Chapter 521

Chapter 521:

Fortunately, Ashton had noticed the bomb just in time. If he had hesitated for even a moment longer, he might have been dead by now.

With this thought in mind, he turned and walked toward Jacoby, who was curling up and screaming not far away.

Ashton breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that Jacoby was still conscious, a clear sign that he was fine.

“You should’ve immediately jumped when I told you to,” Ashton muttered, bending down to check on Jacoby. Jacoby’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks showed he was shaken. But he was alive, gasping for air.

Jacoby’s internal organs were unharmed, but he had several fractures caused by the fall. His arm was also limp due to dislocation.

Ashton was relieved. Fortunately, Jacoby didn’t die. Otherwise, investigating the Dark Night Organization would have been much more difficult for him.

Jacoby’s injuries, though not grave, were the worst he’d ever endured. Coddled since childhood, he had never felt such pain. Now, sprawled on the ground, he sobbed uncontrollably. Ashton stood nearby, watching the scene with a sigh of frustration.

If he didn’t need vital information about the Dark Night Organization, he would have left Jacoby to his misery.

“Enough with the crying,” Ashton said, his tone a mix of irritation and indifference. “You’re a grown man, not a child. You’re not dead, are you?”

His gaze shifted briefly, and he picked up a sturdy stick, tossing it carelessly toward Jacoby.

“Easy for you to say! It’s not your bones that are shattered,” Jacoby grumbled as he caught the stick Ashton had thrown, only to fling it back with a look of indignation.

Ashton caught it effortlessly and frowned. “I didn’t hand it to you for that. Bite it. I need to hold your bones in place, or you’ll be limping the rest of your life.”

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Without waiting for Jacoby’s response, Ashton shoved the stick into his mouth.

Despite his complaints, Jacoby bit down hard on the stick and braced himself. His eyes, however, still gleamed with suspicion. Ashton was known for his fierce combat skills, but tending to broken bones was a different beast entirely. How could a fighter like Ashton know anything about healing?

Reading the doubt written plainly on Jacoby’s face, Ashton gave a dark chuckle. “You think I care whether you live or die? If you weren’t of any use to me right now, you’d be long forgotten. So if you want to get out of this, grit your teeth and bear it.”

With that, Ashton grabbed Jacoby’s shoulder, and with one swift, practiced motion, twisted his dislocated arm back into place.

The agony shot through Jacoby like wildfire. His body tensed, his vision blurred, and he was on the verge of blacking out. The stick in his mouth groaned under the pressure, nearly splintering in two.

But as the searing pain began to dull, sensation returned to Jacoby’s once-numb left hand, like a breath of fresh air after a storm.

Without missing a beat, Ashton gathered some dry branches from the roadside, stripped the bark, and used the makeshift rope to splint Jacoby’s injured leg.

The pain still pulsed in his leg, but with a wince, Jacoby managed to get to his feet.

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