Blackstone Code-Chapter 507: You Won’t Understand If You Don’t Raise a Dog

A variety of exquisite dishes appeared on the table, making the unnamed, hot-tempered cadre look impressive in front of his subordinates. This increased his favor toward Jardon.
With some alcohol helping, he soon felt that Jardon was his closest ally because Jardon understood him and shared certain sentiments. He even began to suspect he might be Simon’s son—otherwise, why would he and Jardon get along so well?
Most members of the Youth Party were uneducated, including this cadre. Many young people joined during a period of social rebellion; they refused to follow their parents’ old paths and wanted to resist but felt lost.
The Youth Party offered them a new direction, attracting their membership. These rebellious youths, often called troublemakers, didn’t necessarily have special talents; they simply felt their fate was unfair or that they were better than others and more likely to succeed.
They were restless, bold, and courageous—qualities they used to rebel against reality.
Jardon’s careful arrangements pleased the cadre greatly. He felt valued and believed his long-sought success was within reach.
“See? Even the wealthy respect me now. How great must I be—better than them?”
Life is full of challenges, and the hardest is self-delusion.
Jardon sighed, surprising the cadre, who laughed and said, “Why sigh? I thought only poor people did that. You have such a big house…” He exaggeratedly gestured the size, then added, “and all this delicious food. Why would you sigh?”
Jardon frowned briefly but soon smiled and said, “Never mind, I won’t trouble you with it.”
The cadre’s cheerful face turned cold. He frowned and asked, “Do you look down on me?”
“I shared my joys and sorrows with you. Now you won’t tell me what’s troubling you or share it. Do you think I can’t help, or did you never respect me from the start?”
Jardon hesitated, “It’s family matters. I didn’t want to mention them because foreigners are involved…”
Hearing
foreigners
angered the impulsive cadre, especially after some drinks.
Whatever the cause of the recent turmoil, it ended abruptly, and it seemed the whole world blamed the Youth Party, pushing responsibilities onto them that weren’t theirs. Now the Youth Party in Magulana Province had fragmented.
This angered the cadre, who felt the foreigners were responsible. They had persecuted Nagaryll and its people and were now breaking apart the Youth Party—the
home
of most awakened young people. He hated these foreigners.
He slowly stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Looking at Jardon, he said deliberately, “If you still consider me a friend, share everything about these foreigners and their troubles with you.”
“If not, you can keep quiet, but I’ll leave immediately.” He glanced at his two assistants.
The two, caught mid-meal, paused and put down their food, showing solidarity with their leader.
At this point, Jardon had no better option. With a slight choke in his voice, he revealed his situation.
Simon’s widow and son wanted to take everything from him—factories, houses, money, everything.
The cadre grew angry. “You should tell them you’re under Youth Party’s protection!”
That might have been safe to say before, but now it would be deadly. Jardon didn’t speak further, just sighed, “If it can’t be helped, let them have it all. I believe with my own hands I can support myself and my mother, even if I don’t become as rich as my father.”
The cadre paused. This wasn’t just Jardon’s problem anymore—it involved his industries too.
Some Youth Party members had already started working for Jardon, part of the party’s strategy to attract followers.
Joining the Youth Party meant steady work, which was far more appealing than hiding in the jungle suffering. This helped stabilize the party internally.
If foreigners took these assets away and planned to leave with the money, it meant a split from the Youth Party.
Such a thing was unacceptable for the passionate youth of Nagaryll.
After a moment’s thought, the cadre confidently promised, “I’ll handle this for you.”
Jardon, half-resigned, replied, “You won’t. They’re foreigners. Nagaryll is almost their domain now, unless you…”
“That’s too risky. Leave it to me,” the cadre interrupted.
He glanced at Jardon silently, said nothing more, and resumed eating.
After more than half an hour, the cadre left with his two men without lingering.
Watching them go, Jardon’s worry turned to calm.
The butler asked, “Master, will they really assassinate that mother and son?”
“Yes,” Jardon nodded, then smiled at the butler’s doubt. “These people are sensitive, like I once was. To prove I was worthy to my father, I’d do anything.”
“They’re the same now. To send a message—that they’re serious, not playing around—they have to act.”
“And they have reasons they can’t ignore.”
Jardon turned and walked inside, saying, “If they don’t help me solve this, I have no reason to support them, and neither do others.”
“Without support from people like us rich folks, they…” He shook his head, stopped at the door, and the butler opened it. Stepping onto the floor locals couldn’t afford, he said with a trace of pride, “…will never achieve anything great.”
Elsewhere, the impulsive cadre dismissed his two men. He saw their low spirits and understood.
After hearing those things at dinner with no clear stance from him, they had underestimated him and the Youth Party. But he believed soon they’d respect him again.
He planned to do something big alone—eliminate the mother and son threatening Jardon.
It wasn’t entirely an impulse. It was partly arrogance, partly hatred and disgust for the foreigners.
The earliest Youth Party members were indoctrinated with the idea that
foreigners must die
. They believed foreigners had no place in Nagaryll and expected things to improve.
Hatred for foreigners, ambition, arrogance—these drove his impulsive decision.He returned alone to the jungle base outside the city, retrieved a handgun and a dozen bullets from a hidden spot.
These were police-issued pistols; during the recent unrest, some had obtained several from unknown sources, which now came in handy.
Meanwhile, the mother and son, back at the hotel with their lawyer, were discussing their next steps.
Jardon’s refusal left them no choice but to rely on litigation; it seemed the only way to reclaim their rightful inheritance was through a lawsuit.
“I’ve learned that if you can secure a meeting with Mr. Lynch and get his approval—even just a word—no one can stop you from recovering Simon’s estate.”
Of course, including my share! The lawyer thought silently, running around for that very reason—money.
Simon’s wife sat dazed on the sofa, utterly drained of spirit.
After Moncy was injured, she brought him to the only local veterinary hospital. Despite the doctors’ efforts, Moncy could not be saved.
To avoid complications, she chose cremation. She planned to take Moncy back home rather than bury him here.
Now she clutched a small, ornate urn no bigger than a child’s fist, containing Moncy’s ashes.
Without Moncy, life had lost all color. Whatever the lawyer said, she neither cared nor wanted to listen.