"What do you think you're doing?"
Two men rushed forward to block Colin.
"Stand down!" Marjorie shot them a sharp look, then turned to Colin. "Are you sure about this?"
Colin nodded and pulled the silver needles from the second patient.
By the time he reached the eleventh, an old man in a gray robe came hurrying over, his white beard bristling with fury.
"Stop! What the hell are you doing?"
The old man was so angry his whiskers practically stood on end. He shoved Colin aside.
"Are you trying to kill these people?"
Colin studied him. "You must be Dr. Murphy."
Russell Murphy—Seacliff's legendary practitioner of traditional medicine. Even Colin had heard of him.
"That's right." Russell's face was purple with rage. He shoved Colin again. "These patients have been poisoned. I've been administering my Vernal Detox technique—it takes two hours to fully purge the toxins. And you just ripped out every single needle!" His voice cracked. "You might as well have yanked the oxygen tube from a dying man!"
"You've wasted all my work. These people will die right here, right now. What exactly are you playing at?"
Colin's brow furrowed slightly. "Dr. Murphy, your diagnosis is wrong."
"What? You dare question me?" Russell looked ready to explode. He jabbed a finger in Colin's face. "I've practiced medicine my entire life! I've saved more people than you can count—"
"I'm not questioning your record. I'm telling you what's actually happening. These workers aren't poisoned. They're—"
"Nonsense!"
Russell cut him off with a roar. "Seize him! Take him to the police—this man is attempting murder!"
The two men in suits moved to grab Colin, but Marjorie's bodyguards stepped between them.
"Dr. Murphy." Marjorie's voice was calm but firm. "Colin is a physician I brought in myself."
"Miss Floyd!" Russell finally noticed her. His white eyebrows knotted together. "If you know what's good for you, you'll have him arrested immediately. Otherwise, all thirteen of these people will die!"
"I..."
Marjorie thought of her grandfather's words. Colin's methods did seem reckless, but she'd made her choice. "I'm putting my trust in Colin."
"You—!" Russell's whiskers quivered with indignation.
"What's going on here?"
A middle-aged man strode into the room, his bearing heavy with the authority of someone long accustomed to power. This was Samuel Floyd, Marjorie's uncle and a formidable figure within the family.
Russell's eyes lit up like he'd found a savior. He rushed over and laid out Colin's "crimes" in excruciating detail.
"Arrest him!" Samuel's face darkened with fury.
"Uncle Samuel, please—trust me. Colin can heal them." Marjorie held her ground.
Samuel's cold gaze swept over her. "He walks in and starts yanking out needles? That's not medicine—that's recklessness. What could some green boy possibly know about healing? Russell Murphy is the most renowned physician in Seacliff. You'd trust this nobody over him?"
His voice turned to ice. "Marjorie, if you mishandle this, we're talking about thirteen lives. You won't just lose your position as head of Seacliff operations—you'll lose your standing in the family entirely."
"Think very carefully about what you're risking."
Marjorie's slender frame trembled, but she lifted her chin. "Uncle Samuel, I'm putting my trust in Colin."
Before Samuel could respond, Colin spoke up. "Two patients still have their needles in. We'll know soon enough who's right."
He sat down, closed his eyes, and began circulating his Vital Abbott, preparing for the treatment ahead.
Breaking the Dragon Seal had cost him nearly all his cultivation. What little energy he could muster now was barely a thread—but it would be enough for what came next.
That was when it happened.
The two patients still bristling with silver needles began to convulse, their faces twisting in agony. The dark miasma pooled at their chests started spreading outward, creeping toward their limbs.
The monitors tracking their vitals shrieked in alarm, their shrill warnings filling the room.
"What—"
Russell and Samuel both went pale. Even they could see it: the patients were deteriorating rapidly.
Meanwhile, the eleven patients Colin had treated remained stable.
"Dr. Murphy." Samuel's voice was dangerously quiet. "Explain."
"I... this shouldn't be happening." Russell clutched at his beard, bewildered. "They were poisoned—my technique is the finest detoxification method there is. It should be helping, not making things worse!"
"Are you going to remove those needles or not?" Colin's eyes snapped open.
Marjorie moved before anyone could stop her, her hands swift and sure as she pulled the needles from the last two patients.
The effect was immediate. Like cold water poured into a boiling pot, their convulsions eased. The dark energy that had been spreading across their torsos retreated, condensing once more around their hearts.
The change was visible to everyone in the room. Russell's weathered face flushed crimson.
"Everyone out," Colin said, rising slowly. "I need to work."
Samuel shot Russell a withering look and swept out of the room without a word.
Once the others had gone, Marjorie closed the door and drew the curtains.
"Colin, what exactly is wrong with these people?"
"Get me a jar. You'll see soon enough."
Colin selected a silver needle and approached the first patient.
Channeling his Vital Abbott, he worked with blinding speed, his hands a blur of precise motion. From the Shanzhong point at the chest to the Shenting point at the crown of the head—thirty-seven needles in all.
What happened next defied explanation.
The dark mass coiled around the patient's heart began to move, following the path of the needles as if drawn by an invisible thread. It traveled upward, finally gathering at the Renzhong point just beneath the nose.
"Come out."
Colin flicked the final needle with his finger. From the patient's nostril emerged a black worm, glistening and writhing.
It was two inches long, covered in fine hair, its back marked with patterns that seemed almost deliberately sinister. The sight of it made Marjorie's stomach turn.
Colin dropped it into the waiting jar and sealed the lid.
He repeated the process for each patient. Thirteen worms, thirteen extractions, all now squirming together in the container.
"What are those things?" Marjorie's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Parasites." Colin's expression was grim. "Heart-Devouring Parasites, to be specific. They nest near the heart and slowly consume it from within. Eventually, the victim becomes what the old texts call 'one without a heart'—and dies in agony."
A chill ran down Marjorie's spine. "How did they get inside these people?"
"Parasites don't just appear on their own." Colin exhaled heavily, the strain of continuous needle-work showing on his face. "Someone planted them. Someone who wants Longtide Group destroyed."
Marjorie's face hardened. An enemy hiding in the shadows, wielding such dark arts—who could they possibly have offended so deeply?
Half a minute later, she gasped. "Colin—look!"
He followed her gaze to the jar. Inside, the thirteen worms had arranged themselves in a deliberate formation.
They spelled a single word.
Death.
