A strong, crew-cut man suddenly lunged out from behind the bearded thug. With a swish, he flicked out a silver dagger and stabbed it hard into the hand of the red-haired youth who was threatening Edward King. The redhead screamed in pain and immediately let go of Edward King; his fruit knife clattered to the ground, and blood gushed from his palm, which had been pierced straight through. The man rolled forward, charged at the short guy, and landed a fierce elbow to his abdomen. The short guy’s eyes rolled back, he let out a miserable cry, and collapsed backward.

Grace Miller stared in astonishment as the man subdued all three thugs in just a few moves. He hadn’t expected this turn of events at all. He had been ready to act himself, but now it seemed there was no need.

The last blond-haired thug gripped his fruit knife, cold sweat on his face, watching as the man took down the boss and the redhead in an instant. Everything had happened in just a few seconds, and the situation had completely reversed.

“Ah!” he shouted, aiming the knife at the man and lunging forward. The man turned and kicked straight out. With a dull thud, the blond was sent flying into the alley wall, his eyes rolling back, blood trickling from his mouth and nose—he looked to have suffered serious internal injuries.

“Coco!” After dealing with the thugs, the man hurried to Edward King’s side. By now, Edward King was limp and powerless. Seeing the man approach, she couldn’t hold back any longer and threw herself into his arms, sobbing.

“Uncle Turner! Wuwu…”

“There, there, don’t cry. As soon as I got your call, I came right over. Good thing I made it in time.”

Grace Miller stood to the side, sizing up the man.

Army green camouflage pants, a black tight vest, muscles knotted all over his bronze body, and a long, thin scar on the left side of his neck, looking especially fierce. He must be someone Edward King knows. Uncle Turner? Surname Wei?

Grace Miller evaluated the man’s moves just now. His attacks were swift and ruthless, and extremely precise. This Uncle Turner was clearly very confident in his skills. Even when Edward King was being threatened with a knife, he dared to throw a dagger straight through the redhead’s hand, obviously certain he wouldn’t accidentally hurt Edward King. This level of skill was clearly the result of military combat training. Compared to his previous life, Grace Miller thought this man was a bit stronger. But as he was now, he figured he could win against him, though it would come at a heavy price. Military combat techniques are always deadly and brutal; even if you’re stronger, you have to pay a price to win. That’s just a fundamental difference in style.

“Sir, these guys should have also captured a girl. Could you please help us save her?” Grace Miller saw Edward King still sobbing in Uncle Turner’s arms, and worried that if they delayed any longer, something might happen to Lily Scott, so he simply stated his purpose for coming.

“They got another one?” The man’s face darkened, and a natural aura of dominance radiated from his imposing figure. “Do you know where?”

Grace Miller shook his head. “That’s what I came for.” But he pointed at the two wounded men still groaning on the ground. “They definitely know.”

In the arms of the man surnamed Wei, Edward King lifted her pale face and looked at Grace Miller, her eyes shining faintly.

……

Lily Scott had indeed been kidnapped. By the time the three of them found her at Biyun Hair Salon, the girl had already been tied up in a secret room for a while. There was another accomplice in the salon, who was also instantly knocked down by the man. The incident was thus resolved satisfactorily. Lily Scott, with tears in her eyes, kept bowing and thanking the three of them. Seeing her frightened expression, Grace Miller knew that the upcoming school transfer was inevitable. But the rape case that had made the news should no longer have any updates.

On the way back, Uncle Turner scolded Grace Miller quite a bit. In his view, since Grace Miller couldn’t even protect himself, getting involved in such a dangerous situation was either courting death or just youthful recklessness.

It was clear that Uncle Turner was a good-hearted person. Grace Miller also learned why he had come: Edward King, while secretly following Grace Miller, saw him tailing the short guy, and, recalling the homeroom teacher’s earlier warning, realized something must be wrong. She immediately called Uncle Turner, who lived nearby.

The four kidnappers were all taken away by the police who arrived with sirens blaring, and the seriously injured were sent to the emergency room.

By the time everything was settled and he got home, it was nearly seven o’clock. The sky was already growing dim.

“Click.” Grace Miller gently opened the security door at home. The living room light was on. The classic news broadcast music was playing halfway through—just starting.

He walked into the living room, changed his shoes, and put his backpack on the small table by the door.

His younger sister, Henry Miller, was sitting on the sofa, tending to her freshly washed, damp hair. Her snow-white legs stretched out from under her denim shorts, her body slanted against the sofa, and her ample chest was pressed into an alluring curve. When she saw Grace Miller come in, Henry Miller glanced over, then turned her body indifferently, showing no sign of greeting him.