“I came with President Grant. Before the accident, he told me to stay at the foot of the mountain and wait for the data while he went to the survey point himself,” Reina Carson explained quickly, clarifying why she was there.

“When the signal was lost, I contacted the rescue team. Chairman Grant also called. President Whitman, the mountain roads are treacherous. The rescue team has already gone into the mountains. Why don’t you wait at the base camp first…”

“If I came all this way just to wait for someone, then there’s no difference between waiting here and waiting in Kingsport,” Caroline Whitman cut her off.

Her meaning was perfectly clear.

Reina Carson naturally understood, but before her arrival, Jonathan Grant had called and told her to prevent Caroline Whitman from entering the mountains if at all possible.

“Find me a local who knows the paths. You stay at the camp and continue coordinating,” Caroline Whitman said.

Hearing this, Reina Carson had no choice but to run into a tent. A few moments later, a tan, middle-aged man came up to them.

“Hello, President Whitman. My surname is Marshall. I’m this mission’s rescue captain. The corporation told me to meet you here.”

Marshall subconsciously sized up the delicate city dweller before him.

He sighed inwardly. ‘Another family member here to cause trouble.’

Last time, the wife of a project vice president had shown up, cried, and demanded to go back after walking less than two hundred meters. In the end, he’d had to arrange for someone to carry her down the mountain.

“President Whitman, the mountain path is treacherous. Why don’t you wait at the camp? The moment we have news, I’ll…”

“Let’s go, Captain Marshall,” Caroline Whitman interrupted him. “I won’t slow you down. Right now, time is life.”

Hearing this, Marshall said no more. He signaled for three team members to go with them.

Caroline Whitman followed the rescue team along the mountain path for about half an hour.

The rain had let up a little, but the path was pitted and uneven from the mudslide. With every step, they had to carefully tread on loose rocks and tree roots.

Marshall led the way, glancing back occasionally. He noticed that President Whitman was keeping a steady pace in the middle of the group. Her steps weren’t fast, but her rhythm was constant, and she never once asked for a break.

The rescue team circled through the mountains for nearly another ten-plus minutes before finally stopping near a tributary that had been rerouted by a flash flood.

Marshall crouched by the bank and looked down, his expression grim. “The current is too strong. The original path is flooded. Going around will add another two kilometers.”

Caroline Whitman stood beside him, glanced downstream, and said without hesitation, “We’ll go around.”

After another twenty minutes of walking, the faint sound of water could be heard ahead.

They rounded a bend, and the old mining site came into view.

A few dilapidated sheds stood crookedly in the rain. Behind them was the mountainside that had been hit by the mudslide. Rubble and fallen trees covered half the slope, as if a giant beast had clawed a gash out of the mountain.

“The survey point is just ahead.” Marshall pointed to the top of the slope. “We had almost finished searching this area, but a section of the path ahead was washed out. At that point, it was getting dark and the downpour was too heavy. The risks of a night search were too great, so we had to turn back.”

“We were planning to set out again at dawn, but then you arrived. Thankfully, the rain is much lighter today.”

Before he could finish, Caroline Whitman was already running over.

Her eyes swept across the ruins, then stopped on a specific spot.

Below the rock face was a protruding stone ledge. Under the ledge was a shallow, concave hollow. The entrance to the hollow was piled with broken branches caked in mud, which looked like they had been deliberately pulled there.

She rushed over and tore away the branches.

Adrian Grant was sitting slumped against the rock wall. His right leg was stretched out at an unnatural angle, and a dried streak of blood was on his temple. One of his shirt sleeves was half torn off, revealing an arm covered in mud and scratches.

His eyes were closed, his face completely drained of color.

His glasses were nowhere to be found.

“Adrian Grant!” The heart that had been tight in Caroline Whitman’s chest all day finally settled.

She knelt, pressing her fingers to the side of his neck. There was still a pulse, but his breathing was faint.

“Adrian Grant, Adrian Grant! Don’t you die! You can’t die!”

