The dog is not dead, but it should be dying soon.

Small ornamental dogs like the ones from Mengxi don't conform to the natural rules of evolution at all; they are purely bred artificially to satisfy certain peculiar preferences of some people.

People like these little things—puppies, kittens, ponies, baby elephants, except for children—so they prefer pets that can offer companionship, pamper them whenever they want, and be easy to take out.

They don't need those lone hunters that can tackle wild boars, stand fearlessly with a pack against lions, or threaten their masters at times—large hounds.

Thus, ornamental miniature dogs appeared at the right moment. With the merchants' promotion and hype, if a lady in the upper-class social circles can't lead one of these dogs with a pedigree certificate more stringent than human lineage filtering mechanisms, she must be a fake socialite.

From the day it was born, it never was meant to face this cruel world and ruthless nature. Its ribs, not much thicker than chicken bones, aren't even as hard as bird bones.

With just one kick from Gadon, it started convulsing and vomiting blood.

Blood slowly flowed from the little dog's mouth and nose as its body convulsed continuously, struggling, and its screams were shrill. Watching this little guy, Simon's first wife felt her heart was about to break!

"Oh heavens, my Mengxi, how could you do this to my Mengxi!" She wailed, as if mourning a family member's death!

Mind you, when she received news of Mr. Simon's death, she didn't shed a single tear, her mind filled with thoughts of how to make a final grab. But now, with her dog dead, she really shed tears.

His son angrily rushed towards Gadon but was kicked back by him again. Gadon coldly watched these two people with an especially indifferent expression, "Get out of my house, I don't want to see you anymore."

Little did Gadon know, at this point, he bore a striking resemblance to his father, Mr. Simon.

Saying this, he turned and walked toward the house while instructing, "Have them thrown out, and if they dare break in again, just beat them out!"

Initially, when Gadon first heard the news of these two visiting, he felt more emotional, had other thoughts.

These two individuals counted as his relatives, but unexpectedly, as soon as they arrived, they demanded he hand over all the inheritance. All the fond thoughts fell on the ground, shattered into pieces.

Inside him was no longer a trace of desire, only indifference, like Mr. Simon's indifference.

"Please, both of you, you are not welcome here," The butler stood courteously. If it weren't for the two workers behind him holding shovels, perhaps Mrs. Simon and her child would have caused more trouble.

The small dog in Mrs. Simon's hands, Mengxi, finally ceased breathing in its struggle. Gadon's kick shattered its already fragile ribs, piercing into its organs.

From the moment blood flowed from its mouth and nose, it was already doomed; what's left were just the final acts of struggle.

Ignoring the bloodstains, Mrs. Simon clutched the little dog and cried out loudly. Her son supported her, glaring fiercely at his half-brother entering the house, eyes reflecting a murderous intent never before seen.

In this foreign land, something awakened within him that had never awakened before.

When about to leave the courtyard, he noticed a gravestone, mocking in his heart the ignorance of the natives, who didn't even understand basic rules. The deceased shouldn't be buried in the front yard at all.

As some common saying goes, people frequently move around in the front yard, they must weed and lay turf, disrupting the rest of the eternally sleeping. It's the greatest disrespect to ancestors.

Only a quiet backyard should be where ancestors rest. Almost everyone globally is doing this, except for the uncultured natives who bury their dead in the front yard.

Perhaps carrying hatred and anger, he lashed out with a kick on the gravestone like venting.

The front yard soil isn't compacted; sometimes gardeners might intentionally loosen the soil with small tools for garden management ease.

Mr. Simon's son kicked with strength and force, causing the already unstable gravestone to slowly tip over under his kick.

The butler and nearby workers were stunned, even forgetting to chase after them for an explanation. Perhaps Mr. Simon's son realized the severity of his actions, and they quickly left the courtyard, getting into their rented, worn-out car.

Through the car window, Mr. Simon's son stuck out his head, waved his fist, and shouted loudly, "We won't let you off, just wait and see!"

Watching these two leave, the butler then slowly walked to the gravestone's side. He adjusted the gravestone, not minding the dirt and grass clinging to it as it fell, meticulously cleaning every bit off it.

