C61 Sleep in Each Other's Arms

At this moment, Aimee lay asleep on the large pink bed. Her cheeks were flushed, as though she had been drinking. Her black hair spilled carelessly across the pillow, framing her delicate and stunning features as if they were painted. Aimee's beauty was undeniable. It was found in her playful charm, in her flawless complexion untouched by makeup, and in her vibrant youthfulness.

Olivia's beauty, on the other hand, was the kind that kept people at arm's length. Aimee's, however, was the kind that drew them in. The only downside was her unremarkable figure. Quite unremarkable, indeed!

"God really does seem to balance things out. When He opens a window, He closes a door," Westley mused with a soft smile. He watched Aimee sleep, her long lashes fluttering unconsciously, adding to her playful allure.

But when Westley touched Aimee's wrist, it was burning hot. Her skin felt as if it were on fire. At his gentle touch, Aimee began to squirm restlessly.

"The delay earlier probably allowed the poison to start attacking her nerves," Westley silently cursed. If it hadn't been for Mr. Ferguson's interruption, the poison wouldn't have spread so rapidly. This drug targeted the central nervous system, diminishing the host's control over their own body. In essence, during the drug's active period, the host became a puppet, incapable of independent thought, driven solely by desire and instinct.

Westley recalled a special mission the Hidden Dragon Squad had once undertaken. An evil organization in a small EU country had used a similar psychotropic drug to control its followers. Once exposed to the drug, people became irritable and aggressive, their physical capabilities significantly enhanced while their mental faculties slipped away.

The organization's leader manipulated his followers with repeated psychological conditioning, turning ordinary individuals into ruthless killers capable of suicide attacks without a hint of pain. This sinister tactic allowed the leader to rise to power, causing widespread chaos and even threatening the local daily life.

Even now, Westley vividly remembered the ferocity of that battle. It wasn't the enemy's raw power or advanced equipment that was formidable. Rather, it was that these mind-controlled individuals were no longer human; they were more akin to zombies.

They were devoid of pain and emotion. Even with limbs severed, as long as a breath remained in them, they would relentlessly bite and attack people.

Yet, to the Hidden Dragon Squad—a mercenary team with formidable individual combat skills and heavily armed—these "zombies" were hardly a concern.

Battling their way through, the squad members managed to apprehend the ringleader.

Surprisingly, the leader was a dwarf, but one with a deep knowledge of concocting potions.

Westley wasn't privy to the details that followed, but one thing was certain: they raked in a substantial bounty.

Now, the poison coursing through Aimee's veins, though different from the leader's creation, was equally lethal.

However, the drug had other applications.

Westley found himself without the necessary herbs to counteract the poison, armed with only a handful of silver needles. But he wasn't fazed.

The "Sky Opening Nine Needles" included a specific technique for detoxification—the "Clear Mind Needle Technique." Despite its ominous name, it was remarkably effective.

Under the influence of precise acupoints and needlework, common toxins could be expelled. Yet, to truly harness its potential, it had to be paired with Westley's Sky Breaking Energy, yielding far greater results.

Previously, using a small amount of his Spiritual Energy would have been inconsequential for Westley.

But today had been exceptionally eventful.

He had brawled on Five-dragon Street in the morning, collected debts for his company in the afternoon, and dealt with matters at the Golden Palace come evening, depleting most of his Spiritual Energy.

Recently recovered from a severe illness, his Dantian and Qi Sea had only just been reconstructed, leaving his reserves of Spiritual Energy quite low.

Forcing the energy would risk further harm to himself.

"You're my sister-in-law; it's my duty to assist you," Westley declared with a sigh. With swift precision, he launched the silver needles.

The needles darted through the air, striking Aimee's detoxifying acupoints with accuracy.

Westley then placed his hands on Aimee's abdomen, coaxing the flow of Spiritual Energy within him.

Like threads of silk, the Spiritual Energy wove from his palms, swiftly infiltrating Aimee's body.

Guided by Westley's expert control, the warm and mysterious Sky Breaking Energy flowed through specific acupoints, relentlessly compressing and expelling the poison. The detoxification process was a true test of Westley's focus. In no time, he was drenched in sweat, his complexion turning ashen—a telltale sign his Spiritual Energy was nearing depletion.

Yet, the critical phase of the detox was upon them. Halting now would risk a dangerous rebound of the poison, inflicting even greater harm on Aimee's body. He had no choice but to continue; he had to see it through.

With a guttural cry, Westley summoned the last reserves of his strength, quickening the energy flow from his Dantian and Qi Sea. A final wisp of Spiritual Energy surged into Aimee like a streak of white light. He swiftly removed the silver needles from her body.

Turning her over so she faced the ground, a few drops of foul-smelling, light purple blood trickled out. Once the blood returned to a healthy red, Westley pressed on hemostatic acupoints to stem the flow. He then wrung out a towel from the basin and meticulously wiped down Aimee's body. The poison was gone, and she lay in peaceful slumber, her body temperature normalizing and the flush on her cheeks receding.

Exhausted from the ordeal, Westley was gasping for breath, soaked as if he'd been pulled from a lake. As he stood up, a wave of vertigo hit him hard. His vision darkened, and he collapsed forward, falling right beside Aimee. They lay side by side, their bodies touching as if embracing in sleep.

An hour later, a red Ferrari pulled into the garage. Olivia, looking weary, stepped out of the car. She had planned to spend the night in her office after a long overtime session. But with an important meeting scheduled for the next morning, she opted to return home for a shower and a change of clothes. Something felt off as she exited the car—Mr. Ferguson was usually there to greet her.

"Where's Mr. Ferguson?" she wondered, carrying her uncertainty into the house.

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