Chapter 517 Die with Understanding
Since reaching the High Level, James's danger perception had sharpened considerably.
Though he couldn't spot anyone suspicious, his instincts put him on high alert—like being stalked by a predator.
The quiet area ahead suddenly erupted with noise and activity. Several female tour guides appeared around the corner with flags, followed by nearly a hundred middle school students wearing backpacks and carrying water bottles.
They excitedly snapped photos of the Azure Palace Hotel—clearly on a fall field trip to White Lotus Mountain, stopping at this Instagram-worthy spot.
James relaxed slightly, the scene stirring memories of his own youth.
As the students scattered for free time, James was about to head home with his takeout when seven or eight girls surrounded him with selfie sticks extended.
"You're so handsome! Take a picture with us!"
He was puzzled—he wasn't a celebrity or particularly good-looking. Why would they want photos with him? When he tried to decline, the girls grabbed his arms and legs, taking over a dozen group photos.
'These girls are treating me like I'm a tourist attraction,' James thought, giving up and posing for their photos.
That's when he noticed a tour guide smiling at him. Something about that simple smile sent his senses into overdrive.
The beautiful guide raised her left hand, pointing her flag toward James. A flash of cold light—seven thin needles shot toward him.
A chill ran up James's spine. He pushed the clinging girls away and used his takeout container to block the needles.
He couldn't dodge—any sudden movement would endanger the girls around him.
All seven hair-thin needles disappeared into the food container without a trace.
The guide narrowed her eyes and pointed her flag again. This time, nine needles shot out—targeting not only James but several schoolgirls.
James blocked five with his takeout, flicked away three with his left hand, but the last needle was about to hit a girl's neck. With no time to deflect it, he reached out and caught it bare-handed.
His palm stung sharply. Looking down, he watched his hand turn black almost instantly. The powerful toxin spread rapidly, numbing his left shoulder.
Gritting his teeth, James fixed an icy stare on the guide. She was a hitman, sent to kill him.
"Miss Guide! We took more than ten photos with him—don't forget our payment!" The energetic schoolgirls, oblivious to the danger, hadn't even noticed the needles that nearly took their lives. They happily approached the guide with their phones.
"Good job, girls. Everyone gets paid," she replied with a radiant smile, glancing at James before innocently handing each girl ten dollars.
James exhaled deeply. Now he understood—the girls had been bribed to restrain his movements while she deployed poisoned needles.
For just a few dozen dollars, his fighting ability had been severely compromised. This woman was as cunning as she was vicious.
James staggered, dropped his takeout, and fell to his knees in pain.
"What's wrong?" a few girls asked. "Are you sick?"
"Get away from me," James pushed them back. He knew they were being used, but he still didn't want them involved.
"He's probably suffering from heat stroke," the guide said, shooing the girls away. "You go play—I'll help him."
She gracefully approached James, her flag waving in the breeze, her beautiful face radiant in the sunlight. Several passing men were momentarily entranced by her smile.
"Can't move your body?" she asked, seemingly unconcerned about onlookers.
"Who are you?" James coughed. "I don't think I know you. Why are you targeting me?"
"What are you talking about? I don't understand," she replied innocently, supporting his arm. "Let me help you to a shady spot to rest."
She clearly didn't want James to die in public.
"What if I refuse?" James asked, breathing heavily.
"I'll help you to that tent then," she suggested with a gentle smile. "Just don't make a scene. We wouldn't want to frighten those girls."
Without waiting for his response, she guided him toward a distant birch forest where a tent stood isolated from view. James's remaining strength quickly faded as his body moved against his will.
Inside the tent, the guide picked up a leaf, smiling. "The scent of winter is so beautiful."
Her pretty face showed a hint of melancholy, like a poet appreciating nature's subtleties.
"Who are you really?" James asked, each word a struggle.
"Such lovely weather, such a beautiful place—if only we had a poem to complete the perfection." She straightened James's clothes before leaning close to his ear:
"Because I could not stop for Death,
"He kindly stopped for me;
"The carriage held but just ourselves,
"And Immortality."
Her magnetic voice and delicate demeanor carried classical elegance. The Emily Dickinson poem hung in the air between them, filled with deep emotion.
"Did you like it?" she asked softly.
James nodded. "Yes."
Her smile was enchanting. "I'm glad. When we meet in the next life, I'll recite it for you again."
"Such a beautiful woman. Why choose this path?" James gave a bitter smile. "Since I'm about to die, could you at least tell me your name? Let me die knowing that much."
"Of course. You can call me Scarlett Robinson."
With that gentle smile still in place, Scarlett lowered her flag to conceal the knife that appeared in her left hand, thrusting it toward James's heart with casual precision.
Just as the blade was about to pierce his chest, a hand suddenly gripped her wrist.
Scarlett's left hand snapped.
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