Chapter 158: Escape from the Village

Etta frowned. According to Sol, there were at least dozens of men guarding the village entrance, and the road out was mostly flat, with no places to hide. This was going to be difficult. Irene, however, smiled and said, "We can leave openly." As she spoke, she glanced at Sol. Etta quickly understood Irene's plan and cautioned, "Be careful, he's not a good person." Irene took some bandages and anti-inflammatory medicine from her backpack and handed them to Etta with a smile. "It's okay. As long as we keep him under control, we can use his identity to our advantage." She then turned to Mag and asked, "What about you? Where's Saroyan?" This was puzzling to Irene. Mag was always with Saroyan, but ever since earlier, Irene had only seen Mag following her. Mag couldn't hold back her emotions any longer and began to cry, tears streaming down her face. "He doesn't want me anymore. He's gone, and I can't find him…" Seeing Mag so distressed, Irene gently pulled her into a comforting embrace. Irene sighed inwardly. Mag was pregnant, after all… Etta stared at Mag for a few seconds before suddenly asking, "Are you Miss Mag Slythas?" Mag lifted her head from Irene's shoulder, looking at Etta in confusion, her expression clearly asking, "How do you know my name?" Etta nodded. "I'm a soldier, assigned to rescue you. Your father is very worried." Mag buried her face in Irene's shoulder again, her expression darkening. Why wasn't it her mother who sent someone to find her? Irene patted Mag soothingly. "We need to leave here first. The village chief claimed there were no trafficked women here, that they were sold off two days ago, and no new ones have arrived yet. We must find the other girls who are still being held." Etta nodded in agreement. After taking the medicine and bandaging his wounds, he found some milk and bread in the village chief's house, ate to regain his strength, and felt he could still go on. Now that he was on guard, he didn’t think anyone in the village could stop him. In the military, Etta was always first in marksmanship, and besides, Irene also had a gun. Etta had the right to use force in self-defense while on duty, including shooting if necessary. Irene pushed Sol into the car, saying, "You should know that your condition is worsening; the poison is deep in your system. Take us to where you're hiding the others, and I'll give you the antidote." As Sol’s face turned pale, Irene’s lips curled into a smirk. "Of course, you only have half an hour before the antidote becomes ineffective." "And don’t even think about escaping. Otherwise, I can't guarantee that your arm won’t break," Irene added with a smile, lightly resting her hand on Sol's right arm. Etta, sitting in the backseat, momentarily tensed. The look in Irene's eyes and the tone of her voice had an unsettling, dangerous vibe, one that Etta recognized as a sign of something darker, more sinister. His hand instinctively moved towards his gun. But just as quickly, Irene's demeanor returned to normal. Etta observed her quietly, finding nothing outwardly amiss—just a girl who seemed cold and mysterious with some impressive skills. Was he overthinking things? No. Something wasn’t right. Etta’s intuition told him that there was something about Irene that felt off, something that made him uneasy. But she didn’t seem to harbor any ill intentions or hostility towards him, leaving Etta confused. So, he remained silent throughout the drive. The village chief’s wife trembled in the driver's seat, terrified. This was why Irene had chosen her over the village chief to drive—her son’s life clearly mattered more to her than her husband’s business. Etta stripped Sol of his clothes and put them on himself. Coincidentally, both he and Sol had buzz cuts, thanks to a girl Sol had met at the gym who had a thing for short hair and found Sol somewhat attractive. When the village chief's wife finally started the car, she realized what Irene was up to. The man they had locked in the cellar was now dressed as Sol, with his head turned away, holding Irene close. In the dark, it was impossible to tell who was in the car. As the car approached the village entrance, about 200-300 meters away, someone stepped out to block the road. Although they recognized the license plate as the village chief’s, they were puzzled to see his wife driving. The leader of the group was the second son of the village chief’s third brother—a nephew the village chief considered most like himself. This man was extremely cautious and clever. While others might have let the car pass, he ordered it to be stopped. Seeing someone signaling her to stop, the village chief's wife panicked and glanced nervously at Irene in the backseat. Irene, seemingly indifferent, snuggled closer to Etta and said, "Just yell at them like you normally would." The village chief’s wife shivered under Irene's cold gaze. She reluctantly stuck her head out of the window. The moment she saw her nephew, her frustration boiled over. These fools! How could they not realize something was wrong? And they dared to stop her car! Her son was poisoned, lying unconscious in the trunk, and all she wanted was to get Irene out of here quickly so she could check on him. Immediately, the village chief’s wife began shouting at her nephew, “Move it! Useless brat! When your mother was pregnant with you, I should’ve forced her to have an abortion! Get lost!” “Are you blind?” Her nephew frowned. “Aunt, I just want to check what’s going on.” His eyes flickered with suspicion as he tried to peer into the backseat. The village chief’s wife was so scared she nearly had a heart attack. There was no way she could let him see inside! In a panic, she started hitting her nephew’s shoulder. “Get out of my way! You don’t stop your uncle when he’s driving! Let me tell you, you know my son’s temper!” “Move!” Her nephew started to get angry at being hit like this. Just then, Irene peeked out from the backseat, speaking in a sweet voice, “What’s wrong, Mom? Don’t be mad.” Her face, illuminated by the flashlight of a phone, was stunningly beautiful, leaving her nephew in a daze. He asked absentmindedly, “Aunt, is this Mag’s daughter?” A hand quickly pulled Irene back inside. The village chief’s wife slapped her nephew across the face. “Whose woman are you staring at? Get lost!” Hearing the playful banter from the backseat, her nephew’s doubts vanished, and he waved for them to pass. What he didn’t know was that there was another girl lying in the backseat, and the playful banter he heard had come from the computer’s speakers.