Chapter 4

A flicker of fear crossed Henry's face. He knew all too well how powerful Clyde was. If Clyde truly wanted him dead, it wouldn't be difficult in the slightest.

Hmph!

Henry shot Edward a resentful glare and let out a cold snort. Then, he stepped aside, not daring to utter another word. But his eyes remained filled with mockery and disdain as he watched Edward. He wanted to see what kind of miserable end awaited Edward when he inevitably failed to save Dylan.

When that happened, Clyde's wrath would come crashing down on Edward, and he would probably end up dumped in the sea as fish food.

However, Clyde looked at Edward with desperate hope. His tone was respectful, almost pleading. "Dr. Channing, I'll leave everything to you. Please... you have to save my father."

Edward said nothing. His gaze shifted back to the old man. In the next instant, his silver needles pierced nine critical acupoints with lightning speed.

Edward's fingers moved swiftly over the nine needles, tapping each one. Soon, the needles began to vibrate in a synchronized rhythm, as if resonating with some unseen force.

Anyone with knowledge of traditional medicine would have immediately recognized this technique—it was none other than the long-lost Nine Needles of Revival.

Legend had it that the Nine Needles of Revival was a technique created by Benedict Quinton, the famed physician of old. It was said to have the power to bring the dead back to life.

However, as time passed, the method was lost to history, surviving only as vague mentions in ancient medical texts.

Henry watched Edward with cold skepticism. He didn't believe for a second that anyone could bring the dead back to life.

But then—

Beep!

A sharp electronic tone rang out, and on the heart monitor, the once-flat line suddenly spiked.

"This... this is impossible!"

Henry's eyes widened like saucers as he stared in disbelief.

Just moments ago, Dylan had no breath or pulse. By all medical standards, he was dead.

And yet, the monitor now showed that the old man had a steady heartbeat.

Satisfied with the result, Edward turned to Clyde. "I need to use the restroom. Don't touch the needles before I get back, or you'll suffer the consequences."

Clyde nodded quickly, then gestured for Steven to escort Edward.

"This doesn't make sense in scientific terms…!" Henry muttered to himself as he circled the medical equipment, his expression dazed.

Moments ago, Dylan had stopped breathing, and his heart had stopped beating—he was a corpse.

But now, his breathing was smooth, and his heartbeat was strong.

No matter how Henry looked at it, this was not the body of a dead man.

"Dad! You can't just die like this! You haven't even written your will to leave me my share!"

At that moment, a man in his thirties, reeking of alcohol and dressed in designer clothes, came rushing in with a tear-streaked face. He was Noah Hardwick, Dylan's youngest son.

Clyde's expression darkened as he barked, "Noah! What the hell are you wailing about? Dad's not dead!"

Noah froze in shock. "Wait... What? Clyde, are you serious? Dad's still alive?"

Clyde's eyes narrowed as he stared Noah down. The stench of alcohol hit him, and he could already guess where his younger brother had been before this. He had half a mind to slap him across the face but managed to hold back.

Noah finally turned toward the bed and hurried over.

Seeing the medical monitors displaying stable vitals, he let out a small breath of relief. But the moment his gaze landed on the silver needles sticking out of his father's body, his expression twisted in anger.

"Who the hell stuck all these needles in my dad?"

Seeing Noah's sharp glare shift to him, Henry immediately raised his hands in defense. "Mr. Noah, this has nothing to do with me! Some punk did it!"

Noah's brows shot up in fury. "Unbelievable! Get these damn needles out! What if they actually make things worse?"

Henry's eyes lit up with excitement. He quickly added fuel to the fire. "Mr. Noah, you don't know how arrogant that kid was! We were the ones who saved your father, but he had the nerve to claim it was his needles that brought him back!"

"How dare you?!"

Clyde's furious roar shook the room as he stormed over.

Henry shrank back, fear flickering across his face. He immediately shut his mouth.

"Noah, stop this nonsense! Those needles were placed by the Mystic Healer—"

Noah waved a hand impatiently, cutting him off. "Mystic what? Never heard of him! You've obviously been scammed, Clyde."

With that, he reached out to pull the needles from Dylan's body.

Clyde lunged to stop him, but it was too late.

The moment Noah yanked out a needle, the medical monitors blared with urgent beeping.

Noah froze, his face going pale.

"You idiot!" Clyde roared.

Clyde shoved Noah aside, his eyes filled with panic as he stared at his father on the bed.

Noah stood frozen, completely dumbfounded. He glanced at the silver needle in his hand, then at the monitors flashing with plummeting vitals. His expression finally twisted with fear.

"Henry, what the hell are you standing around for? Get over here and save my father!"

Noah's frantic gaze snapped to Henry, who was standing there, stunned.

