Chapter 58: Chapter 55: Attacked at the Racetrack

The club manager had prepared a high-end, private racetrack for Alvin Morgan.

The track was smooth and wide, coated with special road paint. It was flanked by buffer zones and expansive green lawns.

Not far from the starting line was a semi-circular grandstand, separated from the track by a waist-high guardrail to ensure the spectators’ safety.

Behind the guardrail, the grandstand’s seats were arranged in four tiered rows, with seating for 200 spectators.

The club manager had originally thought Alvin Morgan wanted to race on a whim, but to his surprise, he was actually there to teach someone to drive.

He glanced quietly at the brand-new F1 car at the starting line, then spoke into his walkie-talkie, “Go get a driver’s ed car…”

In less than ten minutes, an ordinary driver’s ed car was driven onto the premium racetrack.

Alvin Morgan sat in the driver’s seat, demonstrating to Aurora Sinclair how to drive.

Beta Morgan had wanted to get in the back seat, but after seeing the cold look in his master’s eyes, he wisely stayed put.

’The boss is getting tired of me again!’

***

After driving a short distance, the two switched places.

Aurora Sinclair was a quick study. Before long, she was already cruising along in the driver’s ed car.

Her speed was perfect—not too fast, not too slow—and she drove with the steady hand of a seasoned veteran.

They drove farther and farther, leaving the standard track for a remote mountain road. For safety, Alvin Morgan switched places with her again.

Though it was just a driver’s ed car, it flew along with Alvin Morgan behind the wheel.

Soon, they rounded a small hill and were back on the standard racetrack.

Suddenly, a flash of light glinted from the top of the timing tower ahead, and a small red dot appeared on his face.

Alvin Morgan’s expression changed dramatically. He yanked the steering wheel hard to the right and shoved Aurora Sinclair’s head down with one hand. With a loud BANG, the side-view mirror shattered.

Another bang followed instantly, and a round hole appeared in the windshield. Alvin Morgan let out a muffled grunt.

The scent of blood slowly filled the air.

Alvin Morgan quickly deployed the airbags, which inflated in front of them.

He shielded Aurora Sinclair tightly with his body, forcing out four words through the pain, “Aurora… don’t be afraid…”

Dark red blood flowed down his arm, and his forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat.

Aurora Sinclair’s pupils constricted. A shrill female voice suddenly echoed in her mind: ’Rory, run—don’t look back—run—’

A massive explosion roared, and a towering inferno engulfed the entire car.

That memory, buried deep in her mind, gradually awakened…

An indeterminate amount of time passed before the screech of several cars braking cut through the air outside. The sound of gunshots grew more frequent. Beta Morgan had arrived with his men.

“Sir, get out of there!”

Alvin Morgan quickly shielded Aurora Sinclair as they moved out of the car.

Just then, Aurora Sinclair suddenly wrenched her arm free, darted out of their temporary cover, and ran recklessly into the hail of bullets.

“Aurora—”

Alvin Morgan’s face went pale with shock. He reached for her but clutched at empty air. As he lunged forward, Beta Morgan grabbed him in a death grip and quickly pulled him back.

“Let me go—”

“Sir, you can’t go—”

***

The assassin, perched atop the timing tower, kept aiming at the girl sprinting toward him, but every bullet only managed to graze past her, missing by a hair’s breadth.

’Who the hell is this?’

’How is she so fast?’

’How could the Morgan Family have a Martial Arts Master?’

Fear crept into the assassin’s heart. He scrambled to his feet, preparing to flee.

The timing tower he was on was a VIP viewing platform built by the club. It was normally closed to the public, and the only way up was by an internal elevator or the stairs.

To make a quick escape, he anchored a rope to the top of the tower, preparing to rappel down.

But Aurora Sinclair was already at the base of the tower. Her incredible speed hadn’t slowed in the slightest. She kicked off a ledge on the tower’s exterior, vaulting up one story like a predator pouncing on its prey.

Her hands latched onto a window ledge on the tower’s exterior. Using her feet for purchase, she began to scale the tower with her bare hands.

Her gaze was resolute, her lips pressed into a thin line, her face a mask of grim determination.

The experienced assassin began rappelling down the rope.

Suddenly, the rope went taut. A petite figure shot up from below and was now right at his feet.

Startled, the assassin began to kick furiously, trying to knock her off. But Aurora Sinclair seized his foot and squeezed with crushing force.

A blood-curdling scream tore through the air, followed by the sickening CRACK of bone. His foot was completely useless.

Leveraging herself upward again, Aurora Sinclair wrapped her arms and legs firmly around his waist, clinging to him like a koala.

