A More Impulsive Person Is Easier to Use

The dog isn't dead, but it's probably dying soon.

Small ornamental dogs like the Monsieur do not conform to the natural rules of evolution at all; they are artificially bred purely to satisfy certain special preferences of some people.

People love these little creatures—dogs, cats, ponies, elephants—and children, so they especially want companion pets that can cuddle with them anytime, anywhere, and that are easy to take with them when they go out.

What they need are not the kind of large hunting dogs that can fight wild boars alone, are not afraid of lions when trained together in groups of three or five, and whose owners sometimes feel threatened.

Thus, this type of small show dog came into being. With the promotion and hype from businessmen, in Upper Class, if a lady could not walk a small show dog with a pedigree certificate that was more stringent than the human bloodline selection mechanism, she would definitely be a fake socialite.

From the day it was born, it never considered facing this cruel world and cruel nature. Its ribs, which are not much thicker than chicken bones, are not as hard as bird bones.

Gardon's kick caused it to convulse and vomit blood.

Blood slowly flowed from the puppy's mouth and nose. The puppy's body convulsed and struggled, and its screams were extremely piercing. Seeing this adorable little thing Simon's first wife was heartbroken!

"Oh my God, my Monsie, how could you do this to my Monsie!" she wailed, as if a loved one had died!

You know, she didn't shed a single tear when the news of Simon's death came; all she could think about was how to make one last profit. But now that one of her little dogs had died, she actually shed tears.

His son angrily charged at Gardon, only to be kicked back by Gardon. He stared coldly at the two men, his expression exceptionally indifferent. "Get out of my house. I don't want to see you again."

Gardon was unaware that, at this moment, he resembled his father Simon, in some ways.

As he spoke, he turned and walked toward the house, ordering as he went, "Have them thrown out. If they dare to break in again, beat them up!"

When Gardon first heard the news that the mother and son had come here, he was somewhat moved and had some other thoughts.

These two people were his relatives, but he never expected that when they came, they would ask him to give up all his inheritance. All his good ideas were smashed to pieces.

There was no longer any longing in his heart, only indifference, the indifference of Simon.

"Please, gentlemen, you are not welcome here," the butler said politely. If it weren't for the two helpers behind him carrying shovels, Simon's wife and children might have continued their outburst.

The little dog Monsie in Mrs. Simon's arms finally stopped breathing while struggling. Gardon kicked it, shattering its already weak ribs, which then pierced its internal organs.

From the moment blood began to flow from its mouth and nose, it was already beyond saving; all that remained was its final struggle.

Ignoring the bloodstains, Mrs. Simon hugged the puppy and burst into tears. Her son supported her, glancing back fiercely at his half-brother who was walking into the house, his eyes revealing a murderous intent he had never shown before.

In this foreign land, he suddenly awakened to something he had never been awakened to before.

As he was about to leave the courtyard, he noticed a tombstone. He scoffed inwardly at the idea that the Natives were just Natives, not even understanding the most basic customs, and that the deceased should not be buried in the front yard at all.

In some common parlance, people constantly walking around the front yard, weeding, and laying turf prevent the deceased from finding peace, which is considered the greatest disrespect to their ancestors.

Only the quiet backyard is the resting place of ancestors, and almost everyone in the world does this. Only the uncultured Natives here bury their deceased in the front yard.

Perhaps fueled by hatred and anger, he kicked the tombstone as if to vent his frustration.

The soil in the front yard is not compacted; sometimes the gardener will even loosen the soil with small tools to make gardening management easier.

Simon's son's kick was so powerful that it caused the already unstable tombstone to slowly topple over.

The butler and his helpers were stunned for a moment, and even forgot to chase after them to demand an explanation. Perhaps Simon's son also realized how serious the nature of his actions was, and they quickly left the yard and got into their rented dilapidated car.

Through the car window, Simon's son stuck his head out, waving his fist and shouting, "We won't let you get away with this! Just you wait!"

After watching the mother and son leave, the butler slowly walked to the tombstone. He lifted the tombstone, not caring that it was covered in mud and grass when it fell, and carefully wiped it clean with his hands, bit by bit.

