Chapter 559

Chapter 559:

In his urgency, he had completely let down his guard. If Red Jack had chosen to strike now, Ashton would have been defenseless.

But surprisingly, Red Jack didn’t attack. Instead, he stood back, watching with that same mocking smile.

“Seems I wasn’t wrong about you after all,” Red Jack mused. “I knew what kind of person you were the moment I started investigating you. I’ll admit your skills exceeded my expectations, but you’ll never defeat me. One day, your kindness and compassion will be the death of you.”

Ashton glanced up at him but chose to remain silent.

Red Jack, however, didn’t seem to care about Ashton’s lack of response. The special forces had begun storming the banquet hall, and he had no plans to stick around.

Before making his escape, Red Jack offered one final taunt. “Oh, and just so we’re clear—my codename is Red Jack,” he said with a smirk. “I’m the ace assassin of the…”

“Dark Night Organization. And don’t worry—I’ll be the one to end your life soon enough.” With that, he turned and sprinted toward a nearby window. In one fluid motion, he leaped through it, shattering the glass, and vanished just moments before the special forces could reach him.

Ashton couldn’t afford the luxury of reacting to Red Jack’s taunts. His mind was tethered to Alisha, lying unconscious before him, her condition teetering on the edge of catastrophe. Her situation was far worse than a mere collapse. The impact of the explosion had inflicted injuries on her, but the true peril was the poison Red Jack had forced into her.

A lethal concoction, its effects were already wreaking havoc. Her once-vibrant complexion had paled to a sickly hue, and her smooth skin was now marred by a web of purple blotches and grotesque swelling.

The venom was swift, just as Red Jack had boasted—merciless and quick to spread.

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Once Ashton was certain Red Jack had disappeared into the night, and the banquet hall posed no further threats, he wasted no time. He retrieved his silver needles, disinfecting them with practiced precision. His task now was to purge the poison from Alisha’s body while managing her physical injuries.

The injuries from the collapse, at least, offered some reprieve. They weren’t as dire as he’d first feared. Alisha’s swift reflexes had spared her from being crushed. Her wounds were minor—mere scrapes and bruises—and the blow to her head that rendered her unconscious had resulted in a mild concussion.

But the real battle was against the poison.

Ashton worked quickly, using his extensive knowledge to perform acupuncture in conjunction with massage, stimulating her body to expel the toxins.

He had dealt with this deadly poison before, but this time was different. No matter how skilled his efforts, the toxins stubbornly lingered, as if endless.

He was in uncharted waters, a realization that gnawed at him. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and a trip to the hospital was out of the question. If the poison spread too far, Alisha might not survive the journey.

Then, a faint sound—a weak, almost ghostly murmur—escaped from Alisha’s lips as she slowly regained consciousness. “Ashton, am I going to die?” she asked, managing a bittersweet smile through her pain.

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