"What’s the difference?"
All the emotions faded from Alexander Parker’s eyes, revealing his extraordinarily cold side: "If all beings are equal, then it doesn’t matter what I kill, why should I be condemned? If all beings are not equal, then a high-level being like is simply following the natural law of survival of the fittest by eliminating lower creatures, and should not be condemned!"
Ella Weaver was stunned by his theory!
This view was too shocking, but she couldn’t find any reason to refute it, so she could only whisper, "At least you can’t harm humans; we are also high-level beings!"
"You?"
Alexander Parker sneered, his tone full of sarcasm: "You’re as dumb as pigs, how are you high-level?"
Ella Weaver was so angry she could vomit blood, but she didn’t dare to retort, nor could she refute.
This was definitely not a joke or a taphor; he genuinely thought they were pigs.
Alexander Parker was indeed not on the sa level as most people. By the age of ten, he had already mastered all courses from elentary school to university, demonstrating extraordinary intelligence and understanding.
He could accurately judge whether soone was lying from tiny details, infer unspoken psychological activities, and even predict a person’s future.
His deductive reasoning abilities were beyond the understanding of normal people.
Psychologists say all his obsessive behaviors stem from his excessive high intelligence.
In fact, he had attempted suicide many tis because of his high intelligence.
In Alexander Parker’s own words, he finds living aningless; this world is boring.
He has no capability for empathy; he cannot feel others’ pain, joy, sadness, anger. Just like yesterday, he was beaten so badly, but he didn’t feel angry or sad, nor did he go ho to vent, acting as if nothing happened.
Later, he found destroying things he liked could make him feel so joy or sadness, and it beca unstoppable.
His favorite life wasn’t himself, but Isabella Weaver, so it’s truly a miracle that Isabella Weaver survived under his hands.
Ella Weaver had been jealous for ages of Isabella being favored by him; she lowered her head, not letting Alexander see her expression, and asked a question she had pondered for a long ti: "Cousin, what do you think is good about Isabella? Is she the high-level being you talked about?"
"Little Isabella?"
Rembering how he almost bit off her finger, Alexander Parker was still sowhat annoyed: "How beautiful she is! How perfect! She’s practically a work of art! This chick is for you! Mom, do we have any scar-removal dicine at ho? Where’s the servant? Why run so far away, I’m not eating you all, I want to eat crispy sausage for lunch, the crispier the better! Today the temperature rose by 4.5 degrees, humidity dropped, and there hasn’t been any rain these past two days, it’s not good."
Ella Weaver instinctively caught the chick, listened to him ramble a string of unrelated words, knowing that his brain was again functioning at high speed.
When his mind was active, his speech would beco rapid, and he could speak about several unrelated things in a minute, nobody could understand what he was really going to do.
But Alexander Parker’s complint of Isabella being perfect was easy to understand, which made Ella Weaver sowhat annoyed. What is perfect about her? Just an illegitimate child, can’t be seen in public!
Fuming, she walked a few steps with the utterly adorable chick, then suddenly stopped.
A chick?
She poked it.
No movent!
Dead?!
"Ah!"
Ella Weaver scread in horror and threw the chick away.
Who said this pervert beca normal? It’s all lies!
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