Henry jolted at the order and hurriedly waved for the medical team to start resuscitation efforts. The room erupted into chaos as doctors and nurses scrambled to revive Dylan.

But after all the frantic effort, nothing changed.

Noah's face darkened, his eyes burning with murderous intent as he turned on Henry.

"Didn't you just say you were the one who saved my dad? If you can't bring him back now, you're all dead!"

Cold sweat poured down Henry's face. His panic-stricken eyes darted to Noah as he stammered, "I—I'm sorry, Mr. Noah! I was talking nonsense before. It wasn't me who saved him—"

Regret surged through him like a tidal wave. Why the hell had he tried to take credit for Edward's work?

Now, something had happened.

He was screwed!

If something really happened to Dylan, Noah would never let him walk out of here alive.

"What the hell is going on?"

A calm but sharp voice cut through the tension.

Edward strode back into the room, his eyes narrowing at the blaring monitors. Confusion flickered across his face.

He had stabilized Dylan before he left. Why had things suddenly taken a turn for the worse?

Then he saw the silver needle clutched in Noah's hand, and his expression darkened instantly.

"Why did you pull out my needles? Didn't I say not to touch them before I left?"

Edward's tone was filled with dissatisfaction. He had already given clear instructions, yet someone still chose to ignore them. Did they not take him seriously? Did they think they could disregard Edward entirely?

Clyde rushed forward, his face filled with desperation. "Dr. Channing, please! You have to save my father!"

He knew the truth—Edward had brought his father back once. Now, only Edward could do it again.

Noah's eyes flicked to Edward, realization dawning on his face. His voice turned arrogant as he sneered, "So it was you who stuck those needles in my dad?

"Hurry up and save him! If you cure him, I'll reward you handsomely. But if you fail—you're dead!"

Clyde's heart sank the moment he heard Noah's words.

Was that any way to ask for help?

Sure enough, Edward's expression darkened. His eyes turned cold as he glanced at Noah, irritation flickering across his face.

"And whose bright idea was it to yank out my needles? Since you think you know better, why don't you handle it yourself? I'm done here."

Then, he turned to Clyde and said flatly, "I took your money, I did my job, and I saved your father. We're even."

With that, Edward turned to leave.

His mood was already in the gutter because of the divorce, and now he had to deal with a brainless idiot like Noah? He had no patience for this.

Did they really think he was here for a lousy ten million?

Clyde saw Edward heading for the door, and panic flashed in his eyes. He rushed forward, blocking Edward's path, his face filled with desperation.

"Dr. Channing, please! I'm begging you—save my father! I'll pay you more, whatever you want. Ten million, 20 million—name your price!"

Edward arched a brow, his gaze icy. "Do you really think I'm doing this for money?"

Clyde immediately realized his mistake. He shook his head frantically. "No, of course not! That's not what I meant! I know you're not in it for the money."

He bowed deeply, his voice pleading. "Please, Dr. Channing. Whatever it takes—just save my father."

Noah scoffed and stepped forward, his eyes filled with disdain. "Come on, Clyde. He's just a doctor. Do you really need to grovel like this?

"Kid, which hospital do you work for? Believe it or not, one phone call from me and you'll be blacklisted. You won't last a day in Havaria."

Noah's arrogant threat reignited Edward's simmering anger. A sharp glint flashed in his eyes as he turned to Noah, his gaze cold as ice.

"Oh? Is that so? Then I'd love to see how you plan to kick me out of Havaria."

As soon as Edward spoke, an overwhelming aura burst out from him—commanding and unshakable. The sheer force of it struck Noah silent, his bravado crumbling as he instinctively shrank back.

Clyde watched Edward in astonishment. He could feel it too—that undeniable presence. It was as if Edward were a king standing high above, looking down on mere mortals.

Then, something clicked in his mind, and he recalled his recent conversation with Skyler.

Skyler was a dominant figure in Zarconia's business world, and Drakon Group was a massive conglomerate with a market value in the trillions. Not just in Zarconia, but even across the entire Rivermarsh Province, there were very few people who could command Skyler's utmost respect.

And yet, during their phone call, Skyler's tone had changed at the mention of Edward—his usual authority replaced with deference.

Havaria was just a lower-tier city in Rivermarsh Province, and it paled in comparison to a provincial capital city like Zarconia. Naturally, there were even fewer individuals there who could earn Skyler's deference.

However, Edward was an exception!

Clyde's thoughts gradually returned to the present, and his gaze toward Edward grew complex. He understood that if even Skyler had to treat Edward with such reverence, he himself certainly couldn't afford to offend Edward.

Slap!

A sharp, crisp sound of a slap echoed through the room.