Chapter 11: Claw Machine

Shane Yale took his mom and second aunt back to Villa No.1. On the way, he tried calling his father, Prince Yale, several times but couldn't get through. He didn't think much of it. When his dad was out doing odd jobs, he often left his phone behind, and sometimes there was no signal at all. Not being able to reach him was normal. He simply sent a text saying they'd moved. Back home, the three shared a warm dinner. After seeing Rhea Looske off, he checked Cassandra Yale again. Her recovery was excellent-she even looked healthier than before she got sick. After that, he used Threefold Vital Essence to adjust his mother's body. Mia Looske had been a beauty, but years of hardship had worn her down. Under the nourishment of the Threefold Vital Essence, her vitality returned fast. She looked much younger than before. Once he finished, Shane went back to his room to sort his thoughts. It hadn't been long, but too much had happened-he had gone from an ordinary college kid to the heir of the Ancient Medical Sect. He took out the Demon Refining Bottle and set it in his palm to study. According to the legacy records, it was a treasure: it could draw in all sinister filth and miasma and eventually condense it into elixirs. The only issue was how impractical it was to carry around. He couldn't just walk around with a bottle in his hand. No sooner had the thought formed than the bottle vanished from his palm. A jug-shaped mark appeared on his chest, as clear as inked lines, more precise than a tattoo. "Huh…" Shane glanced down and almost laughed. Guys who ran with gangs inked dragons and phoenixes; he had a wine jug. People would think he was a drunk. With a thought, the Demon Refining Bottle reappeared in his palm. It had to be the handiwork of that father he had never met, binding the treasure to his bloodline. Who are my real parents? Why did they abandon me? If they arranged for the legacy to be delivered, they must care about me, right? His adoptive parents had treated him like their own, but he still carried an obsession: he wanted to meet his birth parents. A thousand thoughts tangled in his head. He imagined all kinds of scenarios and decided his parents must have been forced by circumstances. He didn't know who that old man was, but the message had been clear: only by becoming stronger could he meet his birth parents. They had to be in danger. No-he had to train, had to get stronger fast, and then go save them! He suddenly thought of the legend of Chen Xiang splitting a mountain to rescue his mother. He sat cross-legged on the bed and began cultivating the Three-Life Mantra. In an upscale theater somewhere, a man and a woman had booked the whole room. On the screen, The Hit Movie "Claw Machine" was playing. The man held popcorn in one hand and a cola in the other, swaying as he criticized, "Too small. The scope is tiny-can't compare to me! For our son, I spent three years combing through a hundred thousand pocket worlds to locate a parallel world that mirrors Earth. I even rewrote its timeline, tailored just to raise him. Creating a world just to raise a child-that's real vision, that's a grand gesture!" The woman sighed. "My poor boy. He'd barely turned one when we sent him away. I don't even know if it was the right thing." "Of course it was. For a man to achieve great things, he must first harden his will. Look at his brothers and sisters-their cushy upbringing ruined them. None of them amounted to much. Now that Shane has a different environment, plus our help in secret, he'll surpass me someday and bring glory to the Ancient Medical Sect!" Shane cultivated the whole night. When he opened his eyes the next morning, he felt bright and energized. But that was it. His cultivation barely moved. The ambient spiritual energy was pitiful; it seemed he would need another route to grow quickly. After breakfast, Mia Looske went out to look for a job. She had scraped by on odd jobs before, and after spending so long at the hospital caring for Cassandra Yale, her work was long gone. She always said, "A fortune at home means nothing if you bring in nothing each day," and she wasn't anywhere near retirement. Shane tried to stop her and couldn't, so he let it go. As long as his mom was happy. He pulled out his phone and paid off all the online loans and the money he'd borrowed from relatives and friends in one go. He was just thinking of taking Cassandra out to buy new clothes when a knock sounded at the door. Shane opened the door. Simon Scurr stood on the threshold, a far cry from his bedraggled state yesterday-bright-eyed, carrying a large fruit basket. "Mr. Yale, is the house to your liking? If you need anything, just say the word. I'll have people take care of it right away." After everything yesterday, Simon couldn't have been more deferential. Even his gaze held reverence and awe. "It's great." Shane knew he hadn't come just to make small talk. "Mr. Scurr, what brings you?" "There's someone I hope you'll treat." Simon pulled out a checkbook, wrote one out, and offered it with both hands. "I want to ask your help treating a patient. This is a $1,000,000 advance. Whatever the outcome, this money is your fee!" Shane blinked. That kind of money was a sky-high fee, and it piqued his curiosity. Who could make this real estate tycoon treat it so seriously? "Mr. Scurr, who is the patient?" Simon Scurr said, "The Casson family's eldest young lady-Amber Casson."