This is a Joke

On the lawn, two people sat facing each other. A gust of autumn wind blew by, and the bleak autumn atmosphere was like the murderous intent of an assassin. Although it was as warm as spring, it made people feel a chill in their bones.

The Diplomat pulled his coat tighter and fell silent.

Mr. Truman made no attempt to hide his admission that he had done it all, and while it was despicable, it was not hateful.

This is much better than him making a decision and then finding out the truth himself a long time later. An annoying... well, somewhat hateful guy, but not disgusting. This explanation made him feel much better.

At this point, he didn't have many choices left.

Once he returns home, the royal family will definitely target him. Over the years, he has come to know that corrupt and backward country all too well; everyone there wants more power, and no one is willing to listen to any valuable advice.

Nagaril is not weak. This has been his idea ever since he graduated from Gefra. Even after coming to the Federal and indulging in a decadent capitalist lifestyle every day, he has never thought that Nagaril is a weak country.

It may not be technologically advanced enough, but the country has a large population, and population is the potential for development. Unfortunately, the clans within the country are only thinking about their own benefit and are unwilling to listen to his ideas...

Now, he has no more options.

Going back would mean death for him and his family; staying here, on the other hand...

He glanced at Mr. Truman sitting opposite him and got a little angry at the "you have no choice but to surrender" smile on his face.

This impulse led him to do something he hadn't expected: he leaned forward, almost over the table, and beckoned to Mr. Truman, who, thinking the Diplomat had something private to say, also leaned over.

Then... a fist slammed into Mr. Truman's nose, and blood gushed out instantly.

Yes, it was a spurt. It was probably because the discomfort caused by the ruptured blood vessel caused Mr. Truman's lungs to contract in an attempt to expel the "foreign object" from his nasal cavity with airflow. This was an instinctive bodily reaction, which led to the initial nosebleed being a spurt!

He leaned back in his chair, his hands outstretched as he looked at the blood on his hands, arms, and even his trousers.

The surrounding agents had already leaped onto the grass, guns in hand, and quickly approached. If the Diplomat made any further misleading moves, they would not hesitate to open fire.

The Diplomat sat back down, feeling much better. He picked up his coffee cup with the elegance of Gefra, pinching the handle with his little finger as he savored the fragrance of the Flower Tea, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Mr. Truman raised his hand, signaling people to put down their guns and leave the vicinity.

He pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it against his still-bleeding nose, looking at the Diplomat across the table. "You have fewer choices now."

The Diplomat shrugged indifferently, just like Mr. Truman had done before. "Why choose? We'll soon be colleagues, but only if my family appears before me unharmed."

Mr. Truman's first line of the couplet was tinged with a smile, which was the best possible outcome, but he shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, I can't do that, because..."

Under the astonished gaze of the Diplomat, he told the truth, "It's all fake."

"We found your friend and bribed him for just $20,000 and a Federal citizenship. He then forged this telegram and also helped us forge the royal telegram. Actually, your family is doing quite well now."

"Bringing them back rashly would only cause unnecessary unrest and would also be detrimental to you, as your current job is very important."

After hearing what Mr. Truman said, the Diplomat laughed out of anger, "You're a bastard, Mr. Truman!"

He had already made his choice, and he had no right to go back on it. This was why he was both angry and amused—he had actually been fooled by such a despicable trick!

In fact, if he had just waited a few more days, he would have known the truth. If the royal family of the Nagaril United Kingdom really wanted to arrest him, they would have already sent Diplomat to replace him on their way to the Federal, and they would have also sent someone to take him back.

If he waits a few days, three to five days, and no ship arrives, no new Diplomat, and no one who was supposed to arrest him, he will naturally know that these things are fake.

However, it is impossible for a person to be so calm and objective in facing and analyzing the world.

The telegram from his close friend became the straw that convinced him it wasn't a scam. There were probably very few people in the world who knew about his relationship with this close friend, which he considered the most reliable layer of protection.

The contents of the telegram were shocking and appalling, and even though he had a good mental fortitude, he lost his composure.

"How did you find him?" He wasn't really concerned about how much money the other party had received; he was just curious about how Mr. Truman had found that person.

