2025-10-14 16:02:21By sunrise, Salt Lake General was humming again, machines beeping, carts rattling, the faint smell of coffee fighting the sharper tang of disinfectant, but the whispering never stopped.
Rick kept his head down as he walked through the corridor. The overnight staff tried not to stare, yet their voices followed him like a second pulse. “That’s him, the kid who revived a dead child.”
“They said her skin turned gold.”
“Or maybe he just got lucky.”
He forced himself to smile at the nurses who dared to meet his eyes. Their smiles flickered back, half admiration, half fear.
He could still feel the phantom warmth of that glow under his own skin. It pulsed faintly now and then, a reminder of the moment when life had returned under his fingertips.
At the corner near Diagnostics, Isaac Voss waited, senior apprentice Yuren Sun’s chosen heir. Perfect posture, perfect coat, perfect contempt. “Morning, miracle boy,” Isaac said lightly.
Rick slowed. “Isaac.”
“They’re calling you the Golden Apprentice. Cute. Almost sounds divine.”
His grin didn’t reach his eyes. “I heard you broke three protocols last night. But who cares, right? As long as the cameras caught the halo.”
Rick folded his arms. “She’s alive. That’s what matters.”
“Alive because you gambled with forbidden meridians.” Isaac leaned closer, voice dropping.
“Don’t think that makes you chosen. It makes you dangerous.”
Rick’s jaw tightened. “You think I wanted attention?”
“I think you wanted glory. You always do.”
The hallway chilled. Behind them, interns pretended to study charts while listening. Rick exhaled. “Believe whatever helps you sleep.” He turned away.
Isaac’s whisper followed. “Enjoy your luck, Franklin. Miracles never last.”
Rick didn’t answer. He walked on, pulse loud in his ears. Outside the windows, the Salt Lake shimmered pale gold beneath the morning sun, a reflection of the light that still refused to die inside him.
By evening, the hospital quieted again. Rain ticked softly against the glass. Rick found himself drawn back to the pediatric ICU.
Lila lay asleep, color in her cheeks, a tiny bandage where the final needle had gone in. Her mother dozed in a chair, tear-streaked but peaceful.
Rick stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “Hey, little one. How’s the world treating you tonight?”
The girl stirred faintly but didn’t wake. Her pulse monitor beeped in calm rhythm, steady, strong.
He rested two fingers lightly on her wrist, the way Yuren had taught him, to listen instead of just measure.
And there it was again, the same golden rhythm, faint but alive, answering his touch. It wasn’t the machine’s beat; it was deeper, resonating through his bones. He whispered, “You remember me, don’t you?”
For an instant the sigil beneath his own skin glowed, subtle under the dim light. Lila’s pulse quickened in exact synchrony.
Rick jerked his hand back. The light faded. He looked around, empty hallway, silent monitors, nothing but the rain.
From the doorway, a soft voice spoke. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Rick turned. Master Yuren Sun stood in the shadows, coat draped loosely around him, eyes unreadable. “I wanted to check her condition,” Rick said quietly.
“She will live,” Yuren answered. “But you should ask yourself, why.”
Rick frowned. “Because I treated her.”
“Or because something treated both of you.”
Yuren’s gaze drifted to Rick’s wrist. Rick instinctively hid it in his sleeve. “You’re afraid,” Rick said.
Yuren didn’t deny it. “The world doesn’t reward miracles, Rick. It punishes them.”
The words hung heavy between them. The rain deepened, blurring the city lights beyond the glass.
Rick took a breath. “Then let it punish me. I won’t stop healing people.”
Yuren’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. “So said every healer who vanished into legend.” He turned toward the hallway.
“Master.”
But the corridor was already empty. Only the soft echo of footsteps remained. Rick looked once more at the sleeping child.
Her chest rose and fell, golden warmth flickering faintly beneath the skin, too faint for any machine to record. He whispered, “Stay well, Lila.”
Outside, the storm clouds thinned. First light touched the horizon, painting the Salt Lake in mirrored gold.
Rick stepped to the window. The reflection of dawn seemed to pulse with him, steady, insistent, alive. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat sync to that vast rhythm.
He didn’t see Yuren watching from a distant balcony, eyes shining with something between awe and fear. The old master murmured to the wind, “So the legend was true.”
Rick turned, sensing movement, but the balcony was empty.
That morning, as sunlight broke across the Salt Lake, Rick Franklin felt the world’s pulse beating in time with his own, and never realized it had already chosen him.
