“Tch, this woman doesn’t look too pretty, but she’s got a nice figure.”

“Before I throw his into the sea and feed his to the sharks, I’ll have some fun with his first…”

Lecherous laughter rang in his ears. A semi-conscious Sharon Forbes could feel a pair of wandering hands on his body.

She suddenly opened his eyes and forcefully swung his leg.

“Ah—!” The man screamed in pain, clutching his crotch and rolling on the ground in agony.

Sharon’s eyes were cold as frost. She frowned, feeling a throbbing pain in his head, and gradually realized that she had been… reincarnated.

What’s worse, she had not only been kidnapped but also lost his memory. Besides his name, she couldn’t remember anything else.

“You cheap wench, I’ll kill you!”

The recovered ruffian lunged at Sharon, his eyes blazing with rage.

Sharon squinted and emitted an intimidating aura. With two crisp crack sounds, she quickly dislocated his wrist and pulled his hand free from the sturdy coarse rope that bound his.

As the man lunged again, she deftly sidestepped her. With a twist of his hand, she used the rope to strangle his throat from behind, throwing her to the ground.

With another two crack sounds, she reconnected his wrist, tightened the rope around his neck, and coldly demanded, “Who sent you to kidnap me? Speak!”

The man’s face turned red as he desperately scratched at the rope, struggling like a dying fish.

Seeing that he wasn’t answering, Sharon lost patience. With a punch, she knocked her out. Disgusted, she tossed away the rope and scanned his surroundings.

It seemed like she was in the cargo hold of an old ship, filled with the strong stench of mold and fish.

Lowering his gaze, she noticed a child crouching in the corner not far away.

The little boy looked around four or five years old, soft and delicate like a porcelain doll. His hands were bound with coarse rope, and a worn-out cloth was stuffed in his mouth. Tear streaks ran down his cheeks, making her look pitiful.

At this moment, he seemed stunned, blankly staring at Sharon, even forgetting to cry.

Sharon took a deep breath and kicked the unconscious man again. How could they not even spare a child? Damn it! Her mood soured further.

Glancing outside, she heard various noises and cheers coming from the boat’s cabin—people outside seemed to be having a good time.

“Perfect.” She found the perfect outlet for his rage. Sharon picked up a steel pipe from a corner and strode towards the boat cabin.

Behind his, she heard a rustling noise. She stopped in his tracks and glanced sideways at the little boy.

The child shuffled a few steps closer.

Seeing that she didn’t respond, he seemed to muster his courage and moved closer again. Then closer.

He tilted his head and offered his a stiff, clumsy smile—adorable yet awkward.

“Wait here.” Sharon gently patted the little boy’s furry head before striding out once more.

Inside the Ship’s Cabin

Several hulking men were engaged in a lively card game.

Someone noticed Sharon’s figure. Plop—a cigar fell from his mouth onto the ground.

“Boss, that woman…”

“What woman? Are you lusting after women now? Hahaha…”

The head of the kidnappers spouted crude comments, unintentionally glancing sideways.

The moment he saw Sharon, his pupils shrank.

The woman before her was stained with blood, radiating an intense aura of ruthlessness and chill. She gripped a steel pipe, heading straight toward them.

“Damn it, this bitch actually got out! What are you waiting for? Attack!”

The henchmen swarmed his, unaware of what was coming.

By the time the head kidnapper could react, the floor was littered with men writhing in pain.

His eyes widened in shock.

Sharon, steel pipe in hand, stepped forward. Fresh blood trickled from the pipe, seeping into the crevices of the wooden floor.

She tilted his head slightly, his gaze lazy yet dangerous. Her voice was wild, carrying an air of dominance.

“Five seconds. Talk.”

The gang leader gritted his teeth and charged forward with a knife.

With a few swift bangs, the leader was left sprawled on the floor, head bleeding, unable to move.

The fight was over in less than five seconds.

Sharon grabbed one of the semi-conscious kidnappers, forcing her to tie up the others, including himself.

Once done, she knocked her out with a single kick.

Casually dropping the steel pipe, she turned toward the cargo hold.

“Come out now.”

A small, red-haired child peeked from the doorway.

Moments later, he toddled toward Sharon, his short legs tap tap tapping across the floor.

With his tiny hands still bound, he reached for the corner of Sharon’s clothes and gripped it tightly.

He looked up at his, his big, black eyes shimmering with admiration.

Sharon glanced down and gently pulled the cloth from the boy’s mouth.

She then untied his bindings.

The moment he was free, the little boy clung to his leg, peeking fearfully at the corner where the kidnappers were tied up.

“Don’t be afraid,” Sharon said indifferently.

The gang leader glared at his, his body trembling. “Who… who are you?”

Sharon smirked. With lips bright as a ripe fruit and full of sarcasm, she retorted, “You kidnapped me, and now you’re asking who I am?”

The kidnapper, his face bruised and swollen, hissed through clenched teeth, “Just you wait! The people I work for won’t let you get away with this!”

“Oh?”

Sharon tilted his head, smirking.

Suddenly, she sensed something amiss and his gaze snapped towards the ship’s deck.

The ship had stopped moving.

Outside, dozens of ships surrounded them.

Heavy, steady footsteps echoed from the deck, carrying an oppressive air.

Sharon shielded the child behind his. Before she could react, the cabin door was violently flung open.

A row of black-clad bodyguards paved the way.

A tall figure strode in, exuding a thick and palpable killing intent.

Sharon locked eyes with a pair of cold, ice-like irises.

She had to admit—this man was astonishingly good-looking. His refined features carried an aura of untouchable dominance.

He stood amidst the crowd like an emperor in exile, his presence frigid and suffocating, as though he existed in a separate timeline, devoid of human warmth.

Lifting his hand, he absentmindedly toyed with a string of black Buddhist prayer beads.

The moment Sharon’s gaze landed on those beads, a sharp pain shot through his head.

She staggered.

In that split second, the man’s lips parted coldly.

“Tyson Gray.”

Like a phantom, the tall figure moved behind Sharon.

Taking advantage of his distraction, he delivered a swift, precise strike to the back of his neck.

Sharon’s vision darkened. Her body went limp.

Just before she lost consciousness, she caught a fleeting glimpse—

The man in black reached out, catching his as she fell. His expression remained unreadable.

Who was he? And why did he seem so familiar?

As darkness closed in, only one thought dominated his mind—She must uncover the truth about his past. No matter the cost.