CHAPTER 46
She paused, letting that number sink in.
“Advancing mental power isn’t like improving medical skills. It requires insane natural talent and resources so rare they’re practically myths.” She wet her lips nervously and glanced up at him. “Do you… have mental power too?”
“Maybe,” Adrian replied simply.
That one word made her heart skip.
His calmness. His composure.
It didn’t feel like someone whose mental power was weak or nonexistent.
She’d seen him perform impossible acupuncture in the Medical Association. She’d seen him cure conditions that dozens of experts had declared hopeless.
If he did have mental power…
Could he really be… higher than Level 2?
Her grandfather once mentioned meeting a mysterious expert decades ago–the only Level 3 user he’d ever encountered. A terrifying figure whose presence alone felt overwhelming, whose energy control was beyond comprehension. With just a few pointers, her grandfather had barely managed to awaken Level 1 mental power, and that small step had allowed him to become a senior elder.
Level 3 users were the stuff of legends. Stories. Myths.
And anything beyond Level 3…
Catherine didn’t even dare to imagine.
Before she could ask anything more, Dr. Aldric Arvan lifted his hand, signaling for silence.
The entire hall obeyed.
He stepped forward, radiating a quiet, forceful confidence.
“To ensure fairness,” Arvan announced, “I will publicly compete with anyone using mental power.”
The crowd erupted.
Even the visiting presidents stiffened.
Mental power battles were sacred. Rare. Dangerous.
They weren’t something one casually proposed in a public hall.
“If any of you refuse to accept my claim as Grand President, Arvan continued, “step forward and compete.”
President Renford’s eyes narrowed.
Arvan’s arrogance didn’t end there.
“However…” Arvan’s gaze sharpened, “if you challenge me and lose, you will hand over one of your signature techniques.”
Gasps filled the room.
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Catherine felt her blood run cold.
Signature techniques weren’t simply valuable.
They were life foundations.
Many renowned doctors possessed a unique treasure: a rare artifact, a secret prescription, an exclusive formula passed down through generations. Losing something like that would cripple their status permanently. Some would never recover.
“Is he insane?”
“He wants to strip us of our secrets?”
“How dare he-!”
The fury in the room was palpable.
But Arvan stood without blinking, absorbing the outrage like a man convinced he was untouchable.
A few younger doctors looked hesitant, even fearful.
Not because they agreed with him-
but because his confidence was terrifying.
The presidents exchanged tense glances.
None moved.
None spoke.
They were all Level 2.
And Arvan…
was acting like he had surpassed them.
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Catherine whispered, “Why is he so certain? Mental power breakthroughs are incredibly rare. Even if he had resources, it shouldn’t be possible-”
Adrian’s lips curved slightly.
“He’s relying on something borrowed,” he murmured.
She blinked. “Borrowed?”
Adrian didn’t explain.
But the certainty in his voice sent a strange shiver through her.
Above them, the chandelier lights flickered subtly. The air felt heavier–almost compressed–as if an invisible pressure had seeped into the room.
Arvan smiled slowly.
“Since none of you are willing to step forward yet,” he said “perhaps I should demonstrate first.”
But before he could raise a hand, a faint scoff cut through the hall.
Sharp. Unhurried.
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Almost bored.
The crowd stiffened.
Heads turned.
It came from Adrian.
Arvan’s eyes narrowed instantly.
He recognized the sound.
A challenge hidden within a laugh.
“Is something amusing?” Arvan asked, voice edged with displeasure.
Adrian didn’t bother to stand.
He simply met Arvan’s gaze with calm, steady eyes.
Unimpressed.
That alone infuriated dozens of medical elites–because arrogance from a nobody was rare. But arrogance from someone breaking no sweat? That was unsettling.
Adrian finally spoke.
“I just find it funny.”
Arvan’s expression darkened. “Funny?”
“Yes,” Adrian said. “Your confidence. Your theatrics. Your belief that no one here can surpass you.”
The hall broke into frantic whispers.
“Does he know who he’s provoking?”
“He doesn’t have mental power–does he?”
Catherine clenched her fists beneath the table.
Arvan stepped closer, eyes glinting with hostility.
“You seem quite certain for someone with no reputation,” he said coldly. “Are you implying you have the qualifications to challenge me?”
Adrian raised a brow.
“I’m implying you’re making too much noise for someone standing on shaky ground.”
A ripple ran across the hall.
Arvan’s aura flared–subtle but dangerous.
Several elders stepped back instinctively.
“If I am shaky,” Arvan said softly, “then what are you?”
Adrian didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even blink.
“Someone who doesn’t need to shout to prove strength,”
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A murmur of shock spread.
Arvan’s jaw tightened.
For a moment, the hall felt ready to explode.
President Renford stepped forward immediately, trying to regain control. “Vice President Arvan, this is a formal gathering. You cannot involve civilians-”
Arvan cut him off.
“He’s not a civilian,” he said sharply. “He mocked my breakthrough. He will either explain himself or shut his mouth.”
Everyone stared at Adrian.
Catherine’s heart hammered.
She wanted to grab his sleeve, pull him back, anything—
but Adrian remained perfectly still.
And calm.
Arvan’s voice dropped. “Well? What level do you think you stand at?”
Adrian leaned back in his chair, gaze steady.
“You’re asking the wrong question,” he said. “The question is–what level do you think you stand at?”
The hall erupted again.
Arvan’s fury finally surfaced.
He stepped forward, spiritual pressure swirling around him like a dark wave. Several glasses on nearby tables cracked.
Catherine gasped softly. But before fear could take hold-
Adrian lifted a fingertip.
Just a small movement.
Almost casual.
And in that instant-
The pressure vanished.
Cut cleanly.
Like a candle extinguished by a silent wind.
Arvan froze.
So did everyone else.
Catherine stared at Adrian, unable to breathe.
What level… is he?
Arvan’s eyes widened, confusion mixing with disbelief.
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He had unleashed more spiritual force than a Level 2 could handle–something only someone on t could push back against.
But Adrian brushed it aside like dust.
Arvan’s voice trembled despite his attempt to mask it.
“You… what did you-?”
Adrian’s gaze sharpened, and his tone carried a confidence that sent chills through the room.
“You think mental power begins and ends with your little breakthrough?” he said. “If you want to challenge the entire hall, go ahead.”
He stood slowly. “But don’t pretend you’re qualified to challenge me.”
The room fell absolutely silent.
Every president, elder, disciple-
every single person present-
stared at Adrian as if seeing him for the first time.
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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.
