The Tyrant Billionaire-Chapter 655 Weaknesses Of The Royal Succession System

The Sultan’s Palace, Johor

Though called a palace, it was essentially a large estate. The current Sultan of Johor, Ismail, was in his forties, with four wives and two sons.

In later years, when the Malaysian Federation was established, Malaysia had nine kings, one of whom was Ismail.

At this moment, Ismail was relaxing under a tree, surrounded by several maidservants attending to him.

The Malay guard approached respectfully. "Your Highness, Sultan, Abdullah Hussain Idris has signed the papers," he said, handing over the agreement.

Ismail was delighted. He took the agreement with a smile and began to read.

In reality, Ismail couldn’t fully understand the agreement. However, he could recognize the signature, and once the paper was signed, the Idris family’s assets would belong to him—assets worth millions of dollars.

"So they’ve finally submitted? Haha! You did well. Send people to take over those estates and enterprises. Those are all mine now," the Sultan ordered.

"Yes, Your Highness. But what should we do with the Idris family? Should we continue detaining them?" the malay guard asked.

Ismail sneered coldly. "Of course, keep them locked up. Detain them for a year until we’ve fully taken over their assets."

"Besides, they still have some value. We can squeeze more out of them later."

"What about Abdullah Hussain Idris’s son? He’s running a high fever and might die if he doesn’t get treatment. Should we do something about it?" the guard inquired.

"No need. Deaths are normal. Those people all deserve to die. The only reason they’re still alive is that killing them outright would be difficult to justify to the British. Otherwise, I would’ve had them all killed long ago and taken their property outright. That would’ve been much simpler than going through these agreements."

"I understand, Your Highness. I’ll begin taking over the assets immediately," the guard replied, bowing before leaving.

Singapore a modest estate.

A car drove into the estate and parked in the garage. Several men in black suits stepped out, dragging another man from the vehicle. The man’s head was covered with a black hood, and his hands were cuffed behind his back.

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The man was not tall and was dragged into the living room like a helpless chicken by the burly men.

Standing in the living room, he trembled uncontrollably.

He had been planning to enjoy himself that evening, but just as he stepped out of his house and approached his car, he was seized by these burly men, hooded, handcuffed, and thrown into the vehicle.

He had wanted to cry out for help.

But he immediately felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his neck, silencing him in terror.

"Swish!"

The black hood was pulled off.

His face was revealed—about forty years old, with dark skin and features typical of a Malay. Anyone who had seen Sultan Ismail of Johor would notice a resemblance between this man and Ismail.

"Your name is Maha?" a middle-aged foreigner sitting opposite him asked.

"Yes, I am Maha," the man replied.

"You are Ismail’s brother."

"Yes. May I ask why you’re looking for me?" Maha stammered, trembling.

"Do you want to become Sultan?" the foreigner asked.

Maha froze.

"Sultan? There might have been a chance in the past, but now it’s impossible. When my father was alive, I was second in line. After the title passed to Ismail, every son he’s had has pushed me further down the line. Now, with Ismail having two sons, I’m fourth in line. Even if Ismail dies, I can’t become Sultan."

The foreigner chuckled. "I’m only asking if you want to be Sultan. If you say no, I’ll kill you right here and move on to the fifth in line."

Maha shivered in fear.

The threat was clear—refusal meant death.

Gritting his teeth, Maha replied, "Of course, I want it. Ever since I was young, I’ve wanted it. But just because I was born a little over a year after Ismail, I’ve always been ranked behind him. He inherited the throne and all the family’s wealth, while I’ve been forced to survive on a pitiful allowance each year. Why? Just because he was born first?"

In history, there had been countless cases of brothers fighting for the throne.

As the second-born, Maha had long felt bitter. His elder brother inherited everything, while he received a mere pittance. Every time he collected his allowance, he felt like a beggar. During festivals, he had to bow respectfully to his brother; otherwise, his allowance could be cut off.

This constant humiliation burned within Maha.

It was one of the main reasons he had moved to Singapore.

"We can help you become the Sultan of Johor, but we have conditions," the foreigner said.

"What conditions? I have nothing to offer," Maha replied.

"I know you have nothing. We’ll take care of everything first. Afterward, when you succeed, we want half of Johor’s assets—land, population, everything—and we’ll choose which parts we want," the foreigner stated.

Maha was shocked by the demand.

"Half? That’s far too much!" Maha exclaimed.

The foreigner smirked coldly. "Right now, you don’t even have half. Without our help, you’ll remain a parasite, forever kneeling at Ismail’s feet."

Maha immediately realized his situation.

Indeed, none of these assets were currently his. What was there to feel protective about?

What ancestral inheritance?

None of it was his.

If he succeeded, he would still get half, and he could become Sultan.

"Fine, I agree to your terms," Maha said.

The foreigner smiled. "Remember this agreement. Once everything is done, I’ll come back for you." He turned to the burly men beside him. "Alright, send him back."

Maha was stunned.

"You’re not going to make me sign anything? Just a verbal agreement? Aren’t you worried I’ll go back on my word?" Maha asked, puzzled.

The foreigner laughed. "A written agreement? That can be torn up. Besides, would this kind of agreement even stand in court?"

"In this world, everything is decided by power. If we dare to kill the current Sultan, do you think we’d hesitate to kill you? If you betray us, we’ll simply eliminate you and move on to the next in line. Eventually, someone smart will appear."

Maha shuddered.

The foreigner was right. If they could kill his brother, killing him would be even easier.

"I—I’ll keep my promise," Maha quickly assured.

"I’m sure you will. Now, let’s look forward to our next meeting," the foreigner said with a smile. Your adventure continues at novelbuddy

Maha was sent back to his home. Even after returning, he remained agitated and excited. For so long, he had been the family’s black sheep, but now he finally had a chance to become Sultan.

He knew his only value was his identity.

What did it matter if he gave up half of Johor’s assets? As long as he gained the other half, he could still become Sultan of Johor. Even with only half the land, it would be more than what most other people dream of.

The more Maha thought about it, the more thrilled he became. He poured himself a glass of wine and downed it in one gulp.

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