Mr. Truman spoke in a somewhat muffled voice, "We looked into the Nagaril People were also in Gefra during your studies and found several interesting characters, including your friend."

Well, given how seriously the other party is taking this, the Diplomat could only sigh, "What do you want me to do?"

Mr. Truman's expression was somewhat subtle. "It's not 'you,' it's 'us' who's going to do next!"

Three days later, a heavy envelope, inside a sealed letter box, was brought ashore at a coastal port in the Mengwu Province in Nagaril. Escorted by a group of people, the letter box would eventually be delivered to the President, Grand Chieftain and King of the Nagaril United Kingdom.

This is a very complicated title. According to the Nagaril People themselves, they only have Grand Chieftain, not a President or King; those are just titles used by outsiders.

The local clans, though called clans, were originally tribes bound by blood ties. The Provincial Governor was the chief, and the chief of the largest and strongest tribe was the Grand Chieftain.

The title "President" was added to cater to the mainstream international forces; at least "President" sounds more in line with a civilized society than "Chief."

The title of King" was a nominal one that came about after they had consolidated all the resources and established a fixed territory.

In short, discussing this matter is too complicated and there's not much need for it, so let's just continue referring to him as the King.

At the same time, three people and a dog disembarked from the boat.

"Damn, it stinks here! Do the people here never bathe? I can already imagine how greasy they must be!" the woman with the small dog chattered incessantly.

The little dog she was walking, barely bigger than her palm, didn't like the stench either. Dogs have a much stronger sense of smell than humans, and even newcomers find it hard to stand the smell, let alone this little dog from a developed country.

It sneezed and barked wildly, seemingly battling an unseen stench in the air.

The young man who disembarked also looked disgusted. His disgust was different from the others; he was disgusted that his dead father, Simon, had chosen to settle here after abandoning them, and had married a smelly woman from this place and fathered a smelly son. He was indeed an incomprehensible man.

As for the lawyers who came down last, they didn't seem to be affected by what happened here.

"Don't you think it smells bad here?" the woman couldn't help but ask, looking at his beaming smile.

"Smells bad?" The lawyer was somewhat surprised. "Of course, it does smell bad here, but as a professional lawyer, I should also demonstrate absolute professionalism in front of my client!"

Forget about the smell; as long as the money is right, he'd eat anything, even shit.

He calculated that the 40% legal fees, based on what his employers said, would amount to at least 200,000 to 300,000 fras. This amount would be enough for him to rest for a long time. Even if he lost the case, he would still receive 12% of the fees, which would be around 40,000 fras. He had absolutely no reason not to smile.

That's the advantage of being a lawyer, especially a divorce lawyer or estate lawyer.

Regardless of winning or losing, a lot of money will come in.

"Where do we go now?" the woman asked, covering her mouth and nose. "It stinks here!"

"Let's go to the local judicial authorities first. We need to understand the local inheritance law first, and then it would be best if we could..." He looked around, "And get help from some capable local people. If someone is willing to speak up for us, then things will be much easier."

"Capable people?" Simon's son repeated, though he didn't quite understand what the sentence meant.

Over the years, he has only learned how to lose money, but has not gained any experience from those losses.

The lawyer forced a smile again. "Yes, some of Simon's wealthy friends and political friends can help us."

"I don't know if you've ever heard this saying!" he said, uttering a cautionary tale with a tone imbued with a particular emotion, "The outcome of a battle never truly happens outside the courtroom!"

"This is what we need..."

The group quickly disappeared into the streets of Nagaril. No one knew whether they would be able to achieve their goal; perhaps they would, perhaps they wouldn't.

With the arrival of November, the hot weather in Nagaril finally began to cool down, with daily highs of around 30 degrees Celsius dropping to 24 or 25 degrees Celsius, making everything more pleasant.

Sitting in the room, Lin Qi listened to Asier's report.

During this time, he had traveled all over the area around Mengwu Province. He was not harmed during this turmoil, and his status as a local effectively prevented him from becoming a target for some people.

This was a very new experience for him. You know, when he heard the Protector of the People shouting "Expel foreigners" or "Kill foreigners" as they rushed toward the hotel, he almost peed himself.

But as people rushed past him, he realized that he was Nagaril People.