Cultivator God, Thanks to Beautiful CEO

Chapter 3

"So this... is my true lineage..." Melvin murmured, staring at his radiant, qi-infused palms in quiet stillness.

Beside him, Evelyn let out a pained gasp as the toxin approached a critical threshold.

Without hesitation, Melvin leaned forward. Channeling his celestial qi into his fingertips, he condensed the raw energy into sharp, invisible needles of pure light. With effortless precision, he struck her vital acupoints—her forehead, her throat, and her upper chest.

Swish!

A cool, harmonizing wave of pure celestial energy flowed directly from Melvin’s hands into Evelyn’s turbulent meridians. The volatile heat-toxin was neutralized on impact, dissolving into harmless vapor that evaporated through her pores.

Evelyn’s strained breathing steadily evened out. The deep crimson flush across her cheeks softened into a healthy glow, and her frantic restlessness succumbed to a deep, restorative sleep.

Carefully pulling a soft blanket over her shoulders, Melvin stood up and adjusted his jacket. He looked down at his palms, a sharp, cold light glinting in the depths of his eyes.

Melvin was no longer the broke, powerless intern who could be stepped on by pampered young masters, and didn’t feel fear to confront Gavin and other. He becomed the sole heir to the Sovereign Astral Meridian.

"Gavin Vance... Victor Vance..." Melvin whispered into the quiet room, his voice carrying quiet, absolute authority. "Tomorrow, the debt begins."

Within the master suite of the Westridge estate, Evelyn Cross opened her eyes. The suffocating fever that had threatened to fracture her mind the previous evening had vanished entirely, replaced by an extraordinary, lingering clarity.

Sitting up on the velvet sofa, her breath caught as her memory returned. Start from the corporate banquet, the tainted wine, her frantic escape into the storm, and the calm, steady young driver who had carried her across her threshold.

Glancing toward the adjacent marble table, her gaze caught a neatly folded sheet of heavy stationery. Beside it rested a silver fountain pen.

Unfolding the paper, Evelyn scanned the confident, precise calligraphy.

It contained a formulation of six common botanical herbs paired with exact decoction timings—a quiet, ingenious restorative tonic engineered to flush the lingering toxic chemical residue from her liver. Beneath the prescription, rendered in a single disciplined stroke, sat a short note:

‘The substance was a localized neuro-toxin, administered through your glass. Replenish your stamina before addressing the board.’

"Who were you?" Evelyn whispered, her fingertips tracing the sharp edges of the ink.

As Executive Director of Apex Medical Center, she was intimately familiar with the handwriting of every senior chief of medicine across the province, yet this formula exhibited an architectural balance that eclipsed standard modern pharmacology.

Reaching for her encrypted phone on the nightstand, she dialed her chief of staff. "Trace the rideshare dispatch routed to the Grand Plaza side exit last night. I want the driver's full personnel profile on my desk within the hour."

Thirty minutes later, across the district, the grand auditorium of Apex Medical Center hummed with dense, expectant murmurs.

Attending physicians, department heads, and dozens of young medical interns filled the tiered mahogany benches. Elevated upon the central stage stood Dr. Victor Vance, Vice Director of the hospital, his posture rigid and unyielding.

Clad in a pristine lab coat beside him was his son, Gavin Vance, whose subtly bandaged right hand did little to obscure the triumphant smirk lingering at the corners of his mouth.

Near the front row, Vanessa sat with folded arms, draped in an expensive designer dress, her eyes anchored to the double doors with cold, expectant hunger.

They had assembled for a public execution.

When the heavy oak doors at the rear of the hall swung inward, every head turned in unison.

Melvin walked down the carpeted aisle with measured, rhythmic steps. His attire remained modest, yet his presence was entirely unrecognizing. Gone was the slouched, exhausted intern weighed down by double shifts and quiet endurance. He held himself upright, his chin level, his dark eyes clear and absolute.

Beneath his shirt, the Sovereign Astral Meridian hummed with circulating celestial qi, refining his senses and sharpening his awareness to a razor's edge. Through his newly awakened Astral Sight, the entire auditorium unfolded before him in transparent layers—he could discern the irregular pulse signatures of the board members, the arterial calcification of the senior staff, and the stagnant, dark qi decaying within Victor Vance’s liver.

"Look at him, still trying to project confidence," Vanessa muttered to the colleague beside her, her lip curling in quiet disdain. "He doesn't even comprehend that his career ends today."

Melvin stopped at the foot of the stage, coming to a halt before the disciplinary dais.

"Melvin," Dr. Victor Vance began, his voice magnified by the podium microphone, echoing through the silent hall with practiced, institutional authority. "You have been summoned before the executive medical board regarding a critical breach of professional ethics and patient safety."

Victor tapped a thick leather folder resting beside the microphone, his tone laced with calibrated disappointment.

"Last night, during an unannounced audit of the emergency ward, serious discrepancies were uncovered regarding your handling of high-risk pharmaceuticals. Furthermore, signed affidavits confirm you falsified patient records to cover up critical diagnostic errors, errors that directly jeopardized human life."

A wave of hushed shock rippled through the gallery. Malpractice allegations of this magnitude meant far more than termination; they guaranteed the permanent destruction of his credentials and immediate criminal prosecution.

Gavin stepped forward, resting his uninjured arm against the wooden stand, adjusting his voice into a solemn, regretful cadence calculated for the audience. "As Chief Resident, delivering this assessment brings me no pleasure. Melvin was once a dedicated student. However, extreme personal financial strain and outside nocturnal employment have severely compromised his cognitive judgment. He is simply unfit to hold a scalpel, let alone make decisions regarding human lives."

Vanessa leaned back into her bench, a subtle, satisfied smile settling across her face. She waited to witness the breaking point—the frantic panic, the pale trembling, the pathetic pleas for leniency that had filled their apartment hours prior.

Instead, Melvin stood perfectly still.

His silence stretched across the auditorium, heavy and absolute. The unbothered stillness in his eyes caught Gavin off guard, sending a sudden, unexpected chill down the young master's spine.

"Is that the extent of your filing?" Melvin asked quietly, his voice cutting through the hall with effortless resonance.