The Shadow of Great Britain

543: Chapter 282: Contraband Inspector 543: Chapter 282: Contraband Inspector On the endless seaside plain where one could not see the end, the grass was emerald green, and a gentle breeze brushed past, pushing down the tall grass and revealing flocks of sheep in the distant pastures, leisurely grazing like clouds.

Suddenly, from afar came a series of loud clanging noises.

The sheep, which had been at ease moments ago, were startled by this sudden noise, scrambling in panic, and with a sharp whistle, the sheep’s anxiety peaked instantly.

They anxiously stared at the pitch-dark cave where they couldn’t see their hands in front of them.

Since last year, such terrifying hellish sounds had been emitting from there several times a day.

Every sheep that had grown up in Liverpool knew that the appearance of such sounds meant that the arrival of the steel dragon was not far off.

Sure enough, accompanied by the piercing steam whistle that tore through the silence, thick white steam burst forth from the dark cave.

Following that, the sheep saw the completely black steel dragon break through the smokescreen like a wild horse that had thrown its reins, revealing its barrel-like robust body and countless round-wheeled legs.

And inside its belly, numerous upright apes were ‘panicking,’ pounding on its transparent belly as if they were signaling the sheep for help.

Fearful Mr.

Sheep lay down on the grass, faces deformed by fear flashing quickly before its eyes, and its ears filled with successive hoarse cries of alarm.

As an upright and well-mannered English sheep, it indeed wanted to rescue these upright apes.

But reason told it that opposing the steel dragon would end badly.

Last month, its little wife had been so terrified by the steam whistle that she couldn’t move, rigidly frozen in the inevitable path of the great dragon, and ended up being torn to pieces.

Mr.

Sheep could only silently think: “Dear upright apes, you better wish for your own luck.

I do not have the courage to oppose such a fierce creature.”

Mr.

Sheep silently watched this pitiable bunch being dragged away by the great dragon when suddenly, he spotted among the terrified crowd a gentleman wearing a wide-brimmed hat, holding a newspaper, and calmly smoking.

Seeing this, Mr Sheep could only lament, “Poor little guy, he must have been scared silly, just like my little wife who got torn apart.

Look, he doesn’t even have the energy to scream in fear.”

However, just as he was praying for the gentleman, Mr.

Sheep suddenly noticed a red face that was so squashed it almost covered the entire window appearing in front of the car window.

It was a fellow with horns on its head just like him, but worse, he was quite rude.

The Red Devil gave the sheep the finger, widened his eyes, and exclaimed, “Sheep?

I hate sheep!”

Arthur glanced at the Red Devil and took a puff of his cigarette before asking, “Hate sheep?

Why?

Just because Jesus said, ‘I am the good shepherd, I know my sheep, and my sheep know me’?”

Agares turned around and roared, “Exactly, these sheep are all shameless creatures.”

Arthur turned the page of the newspaper: “But the ‘Bible’ doesn’t always speak well of sheep.

I remember in some religious stories, it is also said that sheep would play the panpipes to lure young men and women into their traps, right?”

The Red Devil banged on the table: “Arthur, you need to be clear.

It’s goats that lure maidens, but we’re discussing sheep now.

Sheep are promoted for their gentle and obedient nature, while goats have horns, are temperamental, and like to argue, so they always have a negative image in mythology.”

Arthur tapped out the ash in his pipe: “So, you’re a goat too?

And not just any goat, but a goat that even Hell acknowledges.

After all, you don’t only have issues with God, but even Baal doesn’t get along with you.”

Agares raised an eyebrow, his eyes nearly touching Arthur’s nose: “What?

Do you have a problem with that?”

Arthur dropped a sugar cube into his teacup and stirred it: “Agares, I’m not belittling you but praising you.

How can you, a devil, not distinguish between good and bad?

Goat, GOAT, do you know what that stands for?

Greatest Of All Time!

The best devil in history.

Baal is nothing compared to you, you’re truly the most authentic creature in Hell.

Isn’t Hell touted as the rebel of Heaven?

And you, my friend, you’re even rebelling against Hell itself.

Could any other devil possibly be stronger than you?”

Agares, finally appeased by these words, slowly relaxed and sat on the windowsill with his legs crossed: “Consider yourself savvy, kid.

Since you understand things so well, I’ll give you a little advice for your trip to Liverpool, do you want to hear it?”

Arthur, distractedly responding, didn’t even shift his gaze: “If it’s just friendly chit-chat, I don’t mind hearing more advice from a friend.

But if it’s business, we better draft a contract.

But honestly, Agares, I hate doing business with friends, it affects our pure friendship.”

The Red Devil, hearing this, just shook his head and sighed with a pinch at his brow: “Arthur, you little rascal, making a benefit sound so appealing.

As a punishment for your slick tricks, I’ll just say this.

You’ve been reading Hume’s books lately, that’s good, certainly better than reading Kant.”