Cultivator God, Thanks to Beautiful CEO

Chapter 4

Victor Vance slammed his palm onto the podium, his face flushing dark. "The extent? You stand formally accused of gross negligence and falsification, intern! Do you have a single defense before this board strips your credentials and remands your file to the state medical commission?"

Melvin took a single step toward the stage. Through his Astral Sight, the Vice Director's body remained fully exposed—revealing not only the forged signatures tucked within the folder, but the thin, volatile arterial wall expanding precariously along Victor Vance's left carotid artery.

"I have plenty to say, Dr. Vance," Melvin said, a faint, cold tilt touching the edge of his lips. "Starting with the fact that every affidavit in that folder bears a forged signature... and ending with the reality that your left carotid artery won't survive the afternoon if you continue to raise your blood pressure."

A suffocating silence gripped the auditorium, so dense that the low hum of the overhead projector sounded like grinding iron.

Elevated upon the stage, Dr. Victor Vance froze, his knuckles turning pale as his fingers dug into the edge of the wooden podium.

For two agonizing seconds, the Vice Director’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Across the front row, the smirk on Gavin’s face faltered, replaced by an uneasy twitch beneath his eye, while Vanessa leaned forward, her brow furrowing in sharp confusion.

Before Victor could regain his composure or bark an order for security to seize the unbothered intern, the heavy double doors at the back of the auditorium burst open with a deafening metallic crash.

A dozen men in tailored black suits flooded down the central aisle, their sharp, synchronized footsteps reverberating off the mahogany walls. The attending physicians and senior department heads scrambled backward, clearing the benches in a wave of sudden panic. Walking at the center of the armed escort was a woman whose very presence seemed to drop the room’s temperature by ten degrees.

Lady Beatrix Sterling.

Draped in a charcoal-grey silk suit, her silvering hair swept back in a disciplined, elegant chignon, the matriarch of the Sterling Syndicate moved with the icy, unquestioned authority of an empress entering a conquered territory. Her dark eyes, cold and sharp as polished obsidian, swept over the stage, ignoring the administrative dais entirely.

Behind her, four paramedics pushed a high-speed emergency gurney, the telemetry monitors beeping in a frantic, irregular rhythm.

"Clear the room," Beatrix commanded. Her voice was not loud, yet it carried an absolute weight that silenced the entire hall. "Now."

Dr. Victor Vance swallowed hard, forcing his blood pressure down as he stepped away from the microphone, adjusting his lab coat with trembling hands. "Lady Beatrix... we were in the middle of an executive disciplinary hearing, but if the Sterling family requires emergency facilities—"

"My daughter is dying," Beatrix interrupted, her gaze locking onto Victor like a drawn blade. "Every senior specialist in this hospital will report to the VIP isolation suite immediately. Anyone who fails to move within ten seconds will be removed permanently."

Panic erupted across the stage. Department heads scrambled for their coats, while Dr. Samuel Reed, the chief specialist of gynecology, rushed toward the gurney with a portable diagnostic tablet.

Melvin remained where he stood at the foot of the stage, his hands resting casually inside his jacket pockets. As the gurney rolled past him, his Astral Sight activated effortlessly. The physical surroundings dissolved into transparent, shimmering layers of energy and tissue.

Lying upon the white sheets was Chloe Sterling. The nineteen-year-old heiress was trapped in a deep, unresponsive coma. Her features were delicate, her skin a waxy, translucent pale—yet beneath her waist, her abdomen was distended to an impossible degree, swollen as if she were carrying a full-term pregnancy.

"Vitals are collapsing!" Dr. Samuel Reed called out, his forehead dripping with nervous sweat as he glanced at the monitor. "Systolic pressure is dropping below sixty! Ultrasound scans from the transport vehicle show absolute spatial emptiness within the uterine cavity—no mass, no fluid, no internal bleeding!"

"That is impossible," Victor Vance muttered, stepping off the stage and approaching the gurney, desperate to assert his medical authority in front of the province's most dangerous matriarch. "A distension of this volume without cellular density or fluid accumulation defies basic human physiology!"

"Then explain why my daughter’s heart is stopping!" Beatrix demanded, her hand closing tightly over the brass handle of her walking cane.

Dr. Samuel Reed's hands shook violently as he held the diagnostic tablet. Deep in debt to black-market gambling rings controlled by dark factions, he had already been pressured by Victor Vance to act as the primary fall-guy for high-risk medical anomalies.

Pushed to the brink, Samuel’s eyes darted frantically around the room until they landed on Melvin, who was quietly observing the patient's meridian pathways from the edge of the corridor.

Seeing a sudden, sinister opportunity to pivot away from his administrative failure, Victor Vance’s lips curled into a subtle, malicious smile. He stepped beside Lady Beatrix, gesturing toward Melvin with calibrated solemnity.

"Lady Beatrix," Victor spoke softly, his voice dripping with false concern. "Standard modern medicine appears baffled by your daughter's condition. However, this intern—Melvin—just claimed before the entire board to possess transcendent, absolute diagnostic sight. He insists our senior specialists are incompetent."

Gavin Vance instantly caught onto his father's scheme, stepping forward with an arrogant sneer. "That's right, Lady Beatrix. Melvin claims he can see things no machine can detect. Why not let him take full responsibility for Miss Chloe’s emergency treatment?"

Vanessa let out a quiet, cruel breath from the bench, realizing the trap Victor had laid. If Chloe Sterling died on the operating table under standard care, the hospital board would face catastrophic legal fallout from the Sterling Syndicate. But if a lowly, blacklisted intern officially assumed primary care and failed, the ruthless underworld dynasty would direct their entire bloody vengeance directly onto Melvin.

Beatrix turned her head slowly, her cold, piercing eyes anchoring onto Melvin. The air in the corridor grew heavy with implicit threat.

"You," Beatrix said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet register. "Intern. Is what they say true? Can you diagnose what is killing my daughter?"

Unfazed by the surrounding hostility or the lethal trap woven around him, Melvin took three measured steps forward, stopping beside the gurney.

Focusing his Astral Sight deeper into Chloe’s body, Melvin bypassed the superficial swelling and looked directly into her primary meridians. What he saw made his eyes narrow slightly. Lingering deep within her abdominal cavity was not a medical tumor or a biological pregnancy, but a swirling, pitch-black vortex of corrupted, volatile spiritual energy—a Void Energy Core, born from an insidious, ancient curse designed to devour her life force from the inside out.

"I know exactly what is inside her," Melvin said calmly, looking directly into Lady Beatrix's eyes. "And I can purge it."

Beatrix stared at him for a long, silent second, searching his clear, unbothered expression for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she stepped back and gestured toward the double doors of the VIP isolation bay.

"If you restore my daughter to health," Beatrix declared, her tone echoing with immense, unyielding weight, "the Sterling Syndicate will grant you whatever reward you name. But if she dies under your hands... not even the gods will protect you from what comes next."

"Lady Beatrix, wait!" Dr. Samuel Reed interjected frantically, clutching a tray of surgical scalpels. "We cannot allow an unlicensed intern to perform an unverified procedure! Standard protocol dictates an immediate exploratory abdominal incision to relieve pressure!"

Melvin warned softly, stepping toward the VIP doors. "Touch her with a blade and the reaction will kill her within three minutes!"