Even though he could wrap her in his wings and protect her, this was no different from breaking them. He had to be ruthless sometimes.

Tiffany was stunned. Then, she gritted her teeth. "Okay," she said.

The last time she'd gone out to paint, she'd risked everything, jumping into the lake under the bridge to avoid an assassin. It was a close call; the lake was shallow, and the shore was overgrown with weeds and vines, allowing her to grab hold and climb out. A deeper river would have meant death—either by the killer's bullet or drowning. She couldn't rely on being saved each time.

Taking a deep breath, Tiffany jumped into the pool, which was about 6.5 feet deep. She sank immediately. Water poured into her nose, making her choke. She reached for something to hold onto, but found nothing. Her head felt heavy, and she sank further.

In the pool, her face was red from holding her breath. A strong arm reached out and pulled her up.

"Ah…" she choked, gasping for air. Water filled her ears, but she didn't care. Clinging to Richard, she refused to let go. "It's too scary! Cough, cough, cough. I'm choking. I can't go in the water anymore…"

Her eyes were red, whether from choking or frustration, she didn't know.

Seeing Tiffany give up, Richard didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "It was my fault. I'll hold you this time. Let's try again, okay?"

"No!" Tiffany was close to tears. She'd swallowed water and felt terrible. Her nose and lungs ached.

Before Richard could respond, Tiffany, clinging to him, adopted her most charming and clingy demeanor. Hugging him, she looked pitiful. "Richard, my dear, please carry me. Please. I'm begging you…"

'Who could refuse such a sexy woman with such a soft voice?' Richard thought, his heart softening instantly.

He carried her to the shore. It was windy, and he feared she'd catch cold, so he carried her back to her room.

"Take a hot bath before bed," he said, before turning and leaving.

Watching the closed door, Tiffany blinked in surprise. 'Why the rush? Wouldn't he usually stay?'

Before she could ponder it, a shiver ran through her from the cold. Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought and went to the bathroom for a shower.

The servants had tidied her room, unpacking her luggage and arranging her skincare products and clothes. It was convenient.

Unbeknownst to Tiffany, someone else had been bathing for over half an hour in another room.

That night, she slept soundly and dreamlessly.

On the other side of the forest, in the brightly lit castle, Sandra returned to her room, exhausted. Over the past month, she'd barely recovered from her injuries before being subjected to training and tests. This was her last chance, and she hadn't dared to slack off. She'd worked tirelessly to make herself stand out, to be special in that man's eyes.

Rubbing her sore hands, she went to the window. Downstairs, a man sat quietly on a bench. His black coat blended with the night, but couldn't hide his elegance and nobility. His handsome face held a captivating charm, despite his terrifying, cruel, and cold-blooded nature. He was undeniably charming.

Sandra was captivated. Then, the black cat on his shoulder looked at her, its green eyes glowing eerily. She gasped and retreated.

The man's warning, though distant, rang in her ears: "If you don't want to die, behave yourself."

"Yes…" Overwhelmed, Sandra trembled. "Yes… sir," she managed to reply.

Sandra closed the curtains, pushing the encounter aside. She had an assessment at Misty Ridge the next day. Failure meant becoming a disposable servant, a walking corpse. She couldn't fail.

The next morning, Tiffany woke early. She could only find the medicinal herb she needed in the morning and evening; at other times, it was indistinguishable from ordinary plants.

After breakfast, the group set off.

John instructed his men, "This herb is important. Be careful when picking it. Keep it intact!"

Following Tiffany's instructions from the night before, John had printed photos of the herb and distributed them, believing more people would speed up the search.

The fog in Misty Ridge was so thick that helicopters couldn't fly. They drove as close as possible and then entered the forest on foot. All signals disappeared the moment they entered, even their compasses were useless. It was a terrifying, exciting, and unpredictable place.

The fog was thick, obscuring the path. The men were disoriented. It was Tiffany's first time there, so she turned to Jeremy. "Lord Cooper, you're in charge."

"This way," Jeremy said, navigating the fog with ease. He could sense danger before it arrived. "Careful here. It's unstable."

They avoided the danger.

Richard raised an eyebrow. Leaning against his car, he asked Tiffany, "Where did you find this guy?"

"What do you think? Not bad, huh?" Tiffany felt she'd found a treasure. Few were as loyal and capable as Jeremy. Except for that time he'd been drugged, he was always reliable.

"Not bad," Richard said, watching Jeremy lead the way. A mysterious light flickered in his sharp eyes. "This guy… is interesting."

Under Jeremy's guidance, they reached an area with thinner fog.

"The Red Leaf of Eternal Life grows here," Jeremy said calmly. "Look around, but don't stray too far."

Tiffany spotted a red plant. It looked like an ordinary leaf, but its entire body—leaves and stem—was a pure, glass-like red. It was the herb.

Tiffany carefully plucked the rare medicinal material. John and his men dispersed to search.

Soon, shouts rang out through the forest: "Found it!" "I found one too!" "We have plenty!"

Tiffany was incredulous. 'Is this really going so smoothly?'

Overjoyed, she patted Jeremy on the shoulder. "Lord Cooper, you deserve the credit!" He truly was a walking map.

In her excitement, Tiffany didn't notice a green snake on a tree above her, about to strike.