Beating Instances through Words Left by the Dead

Chapter 503: Chapter 252: Why Do You Trust Me? (4)

The Brown Clan’s love for firearms led them to want to make a gun of their own, and thus they started the Hymn Company. However, without core technology, they did not become famous in the arms industry.

The arms company’s reputation was ordinary, but the scale of the Brown Farm was second to none, spanning over 750,000 acres. Even without relying on the arms company, it was one of the most prominent families in the state.

But as children of a cowboy family, the parents hoped their children would inherit their cowboy heritage. Their children should be on horseback, not in a tutoring class; they should become captains of the school football or basketball team, not bookworms who always score first in exams.

If Schultz went down there, he would definitely experience some American-style bullying, surrounded by other kids from the family, calling him a bookworm.

He didn’t care about their gaze, but he loathed stupidity, which made him feel physically nauseous.

Every time they saw him vomit, those idiots thought their pranks were working, leading them to escalate their harassment, creating a vicious cycle.

Schultz rubbed his brow, feeling troubled just thinking about it.

Not long after, another little boy who had just learned to walk climbed up to the roof, wobbling towards Schultz.

”Schultz, they’re calling you down.”

Schultz panicked a bit, quickly steadying the child who almost tumbled off the roof, and said urgently, ”Sean, how did you get up here? Why aren’t they watching you?”

Sean hiccuped, releasing a whiff of alcohol-laden fermented wheat, ”They’re drinking. I sneaked out.”

Feeling a bit helpless, Schultz ended his study session, carrying Sean down from the roof.

Among the few peers in the Brown Clan, Sean was one person who didn’t make Schultz feel like vomiting just by being close.

Sean wasn’t traditionally smart, his IQ was above average, but he had strong comprehension skills, and instead of clinging to others, he often stayed with Schultz.

As Schultz predicted, as soon as he appeared, he quickly became the center of attention.

A group of little brats at their annoying age crowded around him, chanting ”bookworm,” competing to see who could make him throw up first. Ultimately, it was Sean who got him out of it.

As Sean stood there, smelling of alcohol, holding a beer in one hand and a revolver he found from somewhere in the other, the world fell silent when he wobbled over to Schultz’s side.

Not only the children but even the adults ran out of the room in fright.

The farm was in chaos for a while.

Sean, holding the revolver, turned to look at the book in Schultz’s hand and laughed as he said:

”Schultz, see, Grandpa wasn’t wrong, this thing is much more useful than books!”

The chaos ended quickly, and it was nighttime.

As devout old Federation folks, the Brown family were fervent believers.

On Christmas Eve, the Brown Clan would hire a priest to lead prayers and hymns.

Schultz didn’t participate, hiding in the study to read. Sean sat beside him, also looking at the book, though his eyelids were drooping, sleepy.

With a bang, the door to the study was kicked open, and Schultz’s parents burst in.

It was the younger generation’s turn to sing hymns, but Schultz was the only one absent. They were furious at Schultz for neglecting God and felt ashamed about it.

They not only scolded Schultz publicly but also grabbed his book and tore it to pieces.

Faced with his father’s anger, looking at the torn books on the ground, Schultz lost control and said the things he often said privately to Sean.

”Compared to something that doesn’t exist, you should respect knowledge and wisdom more.”

What awaited Schultz was, naturally, a thorough beating from both parents.

Half an hour later, Schultz lay on the bed, rubbing his reddened butt, while flipping through a college physics textbook he had hidden earlier, a book also provided by that cousin.

He helped his cousin with homework, and in return, his cousin got him teaching materials. They were an established team.

Next to Schultz, Sean licked some wine from a glass, advising, ”If you’d gotten a revolver like me, you wouldn’t have been beaten so badly earlier.”

Schultz rolled his eyes and fiercely said, ”Sean, one day I’ll prove to everyone that true greatness lies in humanity itself, not in some other existence.”

Sean clapped excitedly beside him.

Schultz asked, ”Do you believe me?”

Sean: ”I believe.”

Schultz: ”Why?”

Sean blinked, hesitating for a moment before saying, ”I don’t know.”

Schultz collapsed onto the bed, deflated, ”You don’t know, yet you still believe.”

Sean replied as if it was obvious, ”Because you’re Schultz. I want to believe.”

Schultz scratched his head, ”Great, now I have to do it just to maintain my image in your mind.”

Sean clapped again from the side.

And so, as time passed, Schultz reached fifteen. With top scores far ahead of the rest, he became a famous prodigy throughout the state, getting early acceptance to the Ma Province Institute of Technology.

On the night before he left the Brown Farm, something happened.