Luke Yates was carried around like a puppy, attracting a lot of attention.
"Grand Secretary Lowe," Braydon Neal said before he left, "Luke is naughty. Please teach him some manners in the future."
"How would I dare to do that!" Dominic Lowe smiled embarrassedly.
Braydon's eyes were like lightning, and his expression turned cold. "The elites of the Northern Army grew up in the desolate land of the northern desert. They are country children who have not seen the world and do not understand the etiquette of the capital. If they have nothing to do, I would like to trouble you to teach them!"
"I, I…"
Dominic gulped. He was not a fool. The more Braydon spoke, the more Dominic felt that something was wrong. He quietly retreated, turned around, and ran.
He had to run!
If he did not run, he would probably be beaten up.
Bang!
