Counterfeit Hero

Along the way, watching these unruly men, the Fatty following behind the middle-aged man suddenly showed a lascivious smile. A strange trace of mockery appeared on his honest and submissive fat face.

Many of the Freedom Fighters, who had been laughing and even provocatively looking at the Fatty, stopped their training. They exchanged glances, their faces darkening, and glared fiercely at the Fatty.

The Fatty sighed. He had to admire Russell’s keen perception of people. These Freedom Fighters, who had been locked underground and training desperately for a deadly fight, were highly sensitive and very insecure individuals. They had a conviction of certain death, but their insecurity had twisted their personalities. They would mock any stranger passing by them without restraint, they were united, huddling together for warmth and rejecting any other ethnicity. They allowed themselves to mock others but couldn’t tolerate the slightest bit of others’ ridicule. They tried to place themselves on a moral high ground through fearless sacrifice, but they never realized that this high ground, from which they looked down on others, was no different from how the Vibo people looked down on them.

The rise of one nation usually steps on the fallen bodies of another. These Freedom Fighters only knew their own nation in their minds. They were a different breed of extreme nationalists. Would such a nation become another Vibo Clan in the future?

The Fatty turned his head. He knew that these Freedom Fighters were the most iron-blooded and unafraid of sacrifice, but their iron-bloodedness was based on unbearable insecurity and extreme nationalism. He didn’t know whether it was right or wrong for him to agree to Russell and come here.

Seeing this typical aristocrat-like Fatty avoid their gaze, the Freedom Fighters burst into unrestrained laughter and boos. The middle-aged man clearly noticed this situation and gave the Fatty a complex look, only to find that this pale and chubby Fatty had an indifferent expression, as if he hadn’t heard the mocking laughter at all.

Before a large gate beside the training ground, the middle-aged man stopped. The leaders of the Freedom Front, who had been waiting in the conference room, had already been drawn out by the laughter, so there was no need to take the Fatty inside anymore. The middle-aged man respectfully saluted the three leaders of the Freedom Front and said in a low voice, "The envoy has arrived." An elderly leader, nearly seventy years old, dressed like an old farmer, nodded and smiled slightly at the Fatty, saying, "Welcome, student of Algarfar. I am Songaila, the guide of the First Brigade of the Freedom Front." He gestured to another elder on the left, who smiled and nodded at the Fatty, "This is Yaric, the guide of the Fourth Brigade."

The tall middle-aged man standing on Songaila’s right stepped forward and shook Tian Xingjian’s hand before he could be introduced, saying, "I am Oberto, the guide of the Third Brigade. We have long awaited your arrival, day and night." Tian Xingjian was taken aback and then understood that it was because he was a student of Russell.