She wiped away her tears, quickly took off her own raincoat, and wrapped it around him. She draped his arm over her shoulder, wrapped her other arm around his waist, and with a powerful heave, steadily lifted him into her arms.

“You found him?”

Marshall hurried over. He saw Caroline Whitman holding the man and, after a moment of surprise, rushed forward to check on him.

“Good, no broken bones. He’s just unconscious. There’s a head wound, but the main thing now is to keep him warm.”

Marshall took out a rescue pack. “We need to get his body temperature up now to prevent hypothermia.”

The medic who came with them applied a simple dressing.

Caroline Whitman wasn’t idle, either. She contacted Reina Carson, telling her to get ready and have a medical helicopter come directly to their location.

Going down the mountain directly was impossible. The descent would take an hour, the terrain was unstable, and carrying him down could easily lead to another accident.

Before long, the sound of voices came from the bottom of the slope.

A team in matching rescue uniforms was approaching from a side path. The leader was a tall woman with her hair in a ponytail. Rainwater streamed down from her hood, revealing a face with sharp, defined features.

Her gaze immediately fell on the person held in Caroline Whitman’s arms.

“Adrian Grant?” She strode forward, her brow furrowed. “I’m Captain Stone of the rescue team. I was dispatched by the emergency response office to provide support. What’s his condition?”

Marshall recited Adrian Grant’s vital signs.

Sherry Stone quickly checked Adrian Grant’s pupils and pulse. After confirming he was not in life-threatening danger, her expression relaxed slightly.

She paused, then looked at the man being held in Caroline Whitman’s arms, her brow creasing slightly.

“He has some external head trauma and could very well have fractures. Holding him like that will only put the patient in greater danger. He’s also suffering from hypothermia. Put him down. I have a team doctor with me.”

Caroline Whitman waited for her to finish the check before speaking. “Thank you, and thank you to your team for making the trip.”

“Our medic has already checked him. There are no signs of any fractures, and we’ve already taken steps to treat the hypothermia.”

“Perfect, then,” Sherry Stone said, standing up. “I have professional personnel with me. Hand him over. I’ll take him back to the rescue camp. His condition is not to be taken lightly, and he needs immediate medical attention. I know a safe, fast route down the mountain.”

…

Caroline Whitman was in no mood for games. She just wanted to get Adrian Grant back as quickly as possible.

She didn’t speak, just turned to look at Marshall. Her meaning was clear.

‘This person is questioning your team’s professionalism.’

Marshall immediately understood what Caroline Whitman meant.

He stepped forward. “Captain Stone, we are the professional rescue team sent by Chairman Grant. We appreciate your team’s good intentions, but we can handle President Grant’s situation.”

To put it bluntly, even if she was a professional, they weren’t about to hand their boss over to a strange team.

Who would take responsibility if something went wrong?

Sherry Stone caught his underlying meaning and gave a faint smile. “Perhaps you’ve misunderstood me. I know President Grant. I led the team for his last inspection tour in the Southwest.”

“Besides, we were also commissioned to find President Grant on this mission.”

“Since you’re also here to rescue President Grant, I’d say finding him is a happy outcome for everyone.”

“The path down the mountain is quite dangerous right now. It would be safer if our teams worked together to get him down.”

Marshall had nothing to say to that, so he turned to Caroline Whitman for her decision.

Caroline Whitman adjusted her hold on him. “Thank you for the kind offer, but we’ve already arranged for pickup. You yourself said that we can’t afford any more delays.”

But Sherry Stone continued to block their way. “I’m sorry, but I can’t entrust President Grant to a stranger. You’re not a professional rescue worker, are you? I have a duty to see this rescue through. Otherwise, I won’t be able to answer to my superiors.”

This “unprofessional,” of course, was directed at Caroline Whitman.

Caroline Whitman stood up straighter. “I am his wife. Not a stranger.”

“As for being a professional…”

Just then, the medical helicopter arrived.

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