. Please forgive me!" He was so stifled he could almost cough up blood.

But rank crushes all. The man across from him outranked him by more than twenty levels—no matter how much he looked down on him, the rules were the rules. What could he do?

Nathaniel Brooks was momentarily stunned, then found it amusing, suddenly appreciating the advantages of this feudal system.

"Forget it," Nathaniel Brooks waved his hand, raised his cup, and smiled. "Come, come, let's drink."

After that, the drinking continued, but no one dared bring up the young lord's concubines or maidservants again. In their hearts, they all thought: it seems this young lord has a strange quirk—he's the jealous type.

Does he have a collecting fetish? If a woman has been with him, no one else is even allowed to talk about her?

Mr. Bennett, David Johnson, and the others all thought to themselves that they must report this detail to their superiors when they returned. In fact, both of them had been tasked with observing the young lord's character and behavior.

Peter King drank gloomily, draining cup after cup, looking like he was about to explode from frustration.

Suddenly, he stood up abruptly.

David Johnson frowned at him, thinking: if you cause more trouble, no matter how powerful your backer is, you might not be able to save yourself!

"The wine is flowing—how about I perform a sword dance for everyone?" Peter King said, then shouted, "Sword!"

At his call, an attendant outside the door ran in, dropped to one knee, and presented his sword with both hands.