“Ding”—with a clear ring, Peter King drew his long sword. The blade was as pure as water; even Mr. Bennett, a true man of letters, couldn’t help but secretly admire such a fine sword.

David Johnson knew that this Peter King was skilled in martial arts. He’d heard that his swordsmanship was quite remarkable, though he’d never seen it with his own eyes.

Although the current dynasty had begun to value civil officials over military ones, many officials still harbored the heroic spirit of achieving merit with a three-foot sword, admiring the lingering legacy of Tang knights who “rode white horses with silver saddles, swift as shooting stars.”

Peter King flicked his long sword and laughed, “Let the sword add to the merriment! Let’s raise the stakes—I'll wager the two Silla maids from my residence. Is anyone willing to spar with me?” With the sword in hand, he seemed to have regained his confidence.

His gaze swept over Matthew Parker and the other timid county clerks standing nearby, and he called out loudly, “Is there anyone among you willing to bet against me?”

No one made a sound. When his gaze fell upon the clerks of Donghai County, they all lowered their heads.

“Really, your Donghai has no talent at all!” Peter King shook his head disdainfully.

Nathaniel Brooks frowned slightly. Although he wanted to keep a low profile, he had just been granted a fief, and it was supposedly for some military merit. Yet here he was, being humiliated in Donghai—this was simply unacceptable.

How could he, as the lord of this land, maintain any dignity in the future?

He smiled. “Perhaps Captain King’s wager isn’t tempting enough. In this county, we have Silla Lane and Silla Village, both places where Silla people gather. What’s so special about Silla maids?”

Nathaniel Brooks turned to the clerks and smiled, “Am I right?”

Some didn’t dare to speak, but a few bold ones thought, why flatter an outsider instead of our own lord?

“The lord is right!”

“His Excellency is wise!”

“If the lord takes the field, even a thousand Captain King wouldn’t be a match! Even ten thousand Silla maids would lose!” The last to shout, in a shrill voice, was Henry Clark. His face was swollen like a pig’s head, but he showed his loyalty without caring about the outsider’s feelings. His own life was at stake—he just hoped the lord would spare him a little longer.

Peter King was so angry his face turned pale. He looked at Nathaniel Brooks: “Lord of Donghai, what wager would make you willing to compete?”

“Let’s make it ten thousand Silla maids. If I lose, the county’s ten years of tax revenue will be yours!” Nathaniel Brooks said carelessly, then turned to the clerks again, “With such a bet, am I at a loss?”

Henry Clark hurried to flatter him: “If they’re talented Silla maids, each is worth a hundred gold coins. For ordinary ones, at an average of thirty strings of cash each, ten thousand would be three hundred thousand strings. Our county is a top county, with abundant tax revenue. Last year, the spring and autumn taxes plus the salt tax totaled over eighty thousand strings. So, Your Excellency, you’re at a great loss.”

Actually, the county’s Haizhou tea was also a famous product, but since the three islands in the sea produced little and supplied only the royal family, the tea tax was negligible.

The main special tax was the salt tax.

Donghai was rich in fish and salt, producing over two hundred thousand dan a year. Of the eighty thousand strings in tax revenue, the salt tax alone accounted for over forty thousand. With both sea and river transport convenient, a special salt and iron commissioner was appointed to monopolize all salt transactions, selling at a high price to outside merchants—the difference being the salt tax, which had nothing to do with Donghai County itself, as all proceeds went directly to the national treasury.

The remaining thirty thousand or so strings were divided into thirds: two-thirds to the national treasury, one-third to the prefecture. Of course, the prefecture would allocate some back to pay county officials and for various public works.

Now, all eighty thousand strings of tax revenue belonged to the Lord of Donghai. Clearly, the emperor had bestowed great wealth upon him.

Hearing how much tax revenue Donghai County had, Nathaniel Brooks was momentarily stunned, then smiled: “A loss is a loss! I’m not afraid of losing!” He looked at Peter King, “If you don’t have ten thousand Silla maids, then thirty thousand strings of cash as the wager. If I lose, the county’s ten years of tax revenue is yours! How about it?”

Seeing that even the county clerks were calculating the value for fun, Peter King was so angry he wanted to cut down these lunatics with his sword.

But Nathaniel Brooks’s words made his heart skip a beat—three hundred thousand strings?

He’d never seen so much money in his life.

Donghai had always been a wealthy county. Would this little lord Nathaniel Brooks really have an annual income of over a hundred thousand strings just by sitting back?

So, he seemed not to care about such a huge wager at all.

Wasn’t this just throwing money at him?

But he was just a small-time farmer who had suddenly risen to power—where did he get such courage and nonchalance? To casually name a wager of three hundred thousand strings?

Mr. Bennett and David Johnson were both secretly amazed.

After all, class mentality couldn’t be changed overnight; a noble’s mindset would take generations to form.

But this Little Lord Brooks acted as if he regarded wealth as dirt, as if he’d been born to the upper class for generations.

Mr. Bennett and David Johnson both had the same thought: indeed, to be granted a fief and a title is not so simple. This Little Lord Brooks must have a world of his own in his heart.

They also wondered, with such a bold wager, what would the emperor think if word reached the capital?