2025-10-14 16:03:36By dusk, the glow of Salt Lake General softened into a tired orange haze. Rick dragged himself home, badge flickering green at the scanner.
The apartment smelled faintly of ginger tea and exhaustion. Evelyn looked up from her datapad. “So, how does it feel being the hospital’s latest saint?”
Rick smiled, weary. “If I’m a saint, then miracles are overrated.”
She stood, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’re calling you the Golden Apprentice. Half the board’s buzzing about divine-meridian revival. The other half wants your license audited.”
He unbuttoned his coat. “Figures.”
“Rick, this isn’t funny.” Her voice hardened. “Rumors like that get people disappeared. My father says the Syndicate already requested your report.”
Rick’s expression darkened. “Your father’s always listening to the Syndicate.”
“He’s survived them,” she said quietly. “That’s the difference between you two.”
Rick sat, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t ask to be special, Ev. I just… saw the pattern, like a memory waking up.”
She came closer, kneeling beside him. “Then hide it. Publish the method under Yuren Sun’s name. Let him take the spotlight, it’ll shield you.”
He shook his head. “That’s not right. I won’t bury the truth behind a nameplate.”
Evelyn’s eyes softened. “Truth doesn’t help the dead, Rick. Only survivors.”
He looked at her, guilt flickering behind defiance. “You think I’m reckless.”
“I think you’re walking into a machine that eats people like you.”
The words hung there. She touched his hand; the golden pulse beneath his skin flared once, faintly lighting the room. She gasped, pulling back. “Rick, your wrist.”
He covered it quickly. “It’s nothing. Just after-effects.”
Her voice trembled. “It’s not nothing. Promise me you’ll stop before this ruins us.”
He didn’t answer. When she turned away, her reflection in the window looked like someone already grieving.
While the city slept, Isaac Voss moved like a ghost through the data-archives wing. The hum of servers filled the air, punctuated by his heartbeat.
He slid a clearance card into the console, his uncle’s ID, borrowed, not stolen. The monitor unlocked with a soft chime: Administrator Access Granted.
Footage flickered, ER cameras from the night of Lila’s revival. Frame by frame, Isaac watched Rick inserting the forbidden pattern of needles.
The child’s body glowing gold. Rick’s hand blazing brighter. “Not medicine,” he whispered. “Magic.”
He paused the feed, zooming in until Rick’s wrist filled the screen, the golden rune shining like a brand.
The door creaked behind him. He froze, but it was only the wind from the old ventilation shaft.
Isaac copied the file to a data-chip and pocketed it. “Let’s see how the Syndicate defines miracles.”
Before he left, the monitors flickered, static crawling across the frames. For half a heartbeat, golden light rippled through every screen, pulsing in sync with his own.
He backed away slowly, whispering, “What the hell?”
The lights steadied. Only silence answered. By morning, the rain had washed the city clean. The courtyard outside Salt Lake General smelled of wet concrete and ozone.
Rick walked among blooming patients and interns sipping coffee, nodding at him with mixed awe and unease.
One elderly patient stopped him. “Doctor Franklin, thank you for saving that child. We needed hope.”
Rick smiled faintly. “Hope’s contagious, ma’am. Be careful with it.”
When she left, he spotted Isaac across the garden path. The senior apprentice’s face was unreadable; he offered a stiff nod.
Rick returned it, sensing something brittle behind the politeness. A strange hum prickled beneath his skin, the rune answering a vibration in the air, too faint for anyone else to feel.
He flexed his wrist. The glow pulsed once, then settled. The city itself seemed to inhale.
From an office window above, Yuren Sun watched, one hand on the glass. His reflection looked older than it had the night before.
For a long moment, mentor and student shared the same sunrise, one heavy with warning, the other with quiet defiance.
Rick exhaled, unaware the rhythm in his veins had begun syncing with something deeper beneath the hospital foundations.
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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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