Emily Carter was feeling kinda bummed.

She was living her best life in the mountain village, but her grandma just had to insist she head back to the city to reconnect with family. Just thinking about that house she hadn't stepped into in nearly eighteen years made her feel off.

But hey, Grandma had a plan—told her to aim for a small goal first: make a hundred million, and she'd be allowed to come back and stay with her again.

A hundred million... how much was that, exactly?

Having grown up deep in the hills where money rarely exchanged hands, Emily didn’t really get the whole concept of cash. But Grandma called it a “small” goal, so it couldn’t be that hard to earn… right?

"Meow—"

Her cat, MoBao, had been happily trotting ahead when it suddenly spun around, sprinting toward her in a panic. That cry didn’t sound normal.

MoBao was her huge black cat.

"What’s wrong, MoBao?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Meow!" Another sharp yowl.

She frowned. "Quick, show me."

The duo dashed down the mountain path. Then Emily spotted him—a man lying in the grass.

First reaction? Whoa, he was ridiculously good-looking.

But…

He was curled up tightly, clutching his chest with both hands, body visibly shaking. Sweat dotted his forehead like he was in serious pain.

Emily quickly knelt beside him, concern written all over her face. "Hey, are you okay?"

The man suddenly opened his tightly shut eyes—

"Meow!"

MoBao took one glance and freaked out, fur puffing up instantly. It darted back several meters before stopping and crouching low, clearly scared stiff.

The guy's eyes were freaky—blood-red veins overtook the whites, leaving only cold, dark pupils. Like a predator gone wild at midnight.

Creepy as hell.

Plus with how ghostly pale he was—white skin against those red eyes—he almost looked like something out of a horror story.

Emily didn’t flinch though. She’d grown up in the mountains and had seen her fair share of dead bodies. Her nerves? Solid.

Seeing how sick he looked, she leaned in closer, trying to figure out what was wrong.

She didn’t expect him to suddenly shove her away with a gasp of effort and squeeze out a word like it physically hurt to say:

"Leave."

Emily blinked. "Hey, relax. I’m just trying to help here."

Clutching his chest, the guy shot her a death glare and spat out each word like ice:

"Don’t. Touch. Me."

His voice was cold—like frostbite straight to the eardrum.

She instantly frowned. Like, excuse you? As if she wanted to touch him that badly.If Grandma hadn’t said saving a life was more meaningful than building a seven-story pagoda and told her never to ignore someone in need, she would’ve walked away ages ago!

Just because the guy had a good-looking face didn’t mean he was some dreamboat she’d swoon over. Nope, not interested. She was helping purely to earn some good karma for Grandma so she could live a long, healthy life.

With a stiff face, she warned, "If you don’t wanna die, stop squirming and let me do my thing, alright?"

She reached out to check his pulse, but to her surprise, even in that miserable state, the man still had enough strength to fight her off. She couldn’t even get a proper look at him, let alone feel his pulse!

Traditional medicine needed observation, listening, asking, and touching. Now she couldn’t even get a decent ‘look’ — how was she supposed to help like this?

Annoyed, Emily Carter didn’t bother saying another word. She picked up a rock by her foot and bonked him on the forehead, knocking him out cold.

"Meow~" came a soft cry from MoBao. It padded over cautiously, tail low and steps light.

Emily knew what it was trying to say and replied, "Yeah, Grandma said not to hit people randomly, but come on, I had no choice. The guy wasn’t cooperating at all."

As she spoke, she'd already grabbed his wrist and started checking his pulse. One second... two... three… and her expression turned grim.

"Meow?" MoBao blinked its blue eyes, watching her with curiosity.

Emily’s face went serious. "His breath is too weak, he's on the brink."

She didn’t hesitate. Without another word, she bit her finger and forced open his mouth.

"Meow! Meow! Meow!"

MoBao backed up fast, fur all puffed up, clearly more freaked out than when it first saw the guy’s red eyes.

Emily frowned and said, "I know it’s kinda drastic, but he’s dying. And anyway, he’s passed out, won’t remember us later. Don’t worry."

A few seconds later, she pulled her finger out, wrapped it up quickly with a torn strip of cloth, then checked the man’s pulse again. Once she was sure he was stabilizing, she let out a breath and said with relief,

"Alright, he’s safe now. He’ll wake up in a bit. Let’s dip."

"Meow~"

The big black cat answered happily, trotting along beside her as she turned to leave.

Moments after Emily walked off, a man and woman sneaked onto the mountain path.

The woman was young, maybe in her early twenties. She looked great and dressed even bolder—pale skin, slender figure, rocking a deep V-neck top and teeny black shorts. Her long legs and slim waist were on full display, and the heels she wore were at least ten centimeters high.

The man next to her was in his forties, on the shorter side, thinning hair, and a huge belly—your textbook sleazy uncle type.

Their secretive behavior made it obvious—they weren’t here for a nice hike.