Grand Assemble Hall
Three says later, the Grand Assembly Hall had never been tis alive. Outside, an endless line of carriages waited their turn, the crests of noble families and medical clans gleaming under the morning sun. Inside, the hall was already roaring with voices–renowned physicians, their disciples, and countless hopefuls, each straining to be seen and remembered.
At the main doors, ushers in crisp uniforms shouted out names. Each arrival was announced like royalty:
“Master Chen of Westbrook!”
“Elder Han of the Eastern Valley School!”
“Dr. Rivera, senior consultant to the governor!”
Every name carried weight, and with each one, the crowd inside stirred. Whispers darted like sparks. Who had come to compete? Who would rise or fall?
Then came the moment that turned heads.
“The Moretti Family!”
The hall seemed to exhale as Catherine entered, her posture elegant, her grandfather walking with measured steps beside her. Behind them trailed Adrian, calm and unreadable, his presence subtle but strangely magnetic.
Murmurs broke out immediately.
“That’s Catherine Moretti…”
“I thought her grandfather was still bedridden.
“He was–but they say he recovered. That man behind them… that’s the one who saved him!”
Eyes narrowed, voices lowered.
“Impossible. He’s barely out of his youth.”
“Some say he used acupuncture. Hah, a child’s game.”
“No, didn’t you hear? The old man was on his deathbed. And yet–look, he’s walking here himself!”
The disbelief clashed with what they saw with their own eyes, and it made the whispers louder.
At the check–in desk, Adrian stepped forward. From his sleeve, he produced the golden VIP pass. The attendant’s eyes widened, then instantly straightened his posture. “Welcome, sir! Right this way.”
The respect in his tone silenced the nearby crowd for a moment.
“A gold pass?”
“Those are reserved for only the highest dignitaries!”
“How did he get one?”
“Clearly the Moretti family is pulling strings.”
“Yes. Without their backing, that boy wouldn’t even get in the door.”
Adrian said nothing, simply pocketed the pass again and followed the usher inside, his expression calm. But the whispers followed him like shadows.
Across the hall, a tall, broad–shouldered man with hawk–like eyes watched the scene. His name alone sent ripples
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through the crowd–Dr. Lander, one of the strongest contenders for the presidency of the Medical Association. He leaned back in his chair, lips curling into a disdainful smirk
“So that’s the boy everyone is fussing over?” he muttered. That’s the so–called savior?”
One of his disciples leaned closer, sneering. “Master, he looks like he should still be in school. Let himn enjoy the spotlight for now. Once you expose him, he’ll be crawling out of here in shame.”
Dr. Lander’s eyes glinted with cold amusement. “Expose him? No. I’ll bury him.
The event officially began. A presiding elder in flowing; robes struck the ceremonial gong, calling for order.
“Today we celebrate not just medicine, but knowledge itsel,” the elder declared. “Let this conference be a place of exchange, where we share wisdom, and push the boundaries of healing.”
The speeches that followed were grand, though Adrian quickly noticed a pattern. One doctor spoke of ” revolutionary treatments” but offered nothing but old theories wrapped in flowery words. Another bragged about a supposed cure for lung ailments, but Adrian could hear the flaws in his logic with a single sentence.
The audience clapped politely after each speech, but the air was thick with hidden rivalry. It wasn’t medicine they were fighting for. It was power, prestige, and recognition.
Catherine leaned toward Adrian, her voice low. “You see it too, don’t you? No one here cares about patients. It’s all about status.”
Adrian’s lips quirked faintly. “Which makes it easier to cuthrough the noise.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the certainty in his tone.
Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for.
“We now present,” the elder’s voice boomed, “the rare medicinal herbs collected for this year’s exhibition!”
Servants carried out ornate chests, each one sealed with protective talismans. When the lids were lifted, the hall erupted in gasps.
Inside lay treasures: snow ginseng over a hundred years old luminous night–blooming orchids, roots that shimmered faintly as if alive with energy. To most present, these were beyond reach, the stuff of legends.
Adrian’s eyes narrowed. Among the glittering array, two herbs stood out immediately. They were exactly the ones he needed for his own path.
But before he could speak, a mocking laugh cut through the chamber.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the miracle healer of the Moretti family.”
The hall fell silent.
Dr. Lander had risen to his feet, his gaze locked on Adrian like a predator sighting prey. His voice carried effortlessly, laced with scorn.
“I’ve heard the stories. That you cured Old Moretti with acupuncture.” He let the word drip with contempt. “A
parlor trick. A street show masquerading as medicine. And there you are, parading around with a gold pass, as though you deserve to stand among us.”
The crowd stirred.
“Acupuncture?”
“Primitive nonsense…”
“Surely the Morettis wouldn’t stake their honor on that?”
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Lander’s lips curled “I say we strip away the rumors and see the truth. Boy–if you really belong here, then prove it. Prove, before this entire hall, that you are not a fraud.”
Marmurs rippled through the crowd. Some leaned forward eagerly, hungry for drama. Others scoffed, already convinced of Adrian’s downfall.
Catherine’s face paled. She grabbed Adrian’s sleeve. “Don’t let him bait you. He’s trying to humiliate you in front of everyone-”
Adrian stood slowly. His calm eyes swept the hall, meeting the sea of doubt, scorn, and curiosity without a flicker of fear.
“Prove myself?” His voice was soft, yet carried clear across the chamber. “To him?”
Gasps broke out. Some laughed nervously. Others muttered in disbelief.
Dr. Lander’s face darkened instantly. “Arrogant boy! Do you think yourself above judgment?”
Adrian’s gare sharpened, his faint smile cutting sharper than any blade. “No. I think your judgment means nothing to me.”
The hall exploded. Voices overlapped–shock, outrage, and delight.
“Did he just-
“He dismissed Lander!”
“This will get bloody…”
Dr. Lander’s disciples surged forward, fury blazing in their eyes. “You dare insult our master?”
“Trash like you has no right to stand here!”
But Adrian didn’t so much as flinch. His presence was steady, calm–yet unyielding, like a mountain that refused
to bow to the storm.
The elder struck the gong again, his voice thundering, “Silence!” But the damage was done. The hall was split- some already condemning Adrian, others burning with curiosity to see what he would do.
Dr. Lander pointed at him, his voice low but venomous. “Very well. Since you refuse to prove yourself, I will make you. I’ll tear off your mask in front of all these people, and show them exactly what you are.”
The crowd held its breath.
The real battle of the conference had just begun.
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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.