The assassin felt as if he were caught in a giant vise, squeezing the air from his lungs.

He struggled to reach for the dagger at his waist, but Aurora Sinclair simply snapped his wrist.

Her movements were clean and efficient, without an ounce of hesitation.

Veins bulged on the assassin’s temples from the pain. He tried to muster his strength to fight her off, but a far greater force slammed into him, shattering his ribs and sending a spray of blood from his mouth.

’She isn’t a Martial Arts Master…’

The fear in the assassin’s eyes peaked. The Power that had invaded his body was potent and tyrannical, relentlessly tearing at his insides.

’If I’d known the Morgan Family was hiding a peerless master, I’d rather have died than take this mission!’

Aurora Sinclair pursed her lips and shifted her grip, raising a fist to his head. “Don’t… I… surrender…”

***

When Beta Morgan drove up, he saw Aurora Sinclair squatting on the ground, studying the sniper rifle. The assassin lay nearby, panting on the ground like a half-dead dog.

They were surrounded by a circle of bodyguards in black, their weapons trained on the assassin on the ground.

“Aurora—”

Clutching his injured shoulder, a pale-faced Alvin Morgan ran over. The heart that had been lodged in his throat finally dropped back into place the moment he saw her.

“Are you hurt?”

He scanned her up and down anxiously. Aside from a few bullet holes in her sweatsuit, she seemed unharmed… No, wait. Her hands were bleeding…

“Let me see your hands—”

Aurora Sinclair reflexively hid her hands behind her back, but he forcefully pulled them out.

Her palms and fingers were torn and bloody, clearly injured from her climb up the tower.

A pained look flashed in Alvin Morgan’s eyes. His face hardened as he quickly pulled her toward a nearby medical vehicle.

“Your shoulder is bleeding,” Aurora Sinclair said, but Alvin Morgan remained silent. His expression was grim; he looked angry.

Inside the vehicle, the accompanying doctor immediately reached for Aurora Sinclair’s arm, but she pulled away.

The doctor looked at Alvin Morgan, at a complete loss. ’The patient isn’t cooperating!’

Alvin Morgan watched her for a moment before saying in a low voice, “Everyone out. Beta Morgan, you stay.”

Only the three of them remained in the medical vehicle. Beta Morgan expertly opened several medical kits and began selecting medications. “Aurora, roll up your sleeve. I need to give you a shot in a minute.”

Aurora Sinclair didn’t move. She glanced at the medical kits, a flicker in her eyes.

“Is there a problem?” Alvin Morgan asked.

Aurora Sinclair shook her head. She glanced at Alvin Morgan again, then finally pulled off her jacket.

A thin black vest, covered in weighted pouches, was gradually revealed. Beside them, Beta Morgan’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open.

’D-don’t tell me she climbed the tower wearing this?’

Aurora Sinclair removed the weighted pouches from her vest and tossed them to the floor. The heavy thuds made Beta Morgan’s expression turn serious.

’Judging by the sound, each pouch weighed at least five kilograms, and she’d already tossed ten of them.’

After tossing the weighted pouches aside, Aurora Sinclair unfastened the black vest, revealing a sleeveless tank top underneath.

Her long arms were toned and powerful, with the faint outline of lean muscle.

There were several small, pale, circular scars on her upper arm, looking very much like track marks from long-term injections.

A ten-centimeter-long old scar ran down her forearm, standing out like a hideous, fleshy centipede.

Beta Morgan sucked in a sharp breath. ’Is that… a knife wound?’

Alvin Morgan’s brow furrowed, his handsome face now a complete blank. He took her hand and examined it closely.

His cool fingertips traced the line of the scar. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

Aurora Sinclair glanced at the old scar on her arm and shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt…”

Alvin Morgan’s gaze darkened. He picked up a clean gauze pad and began to carefully clean her fingers. “This will sting a bit. Try to bear it.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Aurora Sinclair replied.

Alvin Morgan froze, his fingers suddenly trembling. After a long moment, he asked, “This doesn’t hurt either?”

The iodine-soaked gauze touched the edge of her wound.

Aurora Sinclair looked into his eyes, hesitated, then gave a slight nod. Her soft “Mm,” stunned Beta Morgan.

’She actually can’t feel pain…’

Aurora Sinclair’s palms were covered in small cuts. The worst were on her fingertips and the webbing between her thumb and index finger; the gashes were deep, and blood continued to well up. Alvin Morgan applied a hemostatic powder, but it had little to no effect.

Aurora Sinclair’s skin seemed like dead flesh; it healed with excruciating slowness. No matter how much powder he applied, the blood still seeped from the wounds.

“Sir, her wounds aren’t closing…”

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