To the butler, the "relationship" between him and Mr. Simon was immensely complex; if Mr. Simon hadn't chosen him with one glance back then, perhaps he and his family would be living lives less secure.

He was very grateful to Mr. Simon for giving him the opportunity, allowing him to have a decent job. In Nagariel, working as a housekeeper for foreigners was already a very, very decent job.

This also enabled 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 it weren't for...

He sighed, looked at the tombstone that had been set upright again, lingered for a few seconds, and then turned around to go back into the house.

Before going back, he instructed the helpers to take good care of the courtyard for the next few days, not to let people in casually, and if anyone tried to force their way in, they could kick them out.

When he returned to the room, Gadon was drinking. He used to drink very little because Simon was not someone who liked to drink, and the locals, being poor, hadn't formed the habit of drinking. Except in some social settings, Gadon rarely drank.

But everything changed with Mr. Simon's death. Gadon began drinking, not much, but more frequently; drinking a bit had become his new hobby.

He sat on the sofa with a wine glass in hand, his face showing a thoughtful expression. Hearing the footsteps of the housekeeper, he looked up at him, "Contact... the gentleman for me."

This ... gentleman was Akumal, one of the cadre in the group around that short Youth Party Provincal Governor, a rather impulsive cadre.

Since interacting with these people, Gadon had gradually begun to adapt to his new identity, and he was doing quite well.

He was very perceptive in identifying the character traits of each person in this group. This cadre gentleman was inherently very impulsive and had strong opinions about love and hate. In other words, such a person was very easy to manipulate; as long as you pointed them in a direction, they would charge forth.

The housekeeper nodded slightly, "Do you need me to contact Mr. Akumal?"

The housekeeper asked this out of kindness. If you bypass the top person to contact a subordinate cadre directly, it always feels a bit... inappropriate.

Gadon shook his head, "Contacting him won't achieve the purpose I want, do as I say, invite him for a meal."

The housekeeper left to handle the matter, while Gadon continued to sit on the sofa thinking. He noticed the dangerous glint in his brother's eyes as he left.

He had a rough idea what that disappointing mother and son would do — they would no more than seek help from the Federation people. It's truly a troublesome matter.

The United Development Company had already started to show its dominance; driven by the company, even it's said that Nagariel began to appreciate in value. This company's power was too formidable, too terrifying.

Some might think that such a big company would not pay attention to a small figure like Gadon, but the problem was that it was a sensitive period.

The turmoil had just ended, and foreigners had just gone through a round of purging. Regardless of what kind of strange occurrence this purge against foreigners was, if news of "locals robbing foreign inheritance and expelling lawful heirs" broke out at this time, it would surely cause an uproar.

Even if the Federation people were not interested in the matter, those local authorities who try to fathom the minds of the Federation people would spontaneously stand on the side of that mother and son to appease foreign and Federation sentiments.

Mr. Simon's death certainly granted Gadon a lot of practical power, but it also cut off his last bit of connection with the upper class. He did not know the newly appointed mayor, nor the newly appointed police station chief, let alone important figures like Lynch or Provincial Governor Drag. Naturally, he couldn't have these people speak for him.

But that mother and son could. Their foreign identity was too useful during this time. Earlier or later, Gadon wouldn't worry about anything happening, but now, it's too sensitive.

He didn't want to do this, he turned his head to look at a shelf used for displaying some memorabilia, one of which was a photo of him with Mr. Simon.

Mr. Simon's arrogant face bore a look of impatience, while he himself, carefully smiling happily at the side, showed one of his rare happy smiles.

At that time, he for sure would not have known that the one who would ultimately inherit everything from him was this son of his whom he liked the least and didn't even acknowledge!

He picked up the wine glass, drained its contents in one gulp, his gaze particularly determined.

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

A little later, that unnamed Youth Party cadre arrived at Gadon's home with two younger associates.

In fact, Gadon didn't like these Youth Party people either, calling them hooligans might be more appropriate at times. He was well aware ... the two came not for safety or any other purpose, but to show off his relationship with them and to grab a meal while at it.

Gadon showed no dissatisfaction or displeasure on his face, warmly welcoming the three into the room...

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