Ch. 438: Mr. Edwards’ Unraveled Life Chapter 438

Chapter 438

Kendall’s face turned pale as she stared at the bullet holes in the wall and the broken whip.

"Quick, alert—"

Panic surged through her as she clutched her head, instinctively seeking cover. She barely spared a thought for Norah. The others in the room were just as terrified.

However… nothing else followed.

For those accustomed to war, the sight of bullets, guns, or even the crackle of fireworks could trigger the belief that another battle had begun.

Yet, there had only been a single gunshot.

Kendall cautiously peeked out to assess the situation.

Norah, on the other hand, saw a tall man step through the window. His face was expressionless, his posture imposing. He moved forward with unwavering authority and pushed open the door.

In an instant, the entire room was blocked from view.

Kendall was utterly stunned. "L-Little Clown… You? Why are you here?"

The Clown—one of the Young Master’s trusted men—had appeared in person. No wonder someone had dared to fire a shot here.

Without hesitation, he stopped in front of Norah and coldly commanded, "This person—nothing is to happen to her."

Kendall froze.

Was Norah telling the truth all along?

Seeing Kendall hesitate, the Clown’s gaze sharpened. "Did you not hear me?"

"I heard you! I heard you!" Kendall replied hastily, not daring to delay.

With a swift glance, Kendall signaled to the others. Understanding the cue, Norah stepped forward to support the injured girl. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the Clown shot her a look. Without another word, Kendall followed him out.

Norah had no choice but to help the girl back to her original position.

Before leaving, the Clown issued one last warning. "You’d better follow my orders. I’ll be keeping an eye on her, and if I find out she’s been harmed, I’ll tear you apart."

"Yes! Don’t worry, Clown! Since you’ve come to deliver the order yourself, I won’t disobey!"

The Clown was no ordinary subordinate—he was a close confidant of the Young Master. And after witnessing his marksmanship, Kendall knew defying him was a death sentence.

The Clown didn’t say another word. Instead, he kicked Kendall.

"Aghh!" Kendall screamed, her wail slicing through the air. But she didn’t dare complain.

Without a backward glance, the Clown turned and left. Moments later, he placed a call. "Young Master, I’ve taken care of everything."

Meanwhile, Norah remained in the room.

With the Clown’s protection, no one dared to lay a finger on her now. Even when she requested supplies from the guards and patrols outside, they complied without hesitation.

She carefully applied medicine to the injured girl, noticing her dry, cracked lips. Dipping a cotton swab in water, she gently moistened them.

Before long, the girl’s eyes fluttered open.

She glanced around, then let out a bitter chuckle. "I’m still alive? In this place, I might as well be dead."

Norah grasped her hand. "Don’t say that. As long as you’re alive, there’s still hope. We—"

The girl was severely wounded. Norah wasn’t just acting out of kindness—she was close by, and with so many people around, it was easier to get things done.

But before she could finish, the girl cut her off with a cold laugh. "Don’t be naive. Being here is worse than death. We call it a slave camp, but we aren’t even slaves."

Her words rang true.

This place was called a "slave camp," yet there was no slave trade. Kendall ran the operation, and any sign of disobedience resulted in brutal beatings. The long whip, lined with barbs, tore into flesh with every strike.

Fights were encouraged. Drug experiments were conducted. And worse—horrific tests that made death seem like mercy.

Norah’s stomach twisted at the thought.

The girl let out another grim laugh. "Once you enter this place, even your corpse will be used."

Hearing this, a chill crept down Norah’s spine.

This wasn’t a slave camp.

This was a hellscape. A devil’s camp.

But she held onto one belief—if sacrificing herself could bring down the Pharaoh, she would do it without hesitation.

On the other side of the camp, the setting was vastly different.

A room decorated with luxury—a plush bed, elegant furnishings, gleaming jewelry, and a table lined with exquisite snacks and drinks.

Journi sat at her desk, indulging in the lavish comforts.

Then—

Kara! The door swung open.

Two tall men stood at the entrance. Their uniforms made them instantly recognizable to Journi.

A moment later, a figure in a black cloak entered. He was covered head to toe, his face concealed by a black mask adorned with sharp fangs.

Journi couldn’t see his features—not even his eyes.

Her heart clenched. Rising swiftly, she approached him with reverence. "Father."

The man remained still, his voice low and hoarse, as though it had been permanently damaged. "Journi, what have you been up to lately?"

Her breath hitched. His visit was no coincidence.

She had been here for a while, yet he had never come before.

"I… I haven’t done anything…" she started.

Before she could finish, he cut her off coldly. "Nothing? Then why did you bring someone back?"

He stepped toward her.

Journi’s pulse quickened, but she quickly composed herself. "Father, she humiliated me—nearly killed me. I just wanted to teach her a lesson, but Elder Ke intervened."

She watched him closely, but the mask revealed nothing. She had no idea whether he was pleased or furious.

Still, he didn’t respond.

Journi took a shaky breath, pinching her palm discreetly before adding, "Father, I don’t understand… Why is Elder Ke protecting this woman so fiercely? Did she target me because she relies on his favor?"

The man chuckled softly. "There’s no need to drag Elder Ke into this. I know exactly who he is."

Journi’s little tricks didn’t fool him.

Between a daughter who appeared out of nowhere and a man who had been by his side for years, his trust lay with the latter.

As for the woman Journi brought back—he intended to see for himself what kind of person had dared to challenge his daughter and had Elder Ke’s protection.

"Father, I’m sorry. I… I was afraid you’d blame me. While my later words may have been exaggerated, everything I said at first was true…" Journi lowered her head, suddenly looking like a scolded child.

His voice remained detached, almost indifferent. "I don’t want to see this happen again."

"…Understood." She dared not argue.

He studied her for a few moments before turning to leave.

Only after he was gone did she dare to lift her head.

Her nails had dug deep into her palms.