C58 Heartless

But honestly, if this guy were really Superman, he wouldn't be chasing down his own sports car.

Superman's got a world to save; he wouldn't waste time on a car chase.

Wang Changyang squinted and, in a flash, recognized the figure.

It was Lin Nan!

"So it's him?"

"Who? What's going on?" Rollen asked, his brow furrowed.

"You see, it's that guy we ran into at the Golden Palace, the one with Rashawn." Vaden explained.

Rollen glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Westley in pursuit.

His expression grew colder as he blurted out, "Has this guy lost his mind? Why is he running after the car?"

"I'm just as clueless," Vaden admitted, looking bewildered.

"Shake him off. No matter how fast he is, he can't outrun a sports car, can he?" Rollen said, his patience wearing thin.

After all, his priority was to be intimate with Aimee; he wasn't in the mood for distractions.

"Got it!"

Vaden floored the accelerator.

The car, a top-of-the-line sports car with exceptional performance, roared to life like a beast unleashed and zoomed away.

Westley, seeing the sudden burst of speed, didn't try to follow. Instead, he gradually slowed down and eventually came to a stop.

"By my calculations, it's just about time," Westley said to himself.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and started walking with an easy stride.

...

The Maybach roared forward, the surrounding scenery blurring into near obscurity.

The internet celebrity in the passenger seat was so thrilled by the breakneck speed that her face turned a bright red, and she let out a series of bizarre shrieks.

Vaden couldn't help but laugh triumphantly, "Young Mr. Freeman, it looks like no matter how tough the kid is, he's no match for a top sports car."

"How could he possibly outrun a sports car? That's just tilting at windmills," Rollen scoffed.

He turned his gaze to Aimee, who was asleep beside him, her long hair whipping in the wind, and his face twisted into a mix of amusement and anticipation.

He resembled a wild beast locking eyes on its prey, his pupils radiating a fearsome glow.

Suddenly, though, a sharp pain and cramps seized his abdomen.

Overwhelmed by an uncontrollable urge, he blurted out, "Quick, pull over!"

"What's the matter?" Vaden inquired.

"My stomach's killing me. I need a bathroom," Rollen groaned in agony.

"Young Mr. Freeman, we're on an interstate highway. There's no restroom here," Vaden said, his eyes bulging.

"Hurry, I can't hold it in. Just stop on the side of the road," Rollen pleaded, his face flushed crimson.

With no other choice, Vaden pulled the car over to the roadside.

Rollen flung open the door and bolted like a rabbit.

In that moment, the dignity of the Freeman family's heir was the last thing on his mind. He sprinted forward for several dozen meters.

Finding a spot hidden from Vaden's view, he dropped his pants by the bushes and crouched down.

A stench wafted from the underbrush.

Rollen's stomach pain was relentless, his bowels erupting like a flood tide.

He nearly passed out from the ordeal.

"Damn it! What's happening? Did I eat something spoiled?" Rollen racked his brain.

His complexion soon turned ashen.

The incessant clicking of a camera shutter filled the air.

Startled, Rollen nearly leaped to his feet when he realized someone was photographing him.

"Who's there? Who's taking pictures of me?"

Westley shook his head, his voice dripping with contempt, "Young Mr. Freeman, your defecating pose is far from flattering."

Straining his eyes in the dim light, Rollen finally made out the gaunt silhouette standing not too far away.

If not Westley, then who?

"Are you behind this?" Rollen's suspicion took shape.

He hadn't consumed anything spoiled that evening, and he'd been feeling fine.

The only oddity was when Westley had touched a spot under his armpit back at the Golden Palace.

It all added up – Westley was the culprit.

"You're quite perceptive," Westley admitted without a hint of denial.

"Why are you doing this?" Rollen demanded, trying to sound more intimidating.

However, squatting on the ground in the midst of his business, he truly was a pitiful sight.

"I'm obviously doing this to embarrass you," Westley chuckled.

"Do you realize who I am? Cross me, and you'll face the consequences," Rollen threatened.

"I'm aware you're the Freeman family's young master."

"You know I'm the young master, yet you dare to treat me this way? Aren't you scared of the Freeman family's retribution?" Rollen demanded, seething.

"Had I been scared of the Freeman family, I wouldn't have acted," Westley replied coolly, shaking his head.

Suddenly, he flicked something from his hand.

A blur shot forward, striking Rollen on the back of his head.

Rollen, poor thing, toppled onto his own mess, unconscious before he could react.

Westley shook his head, fighting back nausea.

Still, he didn't forget to snap a few close-ups of Young Mr. Freeman with his vintage phone.

Those pictures might come in handy later on.

Vaden parked on the roadside, grumbling, "Could Young Mr. Freeman have diarrhea? He's been gone ages."

His girlfriend stayed silent, busy snapping selfies with the Maybach.

Perfect for flaunting on her WeChat Moments.

"Why not make the most of our time and have a quickie?" Vaden suggested, caressing her.

"No, we might be seen," blushed the internet celebrity.

"It's dead at night. Who's going to stop us?"

Vaden's hand had reached his influencer girlfriend's thigh, his urgency palpable.

"Are you that desperate?"

A voice thundered in Vaden's ear, startling him into impotence.

Recognizing Westley outside the car, he blurted, "Why is it you again?"

Westley remained silent, simply reaching out to grab Vaden's collar.

With a slight tug, he hoisted Vaden's hefty frame into the air.

"What do you want?" Vaden shivered with fear.

Westley's expression remained unchanged as he casually waved his hand, delivering two sharp slaps to Vaden's face.

The force behind the slaps was intense, leaving Vaden seeing stars, his ears ringing incessantly.

"You dare to hit me?" Vaden exclaimed, clutching his face.

"Yes, I dare," Westley retorted confidently.

With a swift motion, Westley yanked Vaden closer and cocked his knee.

"Bang!"

Westley's knee collided with Vaden's midsection, nearly shattering his internal organs.

Vaden let out a wail akin to a pig being butchered, writhing in agony on the ground.

He became a living punching bag, mercilessly thrashed by Westley.

The internet celebrity, witnessing her boyfriend's brutal beating, turned deathly pale with fear. She fumbled for her phone, intending to call the police.

"If you even think about calling the police, I'll smash your fake nose and chin to bits. I'll turn you into a hideous freak no one could love for the rest of your life. My word is my bond!"

The voice that issued this threat seemed to emanate from the very bowels of hell.

The internet celebrity shuddered uncontrollably.

Lifting her gaze, she met Westley's eyes, which bore the malevolent intensity of a demon.

His gaze was utterly devoid of any semblance of human emotion.

He was the epitome of cold, ruthless indifference.