Chapter 4: Ancient Acupuncture Reborn

Words : 2182 Updated : Nov 20th, 2025

"Nurse! How do you people even do your jobs? You just let anyone walk in?!" Attending physician Everett's face had gone slate, his gaze sharp behind his glasses, sweeping over the nurse who had followed in, Belle. Dante turned his head slowly, his gaze calm yet full of pressure. "Don't blame her. I'm the patient's son. I have a right to be here." "Her son?" Everett adjusted his glasses, giving Dante a long, sizing look. A thin, mocking smile tugged at his mouth. "Oh? So you're that so-called devoted son, hooked on gambling, drugs, and women, enjoying for three years while ignoring your own mother?" Dante's eyes narrowed. Gambling, drugs, women, and an ungrateful son? The Swift family was so ruthless. They had taken his inheritance, driven him mad, and now wanted him disgraced forever, never to rise again. A cold, murderous impulse surged through him, but he forced it down. He fixed Everett with a stare that could freeze bone. "Doctor, anyone with sense doesn't buy rumors. I'll save my mother myself. Step aside." "Brat! You're shameless!" For a heartbeat, Everett felt his authority dented by that sudden pressure, then anger flooded back, hot and thick. "Your mother is on her last legs. Her life is flickering out. Even the greatest healers in history couldn't save her. That's science. It's a fact." "On her last legs?" Dante scoffed, contempt clear in his eyes. "And you call yourself a top neurosurgeon, internationally renowned? You can't even sense the faint spark of life she still has. All you do is pass a death sentence. You're not an expert. You're a butcher with a scalpel." "You... you're slandering me!" Everett trembled, finger shaking as he pointed. "My diagnosis is grounded in the most precise instruments and cutting-edge medicine. Your mother won't survive until tonight. That's a foregone conclusion. You don't trust me? Fine, we can wait. But first, get out! Now!" "Quack!" Dante let the word fall like a verdict. The hallway outside was already filling with staff and scattered patients drawn by the shouting. Once they learned what was going on, every look aimed at Dante brimmed with scorn and the anticipation of a spectacle. Hands on her hips, Belle, the nurse snapped, "If you're so amazing, don't treat her here. When something goes wrong, are you planning to drag Dr. Everett and Junbert Hospital down with you?" Dante understood what they feared was liability and the Swift family's wrath. "Fine." His reply landed with absolute certainty. "I'll discharge my mother right now. I'll take full responsibility." "Discharge her now? You're just making trouble!" Belle shot back, refusing to let it go. A young doctor nearby glanced over and cut in. "You want to play the good son? Fine. Sign this waiver. From this moment on, whatever happens to Mrs. Pamela, life or death, is on you. Junbert Hospital, Dr. Everett, and all staff will bear no responsibility. Are you sure about that?" "Why wouldn't I?" Dante didn't even glance at the paper. He snatched the pen and signed his name down, the strokes sharp as blades. "Three years of booze, brothels, and gambling, disappearing. Now that his mother is dying, he shows up to put on a show? What a joke!" Everett folded his arms, derision plain on his face. A hum of voices swelled around them, barbed and jeering. "Did he plan to bring someone back from the dead with needles? Did he think he was a god?" "A young practitioner of traditional medicine? Please. Even scammers would say he's not up to it." "Exactly. Any competent doctor is in his eighties. How old is he, twenty-something?" "Poor Mrs. Pamela. Lived a life of glory, only to be hassled and humiliated at the end by a worthless son." No one believed Dante. Everyone waited for his failure. Dante ignored the noise, every jab falling away. His stare locked on Everett's smug face as if riveted to it. "Dr. Everett, since you're so confident in your scientific verdict, care to make a bet?" "What bet?" Everett held his head high, certain of victory. "If I wake my mother," Dante said, each word ringing clear, "you will kneel in public, apologize to me, and admit you are a quack." "Deal!" Everett didn't hesitate, already savoring the imagined sight of Dante on his knees. "And if you can't save her?" Dante's mouth curved in a cold arc. Three slim silver needles had appeared between his fingers, gleaming. "I'm at your mercy." The words were barely out of his mouth when he moved. His arm became a blur. The three needles leapt as if alive, slicing the air with a faint, fierce hiss, and drove with perfect precision into three key acupoints at the crown of Pamela's head. His fingers fluttered—pinching, lifting, flicking, trembling. The motions flowed, fluid and effortless. They were so fast that humans' eyes struggled to track them, weaving a curtain of quicksilver light. The hospital ward, loud and derisive a heartbeat before, fell utterly silent. Every eye went wide, every mouth went slack. Scorn froze in place, replaced by shock and disbelief. Dante's action was the bearing of an expert with decades of practice. "That... that hand... the arc of those needles..." An old, trembling voice sounded from the back of the crowd, charged with fierce excitement. People shifted aside, making room. An elderly man in a plain jacket, hair and beard white, stared fixedly at Dante's hands, shaking like a leaf. His old eyes were round and blazing, as if witnessing an impossible miracle. "Dr. Hollister? What's wrong?" Someone recognized the old man, Rodrigo Hollister. He was the venerated pillar of Junbert Hospital's traditional medicine department, long retired. Everett's brows drew tight. A ripple of unease rose in him. "Dr. Hollister, you know this... this technique?" Rodrigo didn't even answer. He staggered to the bedside and pointed with a trembling hand at the silver needles quivering in Dante's fingertips, springing as if to a rhythm. His voice was ragged with awe. "Is this the... the Rejuvenation Acupuncture? It's really the technique!" "The Acupuncture Manual and Thousand Acupuncture are just the tip of the iceberg. Just scraps!" "This is the legendary technique, lost for a thousand years." "In my lifetime, to see it with my own eyes... I could die without regret. Without regret!" Rodrigo's hoarse voice struck like a thunderclap, shattering the ward's silence. Minds went blank. Shock rolled through the ward like a tidal wave. The crowd's eyes were fixed on Dante's hands, which seemed to move in accordance with the laws of heaven and earth. Then, the crowd swung as one, incredulous and stunned, to Everett's face. His face was pale. He might lose the bet. Dante was using a technique that could make the unflappable Rodrigo Hollister lose control and revere it as a miracle. Belle's voice rose an octave, carrying the tumult inside everyone's chest. "Dr. Hollister, do you mean he can save Mrs. Pamela?" Rodrigo's tears spilled hot down his wrinkled cheeks. His reply rang through the room, flat and final. "He will! This is a miracle that defies the law!" Everett's face went white as a sheet. His lips trembled. He tried to bluff. "No... Impossible! Even Ancient Acupuncture can't be this fast..." Beep, beep, beep! "Look! The heart monitor!" A voice broke into a sharp cry. Every gaze snapped to the monitor by the bed. The ECG, a near-flat line a moment before, began to lift and fall, firm and rhythmic. Blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and other vitals quickly returned to normal. "My God! She's alive. Her vitals are recovering!" Everett reeled as if lightning had struck him. His vision went black at the edges, his knees buckled, and he stumbled backward, barely held up by those standing near him. He stared, hollowed out, at the dancing lines and climbing numbers. No color remained in his face, only stark terror and the ruin of everything he believed. His lips moved, murmuring, "No... no... This is an illusion. It has to be an illusion..."

Chapter 4: Ancient Acupuncture Reborn

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