Chapter Sixteen
The ward was thick with tension. Catherine’s plea still hung in the air–Adrian, tell us what to do- and every eye fixed on him as if the old man’s fate rested on his next breath.
Adrian broke the silence. His voice was calm, steady, but carried the weight of command.
“Bring me a full set of silver needles.”
The room stirred at once. Catherine’s family blinked in surprise, while the physicians exchanged bewildered looks.
“Silver needles?” one of them echoed. “You mean acupuncture? This is no time for folk remedies!”
Another doctor scoffed, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. “With respect, young man, you’ve accused us of being blind. Yet now you turn to outdated superstition? We’re dealing with a real medical emergency here. Needles won’t save him.”
Adrian’s gaze sharpened, cold enough to silence the protest “If you had a solution, he wouldn’t be lying here dying.” His tone dropped to steel. “You’ve had months to fix this, and you’ve failed. Either prepare what I asked for–or leave the room.”
The challenge rang out like a whip.
Catherine’s father hesitated, torn between the doctors‘ objections and the desperate hope Adrian inspired. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Do it. Bring the needles.”
A servant rushed out at once.
The physicians bristled, offended at being dismissed, but none dared to openly defy the family head. They exchanged low mutters instead, faces red with suppressed anger.
Catherine’s mother turned anxiously to Adrian. “Silver needles… you really believe this can work?”
Adrian met her gaze evenly. “I don’t believe. I know.”
Her breath caught at the certainty in his eyes.
The servant returned quickly, carrying a polished wooden case. When it was opened, rows of gleaming silver needles shone under the ward’s light.
Adrian’s fingers brushed across them once, and something stirred inside him–the knowledge inherited through the ring. Each technique, each method, each meridian flowed through his mind with terrifying clarity. It was as though he had spent decades in study, yet his hands trembled slightly.
This is the first time… he thought. My first time using this inheritance. If I falter-
No. He crushed the doubt at once. His gaze hardened. There was no room for hesitation.
Catherine stepped closer, her eyes locked on him. She had noticed that tiny tremor in his hand, but his expression was so composed, so resolute, that it took her breath away, Who are you really, Adrian Cole? she wondered. How could you possibly know these things?
Adrian rolled up the old man’s sleeve, then pressed three fingers against his wrist. His expression grew grave. “ The poison has settled into his marrow, releasing into his loodstream in cycles. Right now, it’s at a critical stage. If I suppress it with the right needle sequence, we can force it into dormancy.”
One of the doctors muttered from the corner, unable to stay quiet. “Suppress poison with needles? Ridiculous…”
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Adrian didn’t even look at him. His hands moved, swift and precise, as though guided by instinct older than his own life. The first needle pierced the skin at the old man’s forearm, sinking cleanly into a pressure point.
The doctors froze. His movement was flawless.
Another needle followed, then another. His rhythm was steady, unhurried, each placement carrying an elegance born of mastery. Though it was his first attempt, it seemed as if his body remembered every motion.
The air in the ward shifted.
The family members leaned in, eyes wide. Catherine clutched her hands against her chest, unable to look away. Marco, still smarting from his earlier humiliation, found himself staring with awe. He had wanted to see Adrian fail. Instead, he felt a strange, grudging respect blooming inside him.
Within minutes, a lattice of silver needles gleamed across the old man’s arms, legs, and chest. Adrian’s hand hovered over the final needle, his brow furrowed.
“This one,” he murmured, “will decide it.”
He pressed the needle into the center of the old man’s sternum.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the old man’s body convulsed violently. His eyes fluttered open, only halfway, and a guttural sound tore from his throat. His veins darkened, bulging faintly under his skin like blackened rivers.
The family cried out in alarm. Catherine’s mother clutched at her husband’s arm. “He’s–he’s getting worse!”
The doctors surged forward. “Enough! You’ll kill him!”
Adrian raised his voice, cutting through the chaos. “Stay back!”
His tone cracked like thunder, freezing them in place.
He pressed his palm firmly against the old man’s chest, channeling the inner force that surged within him from the ring’s inheritance. A wave of controlled energy pulsed through the man’s body, guided by the silver needles. Slowly–agonizingly slowly–the darkened veins began to fade. The convulsions eased. His breathing, though shallow, steadied.
The family watched, stunned.
Adrian exhaled slowly, sweat beading on his forehead. His voice was quiet, but firm. “The poison is suppressed. He’s out of danger–for now.
Silence blanketed the room, broken only by the steady sound of the old man’s breathing.
The physicians were speechless. Not one dared to speak against what they had just witnessed.
Catherine’s mother pressed a trembling hand to her lips. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “He’s… he’s alive.”
Her father’s voice shook as he looked at Adrian. “You… you truly saved him.”
Marco clenched his fists at his sides, his expression confliced. Humiliation still burned in him, but admiration had taken root. He swallowed hard, stealing a glance at Adrian’s steady profile. Maybe… maybe he can cure me too. Catherine stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper.Adrian… that was… incredible.”
He shook his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on the needles. “It might take some time so we have to wait. The poison already settled into his body more than it should”
“Thanks so much Adrian” Catherine thanks him.
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“Wow! This is awesome, I really can’t believe things like this work” Marco let out his surprise.
“I am wondering, no ordinary person who knows this, then who’s this man?” One of the nurses asked.
“We shouldn’t be quick to judge this, let’s wait and see if Mr Morritis died then he would be in a lot of trouble?” Another one said.
“Can we have a quiet atmosphere and maintain your professionalism?” Adrian turned his head, and asked them. They turned their faces away and kept quiet.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
