Chapter 164

At that moment, Emma saw Josiah. Josiah said, “Miss Wilson, even if you ask Mr. Hall, he doesn't know. He just arrived.” He had overheard Liam's warning outside the door. Liam was Team Thunder's boss, and Emma was Liam's boss. He couldn't afford to offend them; his words were subtly assisting Liam in establishing an alibi. Liam secretly glanced at him in approval.

Emma didn't suspect anything when she heard Josiah. She asked, “So? Is he still alive?”

“Dead,” Josiah replied regretfully. “Miss Wilson, did he say anything else to you that night?”

Emma felt a wave of disappointment. She shook her head. “No, he only drew something for me.” She'd considered various possibilities. What did his painting mean? Was it a cross? She lacked information. As she pondered, her headache returned.

Liam quickly supported her. “Emma, your body’s just recovering. Don’t overwork yourself. Why don’t you redraw the painting for me, and I’ll help you analyze it?”

Emma nodded, copied the image from memory, and was discharged soon after. She then took sick leave from Charon Military School, both to recuperate and to investigate the painting with Liam.

Chapter 164

“Many people said Justine died of a heart attack,” Emma said, “but the autopsy showed no evidence of one.”

Liam responded, “So, at the very least, we can rule out heart disease.”

Emma mused, “What method could kill someone so unexpectedly, in front of so many people at the Krot Competition? She was foaming at the mouth, her limbs twitching… Could it have been poison?”

Liam had been searching for the bomber, but the internet address pointed overseas. Even if the murderer were extradited, it would take considerable time. While it seemed like a dead end, Liam had made a significant discovery.

“Do you remember Blanche?” he asked.

“Yes,” Emma replied, instantly recalling her. “Did she remember anything?”

Liam shook his head. “Her skills were ordinary, but I found her former coach. He witnessed Justine's death firsthand. He was standing here,” Liam said, indicating a general area on the field.

Emma’s eyes widened. A low pile net! Justine died crossing it!

Liam continued, “Emma, you need to personally investigate that low pile net.”

Overwhelmed, Emma threw herself into Liam's arms. He embraced her tightly, noticing her tears. His voice was rough. “Why are you crying?”

“I just… want to thank you,” Emma replied, her thoughts swirling. Thank you for always being there. For your love, your salvation. Even without words, I feel it. You always rescue me.

Three days later, Emma returned to Charon Military School, training harder than ever to compete in the year-end Krot Competition – the only way she could revisit the site. People often saw her training early and late. Sometimes she would stare blankly at the low pile net. Her leave had already cost her points; to qualify, she needed top marks.

Lane noticed something was troubling Emma. One night, she observed Emma's training from afar, approaching only after she finished.

“Miss Wilson,” Lane said, “did something happen during your leave?” Lane understood Emma wouldn't take leave unless absolutely necessary.

“I want to participate in the Krot Competition,” Emma confessed.

Lane’s eyes lit up. “Really? That's my dream competition!”

“That's why I’m training so hard,” Emma replied, suddenly experiencing a sharp pain in her calf.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Lane asked, rushing to support her.

“I’m fine,” Emma said. “I probably strained my calf from the intense training.”

Lane frowned. “You should rest. You don’t need this intensity. Don’t forget the midterm exams in two weeks.” The midterms were more important than monthly exams. The format was unannounced, but rumors suggested a potentially dangerous field battle.

“It’s not worth failing the midterms because of overtraining,” Lane warned.

“Lane,” Emma said, grasping her hand, “no matter what, we have to be safe during this exam!”

Lane was startled but nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry, Miss Wilson. I’ll always be there for you!”

Emma, I want to be with you forever and take care of you. Justine’s words echoed in her mind. Lane and Justine were similar in some ways, yet utterly different.

A sigh escaped in the darkness. Dummy, I’ll avenge you soon, Emma thought.

The next day, the instructor began a new course. “Attention! At ease! Today, we start live-fire training! You’ll handle real weapons. But weapons are dangerous! Anyone disregarding safety rules, whether injuring themselves or others, will face the consequences!”

Emma, in uniform, carried an automatic rifle. They faced the forest, the instructor describing their weapons: automatic rifles, assault rifles, machine guns, carbines, and submachine guns. He demonstrated firing an automatic rifle into a distant, unpopulated area, the sound powerful and impressive.

It was the students' first time handling real weapons, and their excitement was palpable. Each had a target.

“First attempt,” the instructor reminded them. “Hitting the target is excellent; a bullseye earns a reward. Safe! Safe! Be safe!”

“I hear you!” the students responded. From a safe distance, they fired.

Emma remained calm, her eyes narrowed on the target, her thoughts consumed by Justine’s death. A boy, assuming her stillness was fear, sneered. “Miss Wilson, didn’t expect you to be afraid. It’s okay; girls are weaker. This is just practice; it won't kill you! Watch!” He fired a shot.