Yvette stared at Charles for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh. Charles clenched his fists, unable to lift his head. He knew he'd been injected with No. 7 Toxin. Even if they found a miracle doctor, he wouldn't return to his peak; he'd be a wreck. As head of Blaze Hall, he'd made countless enemies. If they found him like this, the attempts on his life would be endless. He thought it better to end it himself than be humiliated.

Charles struggled to speak. "Yve, even if I recover, I'll be useless. Don't worry about me."

Yvette's expression hardened, irritation and fierceness etched into her brows. "Better to live struggling than to die. If your hands don't work, use your feet. If your feet fail, use your head. If your body's gone, use your brains. Stop whining like a child. If I'd known I'd teach you to be like this, I'd have shot you then."

Flying Fish nodded. In their world, as in Charles's, dignity meant little; survival was everything.

Charles was stunned, unable to respond. He'd always seen Yvette as a ruthless trainer, valuing dignity above all. No one had ever told him that living, even surviving, mattered more. The Goodman family had ingrained in him that falling into enemy hands meant suicide was the only way to preserve dignity.

Yvette disliked owing favors. She knew Charles wouldn't be in this mess with Braydon if it weren't for her. Years ago, she'd promised Damian to take on an apprentice and chose Charles from seventy-two candidates. She wasn't one for sympathy; obedient ones got help, others didn't.

After a while, Charles looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "Yve, I want to live. Even if my body's wrecked, I believe I can climb back to the top."

Yvette's gaze softened, her long fingers tapping the armrest, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Your body won't be wrecked. Tomorrow, someone will bring the antidote."

Charles, and even Flying Fish, were stunned. They both knew Yvette didn't speak lightly.

Seeing the mood lighten, Flying Fish plopped onto the sofa, having remained standing earlier for a quick escape if Yvette became angry. Neither asked where Yvette obtained the antidote.

"Hey, Charles!" Flying Fish exclaimed. "You heard the boss—there'll be an antidote tomorrow. Pull yourself together! I'm starting to wonder if I rescued the wrong guy. The Blaze Hall leader everyone's talking about sure isn't acting like this!"

Since his rescue, Charles had been unemotional until Yvette arrived. He managed a smile, making Flying Fish gawk as if witnessing a miracle.

Charles chuckled bitterly. "I'm no longer the Blaze Hall leader. I'm just Charles now."

Flying Fish shrugged, then jabbed at Charles again. "True enough, Braydon's ruthless. You've been with him for years, and instead of talking, he hits you with No. 7 Toxin. Clearly, he's out to torment, not kill. No wonder he has Mysonna under his thumb."

She then flattered Yvette, gazing at her with admiration. "Lucky for you, our boss is all-powerful and even got the antidote for No. 7 Toxin. Otherwise, you'd be toast."

Yvette fiddled with her phone, a new message arriving. [Ms. Zeller, we found the traitor. It is Fiona, a Level 2 Pharmacist. She took 15 million dollars from Braydon and has been expelled from the lab.]

Yvette's eyes, downcast beneath long lashes, held a clear, cold gaze.

Charles paused at Flying Fish's words. Is her boss the same as my mentor? he thought. This girl had infiltrated the Goodman family, extracted him, and hidden him without raising alarms—no small feat. He knew the Goodman family's security well. Getting out alone was hard enough, let alone with him. Clearly, she wasn't just anyone. The No. 7 Toxin, from Mysonna's top medical labs, was something even Braydon could only acquire through shady means. Yet, Yvette had the antidote effortlessly. Braydon always tried various strategies to keep Yvette close. Charles used to worry about her, but now he saw his anxiety had been misplaced.

At the Goodman residence, Braydon listened to Fiona's sobbing over the phone, his expression darkening. His carefully planted operative in the lab had been expelled. "How did this happen?" he wondered.

Fiona, oblivious to Braydon's change in demeanor, continued her rambling. Having been thrown out of the lab, she clung to Braydon for support.

"Shut up," Braydon said. "I'll set you up at the Goodman family's pharmaceutical company. If you don't win an award at next year's international medical competition, you're done for."

Terrified, Fiona repeatedly promised high rankings.

Braydon hung up, his face twisted with terrifying ferocity. A knock sounded. "Come in," he said.

Carson, head of Punishment Hall and Braydon's most trusted subordinate, entered. His scholarly face contrasted with his cold demeanor. With a respectful bow, he spoke without warmth. "Boss, the Tiger Head issue has been dealt with. Burley's family had a car accident this morning—no survivors. His mistress took the money, and the three-month-old in her belly is gone."

Braydon nodded, lighting a cigar. "Charles was rescued yesterday by someone Yvette sent."

Carson, already aware, thought, Charles, stubbornly clinging to his rules, is oblivious. Years ago, only Charles and I remained in the final test of the seventy-two candidates. I am superior in every aspect, yet she chose Charles as her disciple. But what does it matter now if Charles is rescued? The No. 7 Toxin Braydon injected into him is from Mysonna's top labs—no one, not even the Goodman family's pharmaceutical group, can do anything about it. Charles is doomed.

The thought of Charles dying thrilled Carson. Nothing made him happier. He thought, I was the best, and Yvette was blind to pick someone as incompetent as Charles. Carson concealed his cold smile.