Shadow Empire

Chapter 1111 Murder in a Sweet Dream

In a lively room of a private club, a young man who looked somewhat like Mr. Porter was slumped on a sofa, smoking a spiked cigarette.

He squinted, as if what he was inhaling was not just ordinary smoke, but all the beauty he could find in the world!

His gaze shifted between unfocused and focused, clearly a result of the extract from the maple iris.

Actually, the Grimacea mushroom is more effective, but... it's too cheap. Sometimes, the sales volume of a product in a specific group has little to do with its quality, but rather with its positioning.

Ghost face mushrooms are mostly enjoyed by the middle class. They are very cheap, and as long as a suitable place is found for them to grow, a lot of ghost face mushroom spores and powder can be harvested every year.

However, Maple Leaf Grass is different. It's very dependent on its environment, and there aren't many places in the Federation where it can be grown, plus there are some human factors involved.

For example, the Perez family will clear out farms that are not theirs and burn maple and iris plants grown by others. They are doing the same thing that capitalists do in the free market, and they are doing it quite well.

Currently, there are only three or four companies in the federal government that can provide maple leaf extract. They have already divided up the market, so this "natural" and higher-end product naturally commands a higher price.

However, it's probably not entirely true that it's better than the Grimacea mushroom.

This young man is the grandson of old Porter. As a typical future government official, even if he is worse than the worst person now, when the time is right, he will put on a suit, walk into the government department, and sit down behind a desk in an office.

His name and his position in the government will be displayed on the door.

It won't be low; he'll start as a municipal councilor. After all, his grandfather was the president. How could he really climb up from the bottom?

He can enjoy things that others can't enjoy in their entire lives without paying any price. If he has to say what he has to pay, it's that his life is rather boring and lacks challenges.

That's why he's here now looking for fun.

He was surrounded by things that could stimulate his senses: cigarettes, alcohol, dangerous substances, and sex.

The young men and women around him knew this wasn't a good thing, but they still did it, and did it around him.

Everyone has their own way of living. Some are born at the finish line, while others want to ride the wind.

Mr. Potter's grandson is clearly a good wind.

"I heard your grandpa is going to run for president?" one of his friends couldn't help but ask.

A smug smile immediately appeared on Porter's face. "That's right. I heard he has a high chance of winning. I can invite you to the presidential palace later. I heard there are many guest rooms there, and we can stay there."

The others immediately showed longing on their faces. For many of them, being able to stay overnight in the Presidential Palace, even without being received by the President, would be the greatest honor of their lives.

They immediately started flattering and praising him, which kept little Porter smiling throughout; he enjoyed being surrounded by these people praising him.

As for those who cannot be praised, or those of similar status and position, they are not at this gathering today.

No one can be part of just one circle; there will be many circles waiting for them. In some circles, they are supporting characters, but in others, they are the main characters.

When they are the main characters, there can be no other supporting characters who threaten their position, so everyone here is essentially a lackey.

Surrounded by beautiful girls, feeling their smooth skin, he quickly drifted into a dazed state under the influence of spiked cigarettes.

It's a bit like being drunk and unconscious, but it's not quite the same as just collapsing and not knowing anything.

He would remain in a state between lucidity and unease, as if standing between illusion and reality. This feeling was hard to describe, and the whole world was undergoing wonderful changes!

It becomes strange; as the senses are amplified, things in front of you sometimes undergo wondrous changes.

In short, the feeling was strange; he began to feel thirsty, something he often did.

After achieving various forms of satisfaction, the primal urges are finally released, and today will be no different from any other day.

He would vent his frustrations in a daze and then take a nap, waiting for the next morning when it would be a brand new day.

This had happened often before, and he knew very well that everyone's future in this room depended on his growth, so he wasn't worried about anything happening to him; they would handle everything.

In a daze, he knew he had been taken to his villa. He could feel a girl staying with him. He did many things and finally fell asleep while holding her.

In his sleep, he had a dream in which he became a ferocious beast, tearing everything apart, and then his consciousness sank deeper and deeper.

The next morning, he woke up in a daze, feeling very uncomfortable due to the hangover and other miscellaneous symptoms.

It's very uncomfortable!

If he indulges himself the night before, he will inevitably wake up like this the next morning.

Alcohol, tobacco, and other things made him feel extremely uncomfortable, and he told himself more than once that he must never do it again.

But once he sits there and lights that first cigarette, everything becomes irresistible.

Before he even opened his eyes, the glaring sunlight streamed in from outside the curtains. The summer morning sun was intense; even when it wasn't shining directly on him, it was still hard to open his eyes.

He pulled back the thin blanket, feeling a little uncomfortable. The villa had an air conditioning system. Many people still think that home air conditioning is nonsense and a scam, but some people have already been enjoying it for a long time.

The room temperature is kept constant at 26 degrees Celsius, so a very thin blanket is needed, otherwise it will be a little cold.

The blanket felt a bit heavy and damp to him today.

"These sons of bitches must have gotten their blankets wet and forgotten to change them before leaving," he cursed inwardly at these unreliable people, but soon he sensed something was wrong.

This dampness wasn't just the kind of dampness from being soaked in water; it also had a faint fishy smell. He opened his eyes, stared blankly at his reddened palm for a moment, and then let out a piercing scream.

