Chapter 348: An Enraged Old Morgan Decides to Immediately Contact the Dragon Country Authorities

The video currently playing on screen made Old Morgan’s cloudy eyes narrow slightly. His fists clenched instinctively.

As the head of Morgan Financial Group, with over seventy years of life experience, he had already more or less guessed what this video would contain.

Just the opening alone.

Just that one brutal kick from the Punk Man was enough to set the tone.

Old Morgan had originally wanted to shut the video off, unable to bear watching Little Morgan being beaten and tortured. But in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to click the button.

Even though Little Morgan’s fate was already sealed.

Old Morgan wasn’t just the leader of a vast financial empire. He was also a grandfather.

And tell me—knowing this was the last footage of your grandson before his death, even if what followed was unimaginable and heart-wrenching, how could you bear to turn it off?

Once Old Morgan resolved to watch the video through to the end—

Bang!

Another vicious kick echoed from the speakers.

Little Morgan, who had just been forcibly dragged to his feet by the henchmen, was immediately sent flying several meters by another heavy kick from J.

On screen, Little Morgan curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach with an expression of unbearable agony. A large mouthful of blood spilled from his lips.

But even after two savage kicks, the henchmen pulled him up again.

Compared to before, Little Morgan’s condition had clearly deteriorated. He could no longer even beg for mercy. He simply hung his head, gasping for breath.

Even that simple act of breathing seemed incredibly difficult. Blood kept bubbling up from his mouth with each cough.

Seeing Little Morgan in this state, Old Morgan felt a suffocating pressure in his chest. His desire to find the killer grew stronger by the second.

But it wasn’t over yet.

In the video, J walked up to Little Morgan with a mocking sneer. He grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up.

At that moment, Old Morgan could clearly see the look in his grandson’s eyes—already dazed and on the verge of unconsciousness—filled with pleading, fear, regret, and a desperate will to live.

It was a look that shattered the heart.

Seeing that expression, Old Morgan felt a deep, wrenching pain.

This was his most beloved grandson. And now, he wore a face full of despair and a desperate yearning to survive.

But that pain was Old Morgan’s alone.

J, who had grabbed Little Morgan by the hair, showed no trace of pity. The twisted expression on his face made it clear he felt nothing but excitement and satisfaction, like a bloodthirsty beast.

He pulled a handgun from his pocket, reversed his grip to hold it by the barrel, and raised it high—aiming the butt at Little Morgan’s face.

Seeing this, Old Morgan instinctively shut his eyes, unable to bear watching what was about to happen.

But even with his eyes closed, the sounds rang out clearly.

Bang!

Bang!!

Bang!!!

…

Each time the gun’s butt smashed down, Old Morgan’s heart jolted violently.

Only when the brutal pounding stopped did he slowly open his eyes. His gaze had turned darker than ever before.

On screen, Little Morgan’s face had been beaten beyond recognition, blood pouring down in streams. The difference between this and the once-proud heir of a financial empire was like night and day.

This wasn’t just murder.

It was pure, sadistic torture.

The Punk Man in the video had countless ways to end Little Morgan’s life quickly. But he had deliberately chosen this cruel and drawn-out method.

And even now… the torment wasn’t over.

Old Morgan watched as the lead Punk Man waved his hand. A subordinate, already waiting nearby, stepped forward and violently stuffed Little Morgan back into the sack.

Then the others picked up stones and chunks of metal, hurling them into the sack again and again. Blood soaked through the fabric, visible even to the naked eye.

At that moment, Old Morgan finally understood why, when they recovered Little Morgan’s body, his skull had so many fractures—some even missing pieces entirely.

It felt like his heart was being torn apart. For the first time ever, he couldn’t remain calm. His fury surged like a tidal wave, crashing over him again and again.

Never before.

He had never wanted to kill someone so badly.

Since the rise of the Morgan Family, who in the United States dared not show them respect? Even Congress had to bow its head at times.

But now… his grandson—the sole heir to Morgan Financial Group—had been tortured to death like this. Not even begging for mercy had helped.

His fists clenched tighter.

Old Morgan could no longer contain the rage boiling in his chest. All he wanted now was to find that Punk Man as quickly as possible and make him suffer ten times the pain Little Morgan had endured.

…

At that moment.

Though he hadn’t seen the video, just hearing the sounds and watching Old Morgan’s changing expression and clenched fists made Chief Walker’s scalp tingle.

A creeping sense of dread crept over him, and he cautiously ventured a question.

“CEO Morgan…”

“Is this the follow-up to the video you sent me last time?”

“Let me remind you,” the officer said, “that video appears to have been shot from a considerable distance. The audio likely couldn’t have been captured naturally.”

“Which means this footage may have been deliberately doctored, exaggerated just to provoke you, to make you lose your composure.”

“CEO Morgan, please trust the New York Police Department. Give us two days—at most two days—and we will definitely…”

Before Chief Walker could finish, Old Morgan shot an impatient glance at the secretary beside him.

He didn’t say a word, but the secretary immediately understood. With a wave of his hand toward the front, he spoke in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Don’t just stand there.”

“The CEO doesn’t pay you to be spectators. Teach our Chief Walker here how to speak properly.”

“Make sure he knows what to say, what not to say, when to speak, and when to shut up.”

As soon as the words fell, several burly bodyguards who had been standing in the back stepped forward, puffing out their chests.

Two of them grabbed Chief Walker firmly by the shoulders, while another raised his hand and began slapping him hard across the face.

Smack—

Smack—

Smack—

…

Just a few slaps, and Chief Walker’s cheeks were already swollen. But he didn’t dare utter a word, not even to beg for mercy. He clenched his teeth and endured it, terrified that one wrong word might get him thrown into the ocean by Old Morgan himself.

Old Morgan took a deep breath, forcing down the fury simmering in his chest. After a few seconds, he turned to his secretary and spoke in a low, commanding voice.

“In the name of Morgan Financial Group, get the official contact information for the Shanghai police in Dragon Country.”

“I want an immediate—and I mean immediate—video call with the officer who spoke to me earlier…”