Chapter 157: The Third Young Master of the Norman Family

The truth is, the Third Young Master had spent most of his time in the military, where even in battle, he was surrounded by tens of thousands of soldiers. He had little to no interaction with ordinary civilians. Even before joining the military, he lived a life of luxury as the Third Young Master. He traveled in cars, with chauffeurs driving him around, didn’t need to do any housework, and his leisure activities included racing, attending salons, and practicing shooting. This time, his superiors felt he was too distanced from the common people, so they decided to assign him a task to help him gain some real-world experience. The mission itself wasn’t particularly difficult. He was simply supposed to rescue a woman from a village. The other women there were secondary objectives. This mission wasn’t recorded in the military’s official files; it was more of a favor his superior was doing for a friend at the police station. All their informants had been deployed, and since this was an old case of human trafficking, the newly appointed police chief was determined to thoroughly investigate it. As a result, they sought help from the military. But Etta learned a harsh lesson about his lack of experience with ordinary people. He was vigilant around criminals, but he had no defense against regular villagers. This greatly surprised the village chief. The police officers the village chief had previously dealt with were highly experienced—they never ate unfamiliar food or drank water offered by strangers. It was nearly impossible to incapacitate a police officer. But Etta? He ate the food prepared by the village chief’s wife, not suspecting a thing. As a result, he was drugged and subdued. Though he regained consciousness quickly, it was enough time for the village chief to tie him up and lock him in the cellar. Etta’s mistake was understandable, though. These villagers appeared very honest and simple. To them, useful people included women and children, but a tall, strong man was of no use to them. When they encountered someone they couldn’t use, they would generously offer food and share tales of their local customs, hoping the visitors from the big city would stay overnight and spend money. Moreover, the village chief didn’t abduct just any woman. They avoided women who were dressed too flamboyantly and targeted those who appeared kind and innocent, like female students. Such girls, even if deceived, were less likely to try to escape. Etta had been gathering information from these seemingly trustworthy villagers, inadvertently exposing himself. Had Irene not arrived, he would have likely been starved to death in that cellar. Irene held up a set of keys in front of the village chief and asked directly, “Which one?” The village chief, trembling, pointed it out, and Irene used it to release Etta. Etta asked, “Who are you?” Irene replied nonchalantly, “Just a female student who was abducted.” Etta raised an eyebrow, looking at the bruised and trembling village chief and his son, Sol, standing behind Irene. Was she really just an ordinary abducted female student? Irene, however, didn’t care about what Etta was thinking. After unlocking the chains, she skillfully popped Etta’s dislocated arm back into place. Etta winced, pain throbbing at his temple, but he remained silent. Irene glanced at him, thinking he was a promising candidate. Someone who could endure such pain without making a sound must have a strong will. It was a shame, though. The marks of military training were too deeply ingrained in him. People like him were best kept at a distance. They weren’t useful to her and were better left alone, so as not to arouse suspicion. In truth, Etta’s body temperature was worryingly high. Irene could feel the heat of his breath, and he was seriously injured. But he managed to stand up, leaning against the wall for support, without needing Irene’s help. Irene felt a twinge of regret. Such a good asset—why wasn’t he a mercenary in her employ? When Etta emerged from the cellar, the first thing he saw was the little girl lying on the floor and Mag. Mag was standing tensely in the room, having locked all the doors, nervously gripping a knife. She nearly stabbed Etta out of shock when she saw Irene helping him out. But Etta paid little attention to Mag. To him, she looked like a fragile girl he could easily overpower with one hand, even in his current state. What caught his attention was the little girl lying on the ground. Seeing where Etta was looking, Irene asked, “What’s wrong?” Etta replied calmly, “She’s the one who got me caught.” At that time, Etta could have escaped from the villagers. He had just regained consciousness and sensed something was wrong. He had memorized the patrol routes of the villagers and was preparing to flee when he saw the little girl being beaten by the village chief’s wife. Etta had thought she was another abducted child. The hatred in her eyes as she looked at the village chief’s wife, combined with her tattered clothes, made Etta think she was another victim. Etta, who had a much younger sister, was reminded of her as he looked at the little girl. So, he decided to take her with him. Little did he know, this sweet-looking child, who called him uncle and thanked him, was a malicious little girl. She informed the village chief of his plans. Etta was recaptured and thrown into the cellar. He couldn’t escape this time. Looking at the unconscious little girl now, Etta felt a deep sense of unease. He couldn’t bear to see a child who should have been innocent turned into something so awful by such terrible customs. But there was nothing he could do. Irene understood why Etta felt this way, though she couldn’t fully comprehend it. To Irene, Etta seemed to have an idealistic view, wanting to believe in the best of people. This little girl could still be saved. There was no need to be so distressed. Even though similar things happened elsewhere, there would always be people like Etta and Irene to uphold justice. There would always be good people in the world. Irene noticed the bracelet on the little girl’s wrist and her expression changed slightly. The girl was wearing an expensive Orange brand Bluetooth smartwatch that could make calls and track locations. There was no signal here, but if they left the village chief’s estate, they could connect. According to the village chief, the little girl had an aunt who lived less than twenty kilometers away. Every evening, the girl would call her cousin to chat. It was about that time now. Irene swiftly removed the watch from the girl’s wrist and threw it away. As Irene and Etta discussed which route to take once they left the village, Sol’s eyes lit up. Irene glanced at him. She easily forced Sol to reveal that there were guards at the village entrance.