He scrambled off the bed and onto the floor, his drowsy state vanishing in an instant. He stared in horror at the blood-soaked bed and a young girl staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

She had many wounds on her body, which had stopped bleeding. It was highly likely that most of the blood had been drained, leaving only the open wounds and some dark red scabs.

"Fuck!" Little Potter cursed, then shakily stood up, leaning against the wall beside him. He stared in disbelief at the girl who had been dead for some time, and tried to call her name.

But there was no response; she was dead. Little Potter trembled as he moved to the bedside and touched the girl's nose with his hand. There was no warmth at all. Terrified, he hugged his arms and hid in the far corner of the room.

He looked at everything that was happening and couldn't help but curse again. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew he had messed up.

His father and grandfather both told him that he could do whatever he wanted, whatever it was, and they would clean up his messes, but he should try not to do anything criminal.

Murder, kidnapping, torture, or any other heinous crimes are prohibited.

It wasn't that they had any moral fastidiousness, but rather that they were worried that young Potter wouldn't be able to handle these things and wouldn't know how to clean up the mess, which could bring some uncontrollable dangers.

Unlike them, who can handle all possible risks and minimize them, Porter lacks experience and needs to grow until he is thirty-four years old before he can be exposed to these things.

Exposing him to these things too early will only make him a problem.

He listened to this advice and almost never did anything illegal. Even if he took a fancy to a girl, he would use his family background and money to corrupt her.

As for forcing it?

He wouldn't do that. He has a bright future and a distinguished family background. What woman can't he have if he wants her?

Why insist on hanging yourself on one tree?
His self-positioning and understanding have allowed him to live smoothly to this day, right up to now!

As if remembering something, he immediately went to the bedside. He glanced at the girl who lay dead with her eyes wide open, then pulled up the blood-soaked blanket and covered her face.

He knew this girl wanted to get some money from him; she was a gold digger, willing to kneel before him and accept anything for money.

These girls were just toys and tools to him, but he never intended to hurt anyone!
With trembling hands, he dialed his father's number, then said in an equally trembling voice, "I've gotten into trouble!"

His father knew he wasn't lying the moment he heard his voice. "Where are you now?"

"what have you done?"

Who else is around you?

A barrage of questions left little Porter unsure how to answer, what to say first, what to say next. He could only rub his forehead and pace back and forth near the bedside table.

As he walked, he answered at his own pace, "I don't know. I went out partying all night last night, and then, as usual, I brought a girl back to spend the night with me."

"But just now, after I woke up, I realized that she..."

"Dead!" When he uttered the word "dead," he felt an unprecedented sense of unease and bewilderment. He had never experienced anything like this before, and he didn't know how to cope!

His father took a deep breath upon hearing this; it was just one person dead, which was hardly a problem for high society.

He, the old Porter, had experienced far worse things, but he maintained his steady voice, which gave the young Porter a sense of security.

"Besides you, does anyone else know about this?"

Are you in your villa now?

Little Potter then remembered that his father had other questions for him, and he quickly replied, "Yes, yes, I'm in that villa in the suburbs right now. I don't know if there's anyone else outside. I'm in my room, and I haven't gone out yet."

"I'm covered in blood, fuck!"

His father breathed a slight sigh of relief, as long as it wasn't in a public place. "Good, stay calm, lock the door, and don't let anyone in. I'll bring people over right away."

"Remember, don't open the door for anyone except me, and don't tell your friends anything!"

After ending the call, his father immediately took his assistant, made several phone calls, and then took these people to Porter Jr.'s villa.

There were still a few people in the villa; they had all been partying too hard last night and hadn't woken up yet.

Potter's father politely ushered them all out, and only after confirming that no one else was in the room did he knock on Potter's bedroom door.

"It's me, open the door."

Upon hearing his father's voice, young Potter immediately said "Thank God," then ran to the door and opened it.

The moment the door opened, his father frowned as a slightly rotten smell of blood wafted out. He and the people behind him were wearing gloves and clothes that were clearly not worn regularly.

The first thing I saw was a blanket covered in blood, and under the blanket, something that looked like a human figure.

Potter's father walked to the bedside, lifted the blanket, and glanced at the girl's condition. There were other people around him. "She died from bleeding. There were no strictly fatal injuries, but there were too many wounds, and there were strangulation marks on her neck."

The person next to him completely pulled back the covers, which made little Potter immediately turn away, not daring to look in his direction, and he didn't forget to swear a few times.

His father remained calm and said, "Let's get to work."

Soon, the people in the room began to clean up the mess. They seemed very professional, separating everything into different places.

The girl was placed in a body bag, and then the blankets, pillows, mattresses, and all the blood-stained items were packed together separately.

This is to avoid any unexpected events during the processing that could lead to the discovery of a series of pieces of evidence.

These items will eventually be disposed of separately to ensure that even if someone gets a portion of them, it will have no real value or meaning.

But soon, these people who were working discovered a problem.

"We did not find the murder weapon."

Obviously, such a gruesome murder couldn't have been committed by Porter Jr. using his teeth or fingernails; there must have been a sharp weapon, but they can't find anything that matches it.

Potter's father turned to him and asked, "What did you use to kill her?"

"Where's that thing?"

(End of this chapter)