Chapter 569 - 567: The Sky Has Fallen—Why Would He Become the Princely Heir?

Chapter 569: Chapter 567: The Sky Has Fallen—Why Would He Become the Princely Heir?

Caleb Jacobs was absolutely furious.

He gripped the front of his robes, feeling a mouthful of blood welling up in his chest. If he had any other sons, he never would have pinned all his hopes on Arthur Jacobs. It was true what they say: the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment.

Caleb Jacobs was in agony. He had struggled and schemed to achieve his current status, yet the biological son he had finally found was completely useless. ’This boy is a lost cause,’ he thought.

Arthur Jacobs paid no mind to his father’s thoughts. "Father," he said directly, "was there something you needed? If not, I’ll be going. I still have to copy my texts." He was in a hurry, rushing to finish the remaining one hundred copies to complete his task and claim the reward.

’Copying texts?’

Hearing this, a glimmer of hope sparked in Caleb Jacobs’s eyes.

’Perhaps this son can still be saved.’ He had heard that for the past two days, Arthur had locked himself in his room to study. ’Could it be he’s finally seen the error of his ways and decided to apply himself to his studies?’

At this thought, he asked, "You’re copying texts? Do you understand what you’re writing? What book is it?" After all, this was his own flesh and blood; he couldn’t help but hope the boy might amount to something. With all the recent turmoil, he hadn’t had the mind to pay attention to his son’s studies.

Despite his anger, hearing that his son was copying texts made him unable to resist asking.

Hearing the question, Arthur Jacobs looked up at Caleb Jacobs, who stood before the desk.

Remembering how his father had shown him no concern and had even beaten him before, a surge of resentment made him want to be contrary. He had originally planned to mention a respectable text, like one on scholarly conduct, but instead, he spoke nonchalantly. "Father, I am copying *Admonitions for Women* and *Female Virtue*."

Arthur Jacobs’s mind was consumed by the system. He was obsessed with getting a photographic memory and achieving a meteoric rise in status. His reliance on this so-called "system" was so complete that he had lost all sense of self, never once questioning whether the tasks it assigned were problematic. All he wanted was the reward.

He was never willing to do things the hard way, always looking for a shortcut. In that regard, Arthur Jacobs was just like his father, Caleb Jacobs.

One moment, Caleb Jacobs thought his son had learned his lesson; the next, he was dealt a harsh slap of reality. The mention of those titles made him freeze on the spot, his hand clenching his robes going still.

’Copying what?’

’*Admonitions for Women* and *Female Virtue*?’

’What did that bastard just say?’ Caleb Jacobs thought he must have misheard. "What did you say? You’re copying *Admonitions for Women* and *Female Virtue*?"

Arthur Jacobs glanced at him and said dismissively, "Yes. *Admonitions for Women* and *Female Virtue*."

Caleb Jacobs stood frozen, his eyes wide. The look he gave his son was one of indescribable disbelief. "You’re copying texts on female virtue? Do you even hear yourself? How can a man study such books? It’s a disgrace! An absolute disgrace!"

Arthur Jacobs’s expression turned cold. In that moment, he found himself thinking the system had a point. ’They’re all books, so what’s the difference? If such books exist, there must be a reason.’

With that thought, he couldn’t help but retort, "What’s wrong with them? Are they not books?"

Caleb Jacobs’s hands trembled with rage. "Those are for women to read! What business does a man have with such books?" Even if his son had been copying a child’s primer, he wouldn’t have felt so helpless. For the first time, he truly believed the outside rumors—there was something wrong with his son’s head. He suspected that after so many years lost, the boy was simply beyond teaching.

Before Caleb Jacobs could get another word in, Arthur Jacobs cut him off with a look of condescension. "You don’t need to know why I’m copying these. You’re just ignorant. What could you possibly understand about my work? Do you know about the system? Do you know about the unseen powers that exist between heaven and earth? Heh, so ignorant. You wouldn’t understand what I have to do."

The phrase "you wouldn’t understand" left Caleb Jacobs utterly stunned. He stared numbly at his son as a sudden surge of rage overwhelmed him, and he spat out a mouthful of blood.

"You... you... you little bastard!"

"This is surely retribution..."

His son’s speech was disjointed and utterly incomprehensible. ’This isn’t just a matter of a slow mind... Is he an actual idiot?’ How could this be? How could his son, Caleb Jacobs’s son, be such a degenerate? Recalling all the shameful things the boy had done recently, Caleb Jacobs felt all hope for the future vanish.

How could he have fathered such a good-for-nothing? Caleb Jacobs’s vision went black, and he collapsed.

Seeing his father collapse, Arthur Jacobs took a step back. He frowned slightly, feeling little affection for the man. However, remembering that he would still need to rely on him in the future, he quickly shouted to those outside.

"Someone come... get a doctor!"

Hearing the shout, the servants in Caleb Jacobs’s courtyard rushed in and carried him to his room. When Mrs. Dawson learned her husband had spat blood and fainted, she rushed over, her face fraught with anxiety.

People bustled in and out of the main courtyard, creating a tense atmosphere. A shadow of gloom fell over the entire General’s Mansion.

Arthur Jacobs stood at his father’s door for a moment but ultimately decided not to enter. He was running out of time. He still had a hundred copies of *Admonitions for Women* and *Female Virtue* left to write. ’I’m sure Father will understand,’ he thought. And with that, he turned and walked away, his conscience clear.

That evening, when Caleb Jacobs finally regained consciousness, he glanced around the room. His son was nowhere to be seen. He learned from the attending servant that Arthur had returned to his own room much earlier, and a chill settled in his heart.

His hand, holding a bowl of congee, paused mid-air. The porridge smelled fragrant and sweet, yet in that moment, he found it impossible to swallow.

His son was truly cold-hearted to the core.

’I’m his biological father, and I fainted in front of him. Yet he just left as if nothing happened. He didn’t even wait for the doctor.’

The hand holding the congee bowl trembled slightly.

"This is truly retribution."

’No, I can’t admit defeat.’

’I’ve worked too hard to reach my current position. I can’t let this vast General’s Mansion be ruined at Arthur Jacobs’s hands. The only option now is to send him away to one of our rural estates and announce that he has died from an illness. In a few years, we can bring him back under a new name and identity, claiming he’s a child from a minor branch of the clan, and then we’ll formally adopt him. It’s the only way.’

That very night, he told Mrs. Dawson his plan.

"No... I can’t bear to."

"My lord, we only just found our son after so much trouble. Do we really have to send him away?"

"Unless you have a better idea? Arthur must be sent away."

Mrs. Dawson’s sobs could be heard from inside the room, but in the end, she relented. "Very well, I will support your decision, my lord. It seems it’s the only way. I’m sure... I’m sure the boy will understand the difficult choice we’re making."