– The Quiet Healer’s Startling Proof
The hushed silence that fell over the hospital corridor was deafening. I could practically hear the gears turning in everyone’s heads as they processed what they were witnessing: Roman Volkov, the feared power of Havenwood City, was showing me respect.
Tyson Berg’s face had turned an interesting shade of gray. His enforcers suddenly found the floor tiles absolutely fascinating. Dr. Desmond Davenport looked like he might faint.
“Mr. Knight,” Roman repeated, “what seems to be the problem here?”
I gestured toward the peasant woman clutching her feverish child. “This woman’s son needs urgent medical attention, but certain people seem to believe jade pendants and gold chains are more important than a dying child.”
Roman’s expression hardened. He turned to his men. “Handle them.”
With silent efficiency, Roman’s men surrounded Tyson and his enforcers. No words were exchanged–none were needed. The message was crystal clear. Within moments, Tyson and his crew were being escorted outside, their protests dying in their throats under Roman’s men’s steely gazes.
Dr. Davenport’s assistant tugged at his sleeve. “Doctor,” she whispered urgently, “do you know who that is? That’s Liam Knight!”
The color continued draining from Davenport’s face. “The one who cuted the Soul Nourishment Pill?”
Their hushed exchange wasn’t quiet enough. I heard every word, and so did many others in the crowded hallway. Murmurs rippled through the waiting patients.
“The Soul Nourishment Pill?”
“The miracle medicine?”
“That’s him?”
Before the situation could escalate further, a distinguished older man hurried down the corridor, his white coat flapping. The hospital dean, Dr. Cobbett, had arrived.
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“What is happening here?” he demanded, eyes widening as he took in Roman Volkov’s presence and the disrupted waiting area.
Dr. Davenport seized the opportunity. “Dean Cobbett! This man has assaulted me and disrupted the entire consultation schedule! I demand he be removed immediately!”
Dr. Cobbett looked between us, clearly recognizing the precariousness of the situation. “Mr. Volkov, I-”
“I’m not the one you need to worry about, Roman cut in, nodding toward me. “Mr. Knight has some concerns about your hospital’s practices.”
The dean’s attention shifted to me, recognition dawning in his eyes. “Mr. Knight… I’ve heard of your pharmaceutical achievements. What seems to be the issue?”
Before I could answer, Dr. Davenport interjected, his voice rising. “This is
preposterous! I don’t care who he is! Either he leaves, or I cancel all my consultations today!”
The dean paled. “Desmond, please-”
“No!” Davenport’s face was flush with anger now. “I am the Medicine God of Havenwood! I will not be insulted by some upstart pill–maker!”
I couldn’t help but smile at his outburst. “If the distinguished doctor wishes to leave, I’d be happy to provide consultations in his place. Free of charge.”
A collective gasp went through the waiting room. Davenport’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
“You? Provide consultations?” He gave a theatrical laugh. “Creating pills in a lab is one thing, but clinical diagnosis? Don’t make me laugh!”
“I can assure you,” I replied calmly, “I’m fully capable.”
Dr. Cobbett looked caught between hope and skepticism. “Mr. Knight, while your pharmaceutical work is remarkable, diagnosis requires years of clinical experience-”
“Test me,” I suggested simply
The crowd had grown completely silent, watching the drama unfold. Dr. Davenport sneered. “Yes, let’s see this miracle worker in action! Pick any patient here!”
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I turned away from him, scanning the waiting area until my eyes fell on the peasant woman and her feverish child. She clutched the little girl tighter, uncertainty in her eyes. I approached slowly, kneeling to meet her at eye level.
“May I?” I asked gently, gesturing toward her daughter.
She hesitated, looking from me to Dr. Davenport and back again.
“Please,” I said softly. “I promise I can help her.”
Something in my voice must have reassured her, because she nodded cautiously and loosened her grip on her child.
The little girl was burning up. Her skin was flushed, her breathing labored. Even
without touching her, feel the heat radiating from her small body.
I
“How long has she been like this?” I asked.
“Three days,” the mother whispered. “She gets worse by the hour.”
Dr. Davenport stood behind me, arms crossed. “Well?” he challenged. “What’s your diagnosis, ‘doctor“?”
I ignored him, focusing entirely on the child. I placed my hand gently on her forehead, closing my eyes.
Using my spiritual energy, I could sense the infection raging through her small body. The meridians carrying life energy were inflamed and blocked, particularly around her lungs. No wonder conventional medicine was struggling–this was a complex case that would normally require a combination of antibiotics and careful energy manipulation. For me, however, it was simple.
I channeled my energy carefully, directing it into the child’s body. I could feel the heat of the infection fighting against me, but my spiritual energy was far stronger. Slowly but surely, I cleared the blockages, strengthening her weakened immune system and eliminating the infection at its source.
Thirty seconds passed in absolute silence. When I removed my hand from the little girl’s forehead, she blinked up at me with clear eyes.
“Mama?” she said, her voice no longer weak and hoarse. “I’m thirsty.”
<
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The mother touched her daughter’s face in disbelief. The burning fever was
completely gone. The child’s skin had returned to a healthy color, and her breathing was normal.
“She’s–she’s cured!” the woman gasped, tears streaming down her face. “The fever’s gone! How did you-?”
Dr. Cobbett pushed forward, his medical training overcoming his shock. He examined the child quickly, checking her temperature, her eyes, her breathing.
“Impossible,” he muttered. “The fever’s completely gone. Her lungs are clear.” He looked up at me with astonishment. “What did you do?”
Dr. Davenport shouldered his way forward, snatching the girl’s wrist to feel her pulse. His face went from smug certainty to utter disbelief.
“This–this can’t be real,” he stammered. “No one can cure acute pneumonia in seconds! It’s a trick!”
But the evidence was right in front of everyone. The child who had been barely conscious from fever moments ago was now sitting up, alert and asking for water.
I turned to Dr. Davenport, whose face had turned an interesting shade of purple. “Still think I’m just an ‘upstart pill–maker“?”
The mother fell to her knees, clasping my hand. “Thank you! Thank you! I have no money, but I swear I’ll find a way to pay you-
I helped her up gently. “No payment necessary. Just make sure she drinks plenty of fluids for the next few days.”
obbett
Dr. was still staring at me like I’d performed actual magic. To him, I supposed I had.
“Mr. Knight,” he said, his voice hushed with reverence, “I think we need to talk.”
Dr. Davenport’s expression had shifted from disbelief to calculation. I could practically see him reassessing his position, trying to determine if he should continue opposing me or try to align himself with my obvious power.
But I wasn’t finished with my demonstration just yet. I turned to face the crowded waiting room, where dozens of wide–eyed patients were watching in stunned silence.
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“Now,” I said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “who’s next?”
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