The Great Ethan Lee

Chapter 81

Ethan didn't get shot. Instead, diplomat let out a shrill scream, clutching his hand where a bullet had ripped through it. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony.

As confusion swept through the room, dozens of Special Forces soldiers stormed in.

One soldier kicked the diplomat to stop him from grasping the gun, sending him sprawling and silencing his cries. He then confiscated the gun.

General Trump's booming voice echoed through the room. "As long as we soldiers are still breathing, it's not your place to interfere, sonny!"

Ethan cracked a smile as he saw General Trump.

"Master Lee, are you alright?" General Trump asked with concern.

It was none other than Ethan's former student, the formidable General Trump, guardian of the nation's borders.

"What are you doing here?" Ethan asked.

"I was at the Department of Defense headquarters on business." General Trump replied respectfully. "And I heard you were teaching at the Eastern Academy. I couldn't miss the chance to pay my respects."

Ethan chuckled. "Your timing couldn't be better."

The diplomat, his face contorted in rage, spat, "You dared to shoot me? This is an act of war. I'll make you pay!"

General Trump snorted. "An act of war? Soldier, find out what country this clown is from."

"Sir, he's a representative from the Northern Burmese Independent State in Crownspire," the soldier reported.

"Northern Burma? Not too far from my Northern Command." General Trump mused, a sinister smile spreading across his face. "The Northern Burmese Independent State? A bunch of warlords with a ragtag army of a few thousand, if that. I could launch a live-fire exercise tomorrow and wipe you off the map."

The blood drained from the diplomat's face. It was a blatant threat.

He quickly changed his tune. "I apologize, Master Lee! It was our mistake. You were right to discipline your student. You are a true teacher. We are living in your territory, so naturally, we must abide by your rules."

He then barked at the foreign students, "Apologize to Master Lee! Apologize to your fellow students, now!"

Without the embassy to back them, the once-arrogant students were nothing but stray dogs with their tails between their legs. They all hung their heads in shame.

Without the protection of their embassy, these so-called international students amounted to nothing.

Ethan pushed through the crowd and stood before the diplomat. "Do you still need me to apologize?" he asked calmly.

The diplomat hung his head, his face pale. "No… no need. We were wrong."

Ethan nodded. "Good. From now on, you will all obey the laws while you are here. Otherwise, you can't bear the consequences."

He then turned to the foreign students, who trembled under his gaze.

"Idiots," he said coldly. "Get out!"

The students quickly helped their injured comrade to his feet and scurried away.

The other students looked at Ethan with newfound admiration.

Ethan's expression turned stern. "Back to class, all of you! Three math tests today. Nobody goes home until they're finished."

Groans filled the room as the students were herded back to their classroom. The headmaster, his face full of respect, said, "Master Lee, since General Trump is here to see you, why don't you join him in my office for a chat? I'll take over your class for today."

Ethan smiled wryly at the headmaster's deference but didn't refuse.

In the office, Ethan sat at the head of the table while General Trump, like an eager student, recounted his recent accomplishments.

Before Ethan could offer his praise, his phone buzzed. A smile touched his lips.

He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Sophia.

She should be at work now. Why would she suddenly message him?

He opened the message, and the smile vanished from his face.

It was a short video. Sophia was tied to a chair in an unknown location. Her eyes and mouth were covered, and her muffled sobs were the only sound she could manage. Her terrified expression and the disheveled state of her hair spoke volumes about her fear.

July lay unconscious at her feet.

A man then entered the frame and crouched beside Sophia. He ran his hand across her face, his raspy voice laced with a chilling smile. As his hand moved down towards Sophia's neck, the video cut out.

An icy wave of dread washed over Ethan, chilling the room to the bone.

General Trump jumped to his feet; his face etched with concern. "Master, what's wrong?"

Ethan's phone rang. He answered, and a cold voice spoke. "Ethan Lee, did you enjoy the video?"

Ethan's eyes narrowed. 'That voice. Why does it sound so familiar?'

"Maud Moody?" he asked, his voice like ice.

That night, he had clashed with Maud, the bar owner, while trying to save Zora. He hadn't expected the man to actually seek revenge.

Maud chuckled on the other end of the line. "You recognized my voice. It's been a while, punk. You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this. You're the first person who's ever gotten the better of me."

"Get to the point!" Ethan growled. "What do you want?"

"If you want to see your wife and daughter alive again," Maud said, his voice cold and menacing, "come to the abandoned fertilizer plant on John Street, outside the city. Come alone. You have one hour. If you're late, I can't guarantee the safety of your lovely wife. I can't assure you what my buddies might get up to."

The line went dead. Ethan sat motionless, a wave of invisible killing intent radiating from him.

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet.

General Trump stood silently beside him. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew one thing: if Ethan gave the order, he would follow him to hell and back.

After a long silence, Ethan spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Get your men ready. We're going to the abandoned fertilizer plant on John Street!"

A bloodthirsty glint flickered in General Trump's eyes. "As you command."