Chapter 1589:

The words hit Barry like a cold slap. His fists clenched involuntarily, and his eyes widened in shock. His breath came in quick, shallow bursts, and sweat slicked his palms as panic began to grip him. He hadn’t expected the assassins from North Island to arrive so soon—let alone in a group.

His opponent seemed to be growing more and more impatient, and it was easy to see why. The Golden Summit was only five days long, and two of those precious days had already slipped away. If he were in his opponent’s shoes, he would be equally anxious.

“Your life is in my hands. No one will harm you while I’m here,” Harlee said coolly.

Her goal was to calm Barry’s turbulent emotions, guide him back from the edge, and prevent him from doing something impulsive or losing control.

However, to Barry, her words sounded more like a threat. But given the urgency of the situation, he had no choice but to follow her lead. After all, his life was in her hands.

evening, Barry dragged his tired body back to the hotel. He hadn’t even fully entered before collapsing onto the living room carpet. His body had been wrung dry, the relentless vomiting having drained every ounce of

it a few blocks away from the meeting venue before a group of ominous figures began tailing them. Sensing trouble and unwilling to invite chaos, Harlee had seized the wheel and slammed the accelerator to the floor. Barry barely had

a reckless pilgrimage to the afterlife. The moment he got into the car, a haze had settled over him, his head buzzing like a beehive in chaos. Never again. He

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to the remnants of her

his deep slumber, having

crossed, engrossed in a mobile game. Her face remained expressionless, save for a flicker of amusement

the sight before him. His secretary followed closely, ready to act at a

quiet. Barry now sat on the opposite side of the sofa, tiredly stretching his neck as his secretary served

The tiredness on his face appeared to subside. He looked at Harlee, who was still playing her game, and his slightly furrowed brow

days— my first and likely last. If I’m right, the assassins will see it as

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