Ancient Medical Rising System: Rise Of The Forsaken Doctor

Chapter 1B: The Healer of Salt Lake

By 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.