Arrogant
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Chapter Twenty–Five
The hall had not yet settled after the shocking duel. Murmurs still filled the air, some praising Adrian, others questioning if what they saw was even possible. But before order could be restored, another voice rose.
“Sir, please… please help me!”
Heads turned. One of the patients who had been brought for demonstration earlier, a thin elderly man, struggled forward. His breathing was ragged, his face pale with desperation. He knelt directly before Adrian, ignoring the disapproving gasps from the crowd.
“I heard what you did just now,” the man pleaded. “I don’t trust anyone else. Please, I beg you treat me!”
The request struck the room like lightning. To bypass the conference physicians and directly beg the unknown youth? It was unthinkable.
Dr. Lander’s face turned crimson. “Ridiculous!” he thundered. “This patient is already under my care. My method is prepared, tested, and absolute. He will be treated by me.‘
But the old man shook his head frantically. “No! His method will ruin me—I’ve seen it before. Please… let him treat me instead.” He pointed at Adrian with trembling hands.
The presiding elder frowned, caught between tradition and the raw plea of a patient. “Young man… will you respond?”
Adrian stepped forward slowly. His calm voice carried across the silence. “Dr. Lander is not wrong in his diagnosis. This man’s heart is weakened. His blood circulation is poor. But the treatment prescribed…” He glanced at the scroll Dr. Lander had written earlier. “…relies on over–stimulation. It forces the body to respond violently. If his constitution cannot endure, the results will be fifty–fifty at best. Success or death.”
The crowd stirred uneasily. Half of them looked toward Dr. Lander, waiting for him to lash back.
Lander sneered. “And what would you suggest, boy? A miracle again?”
Adrian ignored the insult. His gaze returned to the old man. “There is a simpler way. One that does not gamble with your life. It won’t take hours, or even thirty minutes. Less than ten, and you will feel relief.”
Gasps.
“Arrogance.”
“Impossible.”
“Is he mocking all of medicine?”
The presiding elder raised his hand. “Very well. To end this dispute, both methods shall be attempted. If the patient consents.”
“I consent!” the old man cried immediately. “Let him try. Please–let him try!”
Two sets of preparations began. Dr. Lander’s disciples bustled about, grinding herbs and boiling them into a thick, pungent decoction. At the same time, Adrian requested nothing more than warm water, fine ginger slices, and a few silver needles.
The contrast was stark.
“Ginger? That’s it?”
“Is he treating a child’s cold?”
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“This is madness.”
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When all was ready, Dr. Lander stepped forward first. His patient obediently drank the dark, bitter concoction. At first, nothing happened. Then suddenly–he began coughing violently, his chest heaving, face turning red.
The hall erupted in alarm.
“He’s choking!”
“Something’s wrong-”
Dr. Lander barked orders, forcing his disciples to steady the man, but the violent spasms refused to calm.
Adrian’s voice cut through the noise, low but firm. “Enough. You’re pushing his body beyond its limit. Any more and his heart will fail.”
Lander spun on him, fury blazing. “Silence!”
But the elder intervened sharply. “Step back, Dr. Lander. Let the other attempt proceed.”
All eyes shifted to Adrian.
He guided the old man gently, easing him onto a chair. His movements were neither hurried nor hesitant- measured, steady, like water flowing in a stream. He pressed a ginger slice to the man’s lips, letting him chew slowly, then placed three silver needles with precision across the chest and wrist.
Within moments, the man’s breathing eased. The violent coughing stilled. His face, once flushed and strained, slowly regained color.
The hall held its breath as, after only a few minutes, the patient let out a long, relieved sigh. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked up at Adrian with tears in his eyes. “The pain… it’s gone. I can breathe again.”
The hall erupted in disbelief.
“Ten minutes…”
“He stabilized him in less than ten minutes!”
“And with nothing but ginger and needles-”
Dr. Lander’s face drained of color, then twisted with rage. His method had not only failed, but it had placed the man in danger. And before all witnesses, Adrian had corrected him with a gentler, safer treatment.
The presiding elder stood, his voice ringing with finality. “The result is undeniable. Adrian Cole’s method not only succeeded but did so with clarity and safety. This hall has witnessed it. The duel is decided.”
The crowd exploded in cheers, shock, and endless murmurs. Some looked at Adrian with awe, others with envy, but no one dared call him a fraud now.
Adrian retrieved his needles calmly, offering the old man a reassuring smile. His words, soft yet firm, echoed through the silence that followed:
“Medicine should be about saving the one who suffers. If a method brings relief swiftly and safely, then that is the path worth walking.”
Dr. Lander could not speak. His humiliation was complete.
And Adrian, standing tall before the assembly, had become the center of every gaze.
A
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.
