Chapter 565 - 563: The Heavens Collapsed, Why Would He Become the Princely Heir

Chapter 565: Chapter 563: The Heavens Collapsed, Why Would He Become the Princely Heir

This was the last doggy door he had to crawl through.

The system notified him that he had completed the task.

But he wasn’t happy about it at all right now.

The doggy door at the butcher’s house was too small. As a half-grown boy trying to crawl through, he got stuck. Now, the part of him above his shoulders was outside the wall, while the rest of his body was still in the butcher’s yard.

Behind him, he could hear the butcher’s cursing.

"Run? Go on, run..."

"I was wondering who had such guts. Turns out it’s just a little brat who hasn’t even hit puberty. Some little beggar from who-knows-where dares to come to my house and steal my pigs? You didn’t even bother to ask around about Butcher Wallace’s reputation on this street. I think you’ve got a death wish."

As he spoke, the man kicked him in the butt.

"Get out. Get out here."

Butcher Wallace was very strong. Although he didn’t put his full force into it, the kick still made Arthur Jacobs cry out in pain.

"AHH... Stop."

His limbs were numb from exhaustion after the long night, and he had no strength left. After being kicked, his vision went black.

Stuck in the doggy door, Arthur Jacobs couldn’t move backward or crawl forward. In the end, he had no choice but to cry for help.

"Help..."

"I’m stuck."

Butcher Wallace’s laughter echoed from behind him.

"HAHAHA."

"Serves you right, you little brat. Serves you right for being a good-for-nothing at your age, coming here to steal my pigs, and now getting yourself stuck in this doggy door."

Hearing the man accuse him again and again of being a pig thief, Arthur Jacobs gritted his teeth in anger. "I didn’t... I’m not here to steal pigs."

Just then, a hand grabbed his leg and yanked. Arthur Jacobs was pulled out like a radish from the ground. With a sickening CRACK, his neck was sprained.

"AAAAHHH... My neck! It’s broken, it’s broken!"

He lay sprawled on the ground, his head stuck facing to one side, unable to move.

Standing in his yard, Butcher Wallace sneered, "Stop pretending. Don’t think I’ll let you go just because of this. Daring to steal my pigs at such a young age... when you grow up, you’ll probably be a murderer and an arsonist. I have to turn you over to the authorities."

Unable to move his head, Arthur Jacobs was furious when he heard Butcher Wallace was going to turn him over to the authorities. "You can’t take me to the authorities... Damn it, do you have any idea who I am? I’m the young master of the General’s Mansion!"

"What’s that? Have I been slaughtering pigs for so long that I’m hearing things? The young master of the General’s Mansion?" Hearing this, Butcher Wallace paused for a moment before bursting into mockery. "You? Just look at the state you’re in. You look like some beggar off the street, yet you have the gall to impersonate the young master of the General’s Mansion. You really have a death wish."

"Crawling through a doggy door into my pigsty first thing in the morning to steal pigs is one thing, but to show no remorse after being caught? And now you even dare to impersonate the young master of the General’s Mansion."

Butcher Wallace didn’t believe a word he said. What kind of respectable young master would crawl through a doggy door into his pigsty? ’Even if the kid wasn’t right in the head, it wouldn’t be like this, would it?’

Arthur Jacobs was exasperated.

"Are you blind? Look at my clothes. Who from an ordinary family could afford these?"

At this reminder, Butcher Wallace finally took a closer look at him. Indeed, the clothes didn’t seem like something an ordinary child could afford. ’Could this kid be telling the truth?’

’Could there be some misunderstanding? A half-grown boy really doesn’t seem like a pig thief.’ Thinking of the immense power of the General’s Mansion, which was far beyond what a commoner like him could afford to offend, Butcher Wallace finally decided to have someone watch Arthur Jacobs while he personally went to the General’s Mansion to report the matter.

At first, the gate guards were about to send him away, but when they heard their young master’s name and Butcher Wallace’s claim that he had crawled through a doggy door into his pigsty, one of the guards audibly sucked in a breath. His eyes went wide.

"Wait here. I’ll go report to the lady of the house."

He needed to check if the young master was even in the mansion first. It was early in the morning, and no one had seen the young master leave, but the name Butcher Wallace mentioned, Arthur Jacobs, was indeed their young master’s.

’What if it’s true?’ The guard didn’t dare to delay and went to report it immediately. ’Our young master had just been chased and bitten by a dog last night for crawling through a doggy door. He had to be brought back home. So when did he sneak out again, and why was he crawling through doggy doors again?’

At this hour, Mrs. Dawson had not yet risen.

When she heard the servant report that her son had, at some unknown time, snuck out to crawl through a doggy door into someone’s pigsty, The General’s Lady, Mrs. Dawson, who had always prized her reputation above all else, felt her vision go black and nearly fainted.

"Go! Go see if the young master is in his courtyard!"

The old maidservant attending her acknowledged the order and went straight to Arthur Jacobs’s courtyard. A short while later, the old maidservant returned.

"It’s not good, My Lady! Young Master Arthur is not in his courtyard."

Mrs. Dawson murmured.

"Not there? How could he not be there?"

’If her son wasn’t in his courtyard, then the one who crawled into someone’s pigsty first thing in the morning really was her son.’

"What have I done to deserve this... What a calamity! How could I have given birth to such a wicked creature? What on earth is he trying to do?" ’He’s the young master of the General’s Mansion. Why is he so obsessed with crawling through people’s doggy doors?’

Mrs. Dawson thought about the recent events concerning her son. ’Could he be possessed by an evil spirit? How did all this start? It seems to have begun right after that bastard child was thrown out and died outside.’

’Could it be that child’s ghost haunting him? Otherwise, she simply couldn’t understand how her perfectly normal son could suddenly become so deranged.’

’Yes... that must be it. It must be that bastard’s ghost causing this trouble. He must be unwilling to have died like that. But she couldn’t be blamed for being ruthless. If anyone was to blame, it was him for not being her biological son.’

"Quick, send someone to bring the young master back."

"Yes."

After the servant left, Mrs. Dawson turned to the old maidservant beside her, leaned in, and whispered her instructions. "Take some silver and go hire a Daoist to come back with you. We need to exorcise the young master. I think the boy Arthur has been tainted by something unclean."

Hearing Mrs. Dawson mention hiring a Daoist for an exorcism, the old maidservant had the same thought. The things that had happened to Young Master Arthur these past two days were just too strange. The thought sent a sudden shiver down her spine. She felt a chill creep up her back.

’Could it be... that there really is something unclean involved?’

In all her years serving Mrs. Dawson, she had committed her fair share of evil deeds.

In the back courtyards of the mansion, where people were devoured without a bone to spit out, they had caused the deaths of more than a few concubines and illegitimate sons. As the saying goes, if you have a clear conscience, you don’t fear a knock on your door in the middle of the night. Both Mrs. Dawson and she had unclean hands, and with the bizarre events surrounding Arthur Jacobs, the mistress and servant couldn’t help but let their minds run wild.

"My Lady, this old servant will go and hire a Daoist right away." ’It seems hiring a Daoist is unavoidable.’ She didn’t want to hear any knocking on her door while she was trying to sleep at night. Just the thought of that possibility made her break out in a cold sweat.