Chapter 98

“Miss Wilson, all the best! Charge!” a voice shouted. “Don’t forget Bob helped you pin your number! Charge!” another yelled.

BANG!

When the starting pistol fired, Emma shot forward like an arrow. She possessed the momentum of a sprinter in a three-mile long-distance run, sprinting from the very beginning. At this pace, observers unfamiliar with the race might have mistaken it for a sprint.

The other long-distance runners were stunned. They wondered, ‘What is wrong with her? Did she run the wrong race?’ Some even sympathized, believing she'd misremembered her event.

However, Emma had already completed the first lap at incredible speed. First lap, second lap, third lap, fourth lap… Although her pace slowed slightly towards the end, she was still more than twice as fast as her competitors. She quickly overtook slower runners two or three times as the distance between them widened. Iris, also competing, blazed with fury as Emma approached. She chased with all her might, but despite her increased speed, she couldn't match Emma's pace. Iris soon ran out of breath, gasping in agony.

Emma, however, continued to accelerate, seemingly inexhaustible. Her performance was superb, leaving everyone astonished.

“Damn. Is this woman a sports robot developed by Torang University?” one whispered. “That’s fast. Does she practice triathlons every day?” another asked.

Bob, too, observed Emma's incredible speed. Her stamina was extraordinary, especially considering her recent push-ups. Running three miles at this pace was astonishing, fueling curiosity about her background.

Not long after, Emma completed the three-mile run. Iris, in second place, had barely finished two miles and was already panting. Half the remaining contestants—mostly those filling numbers or simply "experiencing the atmosphere"—had forfeited. The rest essentially walked the track, transforming the race into a walking competition.

The referee was shocked by Emma's time. Even gym teachers from other schools exclaimed enviously, “Girl, what did you eat daily? How could you run so fast?”

Emma, sweating profusely after more than twelve laps, her face flushed, joked, “I eat bread.” The crowd roared with laughter; even some teachers from other schools were now avid fans.

At that moment, a girl who usually sat in front of Emma in class rushed over. “Emma, here. Drink some water.”

“Thanks.” Emma, thirsty after the race, would have carried water and drunk it while running if the rules allowed. If Iris, struggling behind, knew this, she would likely fume.

Emma unscrewed the bottle and took a large gulp. The cool water initially seemed to dispel fatigue, but a wave of dizziness hit her. She found it difficult to breathe, her body burning. Realizing something was wrong, she spat out the remaining water, but she had already swallowed a small amount.

Emma felt extremely weak. Someone noticed her abnormality. “Emma, what’s wrong? You look so pale.” “Don’t tell me you have a heat stroke?” another asked. “Help! Someone has heatstroke here!” a voice shouted.

Emma's face and lips paled. She intended to say she wasn't suffering from heatstroke, but before she could, she collapsed.

A pair of arms steadied her. Bob, frowning, quickly assessed her vital signs. “Call an ambulance. She is poisoned,” he stated sternly.

The students were terrified. The news of poisoning was unbelievable, and the students who had been ready to mock Emma for a heatstroke fell silent. Someone's life was in danger; someone had poisoned Emma in broad daylight.

Bob immediately induced vomiting. Despite her weakness, Emma, with immense willpower, followed his instructions, expelling the poison. “Quick. Call the ambulance,” someone urged.

The girl who brought the water remembered a girl at the convenience store suggesting she swap the cold water for warm water. Rushed, she hadn't thought much of it then. Now, it was clear the water was the problem. “Something is wrong with this bottle of water, Bob,” she explained, detailing the incident.

Bob instructed her to keep the bottle. After Emma finished vomiting, she fainted, her breathing shallow, threatening shock. Before the ambulance arrived, Bob administered CPR, his movements steady and professional. Everyone watched with bated breath.

The ambulance soon arrived. Perhaps due to the timely intervention, Emma awoke briefly when placed on the stretcher. As she was loaded into the ambulance, she reached out and grasped someone before fainting again.

Bob, stunned for a second by her grip on his sleeve, stared at the crease it left, as if something significant had happened. He silently clenched his fists and entered the ambulance.

“Hey, Bob. You still have a competition this afternoon. Are you not participating?” a friend asked.

Bob, already inside the ambulance, replied, “You take my place.” The ambulance door closed.

At the hospital, Emma awoke feeling fine. Besides the doctor, a handsome young man in a white shirt was present—Bob. “Were you the one who saved me?” she asked.

Bob nodded. “Yes. You woke up before the ambulance arrived and pulled my sleeve. I was worried you had something to tell me, so I came with you. I hope you don’t mind.”

Emma observed him. His demeanor was polite and professional. She didn't know him at the time, but instinctively, when feeling close to death, she would pull someone nearby, a habit ingrained over many years. She only managed a slight tug; otherwise, Bob might have assumed it was something more significant.

Emma pursed her lips. “Thanks.”

“There’s something wrong with the mineral water you drank, but the girl who bought it wasn't necessarily responsible. Someone else was,” Bob said.

“What poison is it?” Emma asked. It had been colorless, odorless, causing suffocation and dizziness.

Bob replied, “It’s a special laboratory poison.”

Emma’s eyes turned cold. She thought, ‘Who would go to such lengths to kill me? Fortunately, I was alert and didn't drink much. Thankfully, Bob’s judgment was accurate, and I was saved. Otherwise, I would have been seriously ill.”