For the butler, the "relationship" between him and Master Simon was very complicated. If Master Simon hadn't chosen him at first glance, he and his family might still be living a precarious life.

He was very grateful to Master Simon for giving him the opportunity to have a respectable job, which was a very, very respectable job for foreigners in Nagaril.

This allowed his family to enjoy a good life, and even his grandson had the opportunity to receive an education, so he was always very grateful to Mr. Simon.

If not...

He sighed, looked at the tombstone that had been straightened, paused for a few seconds, and then turned and went back into the room.

Before returning, he instructed the helpers to keep a close watch on the yard for the next few days and not to let anyone in casually. If anyone forced their way in, they could be beaten out.

When he returned to his room, Gardon was drinking. He rarely drank before, because Simon was not a big drinker, and the locals had not developed a drinking habit due to poverty. Apart from social occasions, Gardon rarely drank.

But everything changed with Simon's passing. Gardon began to drink, not much, but frequently and often, and a little drinking became his new hobby.

He sat on the sofa, a wine glass in his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face. Hearing the butler's footsteps, he looked up at the butler and said, "Contact... sir for me."

This gentleman is Akumali, an officer working for the short-statured Youth Party Leader, an impulsive officer.

Since coming into contact with these people, Gardon has gradually adapted to his new identity and is doing quite well.

He astutely discerned the personality traits of each of these people. This cadre was extremely impulsive and had a strong sense of love and hate. In other words, such people were easy to manipulate; as long as they were given a direction, they would rush headlong into it.

The butler nodded slightly. "Should we contact Mr. Akumali?"

The butler meant well by asking, but if he bypassed the top leader to contact the lower-level cadres, it would always feel a bit... inappropriate.

Gardon shook his head. "Contacting him won't achieve what I want. Do as I say and invite him to dinner."

While the butler left to do this, Gardon was still sitting on the sofa thinking. He noticed the dangerous glint in his brother's eyes as he left.

He roughly knew what this disappointing mother and son would do; they would simply seek help from the Federal, which was, to say the least, a troublesome matter.

The United Development Company has begun to demonstrate its dominance. Under United Development Company influence, even the Galil is said to be appreciating in value. This company is too powerful, too terrifying.

Some might think that such a Grand Duke wouldn't notice someone as insignificant as Gardon, but the problem is that this is a sensitive time.

The turmoil had just ended, and foreigners had just undergone a round of purges. Regardless of what exactly this rather bizarre purge targeting foreigners was all about, the news that "Natives were seizing foreigners' inheritances and driving out their legal heirs" was bound to cause a huge uproar once it broke.

Even if the Federal people are not interested in this matter, the local authorities who know how to read the Federal people's minds will spontaneously side with the mother and son in order to appease the emotions of foreigners and Federal people.

While Simon's death certainly granted Gardon a lot of real power, it also severed Gardon's last connection with Upper Class. He didn't know the newly appointed mayor, the newly appointed Police Chief, or any big names like Lin Qi or the Provincial Governor Drag, so naturally he couldn't get these people to speak for him.

But the mother and son could, their foreign status was too useful at this time. Gardon wouldn't have worried about anything if it had been a little earlier or later, but now it's too sensitive.

He hadn't intended to do this; he turned his head to look at the shelf used to display souvenirs, one of which contained a photograph of him and Simon.

Simon's arrogant face was filled with impatience, while I, on the other hand, cautiously revealed a rare smile full of happiness.

At that time, he certainly didn't know that the one who would ultimately inherit everything from him was his own son, whom he disliked the most and didn't even acknowledge!

He picked up his glass, downed the wine in one gulp, and his eyes were exceptionally resolute.

"I will prove that I am the most suitable one!"

A little later,... this nameless Youth Party cadre arrived at Gardon's house with two younger brothers.

In fact, Gardon didn't like these Youth Party either; calling them hooligans would be more accurate. He knew very well that bringing these two people wasn't for safety or any other purpose, but simply to show off his relationship with them and to freeload a meal.

Gardon showed no displeasure or annoyance; he greeted the three with a warm smile and ushered them into the room...