Blackstone Code-Chapter 506: Impulsive People Are Easier to Use

The dog wasn’t dead yet, but it was close.
A small ornamental dog like Moncy doesn’t fit natural evolutionary rules at all. It was artificially bred purely to satisfy some people’s particular fetishes.
People like these little creatures—puppies, kittens, ponies, baby elephants—not just children, but those who want pets that can be spoiled anytime, anywhere, and are easy to carry when going out.
They don’t want large hunting dogs that can fight wild boars alone or lions in groups, dogs so fierce they sometimes intimidate their own owners.
Thus, small ornamental dogs came into being. With merchants pushing and hyping them, in high society circles, if a lady couldn’t be seen walking a small dog with a pedigree certificate more rigorously screened than humans’, she was considered a fake socialite.
From the day it was born, no thought was given to facing this cruel world and harsh nature. Its ribs, barely thicker than chicken bones, were not as hard as bird bones.
One kick from Jardon made it convulse and vomit blood.
Blood slowly trickled from the puppy’s mouth and nose. Its body kept twitching and struggling, its screams piercing. Seeing this little darling, Simon’s first wife was heartbroken.
“Oh my God, my Moncy, how could you do this to my Moncy!” she wailed, crying as if she had lost a family member.
She hadn’t shed a tear when Simon died, only thinking of how to make one last profit, but now her puppy was dying, and tears truly fell.
Her son angrily rushed at Jardon but was kicked back. Jardon coldly stared at them with a particularly indifferent expression. “Get out of my house. I don’t want to see you again.”
Jardon didn’t realize that at this moment, in some ways, he resembled his father, Simon.
He turned and walked into the house, ordering, “Have them kicked out. If they dare to come back, beat them away!”
At first, when Jardon heard the news of this mother and son arriving, he had some feelings, some other thoughts.
They were relatives, but unexpectedly, once here, they demanded all the inheritance. All his good intentions shattered into pieces.
His heart no longer held any desire, only coldness, the same coldness as Simon.
“Please, you two aren’t welcome here,” the butler said politely. If not for the two workers behind him holding shovels, Simon’s wife and son might have kept causing a scene.
The puppy Moncy finally stopped breathing in her arms after struggling. Jardon’s kick shattered its already fragile ribs, piercing the organs.
From the moment blood spilled from its mouth and nose, it was already doomed. What remained was just its last struggle.
Ignoring the bloodstains, Simon’s wife hugged the puppy and cried out loud. Her son supported her and glanced back fiercely at his half-brother entering the house, his eyes showing a deadly intent never seen before.
In this foreign land, he suddenly awakened something that had never stirred within him before.
As they were about to leave the yard, he noticed a tombstone. He sneered in his heart at these natives’ ignorance—they didn’t understand basic customs. The dead should never be buried in the front yard.
Common wisdom says the front yard is busy with foot traffic, weeding, and lawn maintenance, disturbing the eternal rest of the deceased—an utmost disrespect to ancestors.
Only a quiet backyard is fit for the ancestors’ eternal sleep. Almost everyone in the world follows this, but here, uncultured locals bury the dead in the front yard.
Perhaps fueled by hatred and anger, he kicked the tombstone violently.
The front yard soil wasn’t compacted; sometimes gardeners would deliberately loosen it to ease garden care.
His powerful kick made the already unstable tombstone slowly topple.
The butler and workers were stunned, even forgetting to demand an explanation. The son probably realized how malicious his act was, so they quickly left the yard and got into their rented old car.
Through the car window, the son stuck his head out, waving his fist and shouting loudly, “We won’t let you off! Just wait!”
After watching the mother and son leave, the butler slowly walked to the tombstone. He set it upright again, not caring that it was covered in dirt and grass. He carefully wiped it clean.
To the butler, his relationship with Master Simon was complicated. If Simon hadn’t personally chosen him, his family might still be struggling to survive.
He was grateful to Simon for giving him a decent job. Being a foreigner’s butler in Nagaryll was a prestigious position.
It allowed his family a good life, and even his grandson had a chance for education, so he was always thankful to Simon.
If not for…
He sighed, staring at the restored tombstone for a few seconds before turning back inside.
Before returning, he ordered the workers to watch the yard carefully these days and not let anyone in casually. If someone forced their way, they were to be driven out by force.
Inside, Jardon was drinking. He rarely drank before because Simon didn’t like alcohol, and the locals, being poor, hadn’t developed a drinking habit except in social situations. But after Simon’s death, Jardon began to drink—moderately but regularly. It became his new hobby.
Holding a glass on the sofa, he wore a thoughtful expression. Hearing the butler’s footsteps, he looked up. “Contact… that gentleman.”
This gentleman was Akumari, a young provincial leader’s subordinate known for impulsiveness.
Since interacting with them, Jardon had started to adapt to his new identity—and was doing well.
He had keenly learned each person’s traits. This official was very impulsive, with strong likes and dislikes—in other words, easily manipulated. Just point them in a direction, and they would charge ahead.
The butler nodded slightly. “You want me to contact Mr. Akumari?”
He asked politely, as bypassing the top leader to contact a subordinate might feel inappropriate.
Jardon shook his head. “Contacting him directly won’t achieve what I want. Do as I say—invite him for dinner.”
The butler left to arrange it. Jardon stayed on the sofa, still thinking. He noticed the dangerous gleam in his brother’s eyes when he left.
He roughly guessed what the disappointing mother and son would do next: seek help from the Federation. It was indeed troublesome.
The Joint Development Company was already asserting its dominance. Under its push, even Valier was said to be rising in value. The company was too powerful and terrifying.
Some might think a big company wouldn’t notice a small player like Jardon, but the problem was this was a sensitive time.
The unrest had just ended. Foreigners had just undergone a purge. No matter what that strange purge was about, if news spread that
locals were seizing foreigners’ inheritance and expelling legitimate heirs
, it would cause an uproar.
Even if the Federation showed no interest in the matter, local rulers who tried to anticipate the Federation’s stance would naturally side with the mother and son to appease both foreigners and the Federation.
Simon’s death gave Jardon significant real power but severed his last ties to high society. He didn’t know the newly appointed mayor, the new police chief, nor major figures like Lynch or the Magulana governor, so he couldn’t rely on them to speak for him.
But the mother and son could. Their foreign identity was extremely useful at this sensitive time. Had it been earlier or later, Jardon wouldn’t worry, but now the situation was too delicate.
He hadn’t wanted to take this path. He glanced at a shelf displaying memorabilia, where a photo of him and Simon was kept.
Simon’s arrogant face showed impatience, while Jardon, cautiously standing beside him, wore a rare, genuine smile of happiness.
Back then, he surely didn’t know that the one who would ultimately inherit everything was the son he disliked and didn’t even acknowledge.
He raised his glass, emptied it in one gulp, his gaze resolute.
“I will prove I’m the most suitable heir!”
A little later, the unnamed Youth Party official arrived at Jardon’s house with two companions.
Jardon didn’t like these Youth Party people much—calling them hooligans was more fitting. He knew well that bringing two men wasn’t for protection or any practical purpose, but just to flaunt their connection and get a free meal.
Jardon showed no displeasure. With a warm smile, he welcomed the three into the room.