Chapter 597
597 Oppression
Wynter raised an eyebrow. “Formations are always the same. Your formation is also like another world
to normal people.”
With that, she mounted her BMW Tomahawk again. “Hold on tight. We’re going in.”
The engine roared. If anyone had been present, they would have seen a black and red motorcycle
disappearing into the villa.
There was no change outside after Wynter broke in.
The black mist was being emitted from only a corner inside the villa. It was as if an invisible door had
opened and closed again.
One had to hold onto something familiar and beloved to the lost soul to find it.
Wynter had noticed that, despite being in a coma, Nixon had been clutching a little yellow duck. It was
one of the yellow duck toys that children would play with when taking a shower in a bathtub.
She put the duck into her pocket without hesitation.
Generally, the more low–key one’s entry into the formation was, the better. After all, the spirits inside
would become more aggressive once the formation master was disturbed.
But who could have imagined that Wynter would enter using a motorcycle?
If Kaspar had seen it, he would have definitely said that it was outrageous!
Wynter had already broken two formations before. The previous formations had either been in hospitals
or hotels, both full of gloom.
However, this formation was different.
When Wynter broke in, the sunlight was just right.
The sudden appearance of her motorcycle startled the people who were selling vegetables on the
street, making them frantically scamper away.
“Hey, why don’t you look where you’re going?” someone said in a very soft Hawford accent.
Wynter raised her eyes and saw steam locomotives and people selling newspapers everywhere.
Students were organizing activities not far away, and there was the Youth Daily, and so on.
A bell rang, and a rickshaw puller passed by her.
This scene resembled the special period of Hawford in movies. The place seemed bustling.
Someone in a black coat got out of the car. Rory Turner eyed a flower seller outside what seemed like
a quiet restaurant.
The flower seller, Isla Olsen, looked only 14 or 15 years old, and Rory didn’t even need to get her
himself,
A man with long braids who was dressed like a landlord pushed Isla in front of Rory. “For you. Look at
how lovely and lively she is.”
“Don’t be rude to the child,” Rory said in a strange accent. “Be a gentleman.”
“Okay! Okay!” The man, Roy Carson, nodded repeatedly.
They completely ignored Isla’s cries and were about to take her back to the manor.
There were many passersby, but none dared to step forward.
Isla was desperate. She held on to the car door, holding tight even when her hands got scraped.
Annoyed by her lack of cooperation, Roy threatened her, saying, “If you don’t go along, your whole
family
will die!”
Isla slowly loosened her grip.
Roy smiled, but before he could finish smiling, he was suddenly kicked. He doubled over in pain and
winced, gritting his teeth. “Who dares to meddle in the Emperor’s matters?”
Wynter glanced down at him.
Roy was startled by her glance. What a beautiful woman! The colonel would definitely like her!
“Traitor?” Wynter suddenly smiled at him.
Roy had yet to react when Wynter kicked him again. “The thing I hate most is a traitor!”
Her kick almost knocked Roy out.
The bodyguards Rory had brought with him wanted to step forward and stop Wynter.
Wynter suddenly spoke in their language. “This is the Frenda Concession, and the Youth Daily is
across
the street. You can continue if you don’t care about international implications.”
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