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Chapter 175. The Ash Forest
Rick stepped off the cracked path, boots sinking slightly into ash so fine it clung to his soles like wet flour. The air was heavy, electric, humming faintly against his skin. Lightning from centuries past had burned the forest to charcoal; even the wind whispered against the blackened trunks as though afraid to disturb the silence. No birds sang. No insects crawled. No small movements stirred the barren ground. The world here had been purified once, and now it was dead, or close enough to death that the difference no longer mattered.Luna followed behind, carrying the faint glow of her cocoon. She bent low, eyes narrowing, reaching toward the soil. Her hands hovered over patches of gray ash that seemed lifeless. "They’re still here," she whispered. "I can feel them, faint heartbeats, buried deep."Rick knelt beside her. Fingers tracing the uneven ground, he closed his eyes, letting his Qi seep into the soil. The System’s interface flickered faintly in the corner of his mind. [Env
Chapter 174. The Bridge of Echoes
Dawn broke over the canyon in long, silver shafts of light, slicing through the lingering mist like frozen blades. The bridge, once crumbling under the weight of neglect, now stood firm. Timber had been replaced, ropes reinforced, and carved stones aligned as if they had always belonged there. Rick moved across it cautiously, his boots whispering against the worn planks. Luna’s cocoon glowed faintly at his side, a soft pulse marking her slow, even breathing.The villagers had begun crossing again, tentative at first. Mothers carried children in their arms, small hands brushing the rails, eyes wide at the restored path. Farmers with bundles of produce hesitated, their gaze drawn to the wooden supports that now held steady. The bridge sang under their steps, a subtle vibration that spoke of both labor and life reclaimed. Rick watched quietly, feeling the resonance of movement through his own pulse, as if the bridge itself were a living thing remembering its purpose.Ahead, the swor
Chapter 173. The Blade’s Reflection
The canyon woke under a fragile light. Mist lingered along the riverbank, curling in silent spirals. Rick moved slowly, carrying Luna’s cocoon like a fragile vessel, the soft hum of her Qi pulsing against his chest. The swordswoman crouched by the water, her hands hovering above the river as though she feared breaking it.Her eyes were wide now, pupils clear for the first time in years. The world hit her all at once: the sun’s angle, the smell of wet stone, the trembling shimmer of water. She flinched, shielding her face with her arm.Rick knelt beside her without speaking. The wind carried the faint clang of the canyon’s loose stones, but no words were needed. He sensed her pulse racing, every beat a drum of panic. His own Qi threaded through her, steadying, like the quiet thrum of a metronome. “Look at the water,” he said quietly. “See it, not what it hides.”Her hands trembled as they touched the river’s surface. Shadows seemed to stir beneath her fingers, images of the people s
Chapter 172. The Echo Surgery
The canyon hung in near-silence, the kind that pressed against the ribs like the weight of water. A thin mist crawled across the jagged cliffs, licking the bases of the rock walls and swirling around the rickety bridge where travelers whispered tales of a blind swordswoman. Rick and Luna stepped into the clearing beside the bridge. Moonlight draped the ground in silver, making shadows spill like ink across the uneven stones. Luna’s cocoon glowed faintly, casting a pale warmth across the clearing.The villagers had stayed far from the bridge for years. No one dared cross. No one dared speak. And no one had seen the swordswoman since the mist had thickened. Rick had heard the story: a blade so precise, so attuned, it cut life from the air itself. She was not merely blind; she had trained her body and Qi to sense the world in vibrations. He could feel her before she appeared. Her Qi was sharp, restless, a humming wire ready to snap.He took a step forward, the soles of his boots crun
Chapter 171. The Blind Blade 2
The Blind Blade exhaled sharply, a breath she had not realized she was holding. The sword wavered, then dropped to the stone bridge. She took a step back, one that would have been unthinkable hours ago. Her eyes, still clouded from years of strain, reflected a faint shimmer of recognition, not sight. She understood what had been offered, and it was enough for now.Rick’s gaze drifted to the stars piercing the mist. For the first time in the canyon, the villagers below, the few who had dared watch, could see the faint glow of hope above the bridge. Luna stirred slightly in her cocoon, a tiny pulse echoing Rick’s satisfaction. “I am not here to take your life,” Rick said again. “I am here to show you a path back to yourself.”She lowered the sword fully, letting it rest against her leg. Her chest heaved with controlled breathing. Rick could feel her stillness, the balance slowly returning. Her Qi was no longer screaming, no longer in conflict with the world. It was as though a dam h
Chapter 171. The Blind Blade
The canyon was silent, wrapped in a veil of mist so thick it swallowed sound and light alike. Rick’s boots crunched over the loose stone as he stepped off the narrow trail, his movements careful, almost surgical, as though every step mattered more than the next. The mist clung to his coat, curling around him like a living thing, damp and heavy. Luna’s cocoon hovered at chest height, faintly glowing with her contained Qi. She was still, suspended between sleep and wakefulness, the slight pulse of her energy the only indicator of life.The villagers had warned him, their voices trembling with a mixture of fear and awe. Across the bridge that spanned the canyon, a woman moved silently, her presence described as a ghost more than flesh. They called her the Blind Blade. No one had survived crossing. Those who tried vanished, their screams swallowed by the canyon’s walls. Rick did not flinch at their stories; he had walked through worse, yet he understood the danger, the mist concealed
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