Cultivator God, Thanks to Beautiful CEO

Chapter 6

Ssssshhhh—!

A sharp, frigid draft swept through the room, plunging the temperature instantly. A plume of thick, dark-grey mist hissed outward from the pores of Chloe’s lower stomach. The mist swirled wildly in the air, emitting a faint, unnatural shriek before Melvin’s radiating aura incinerated it into harmless, invisible ash.

The swollen, drum-like distension of Chloe’s abdomen collapsed before the eyes of everyone in the room. Within five seconds, her stomach flattened completely back to its natural, slender form.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

The frantic, piercing alarm of the cardiac monitor abruptly smoothed into a steady, rhythmic pulse.

"Pressure surging back to 110 over 70!" the monitoring nurse stammered, her voice high and trembling with disbelief as she stared at the digital screen. "Heart rate seventy-two... oxygen saturation ninety-eight percent! The spatial displacement is gone! Her organ metrics are completely normal!"

A soft, shuddering gasp broke the silence.

On the bed, Chloe’s eyelids flickered open. The deathly, translucent pallor dissolved from her skin, replaced by a warm, delicate flush of life. She blinked slowly against the bright surgical lights, her dark pupils focusing on her mother standing beside her.

"Mother...?" Chloe whispered, her voice frail but undeniably clear. "Why are we in a hospital?"

The formidable matriarch of the Sterling Syndicate lost her cold posture in an instant. Dropping her cane to the floor, Beatrix reached down and gripped her daughter's hands tightly, her dark eyes wide with shock and overwhelming relief.

CLANG!

The silver tray slipped from Dr. Samuel Reed's trembling fingers, sending scalpels and surgical forceps crashing onto the floor. He stared at the healed heiress with his jaw hanging open and his face completely drained of color. Outside the glass window, Victor Vance recoiled as if struck, his hands shaking in fury and terror as his entire trap crumbled into dust.

Melvin smoothly plucked the four needles from Chloe’s skin with a single, sweeping gesture. He wiped them clean on a sterile swab, placed them back into the rosewood box, and snapped it shut.

Turning around, he looked directly past the trembling doctors and met the stunned gaze of Beatrix Sterling.

"The source of her affliction is destroyed," Melvin said casually, sliding the box back into his coat. "She'll need rest, and she will survive."

The heavy silence inside the VIP isolation suite was broken only by the rhythmic, steady beep of Chloe Sterling’s heart monitor. The deadly purple swelling on her abdomen had completely receded, replaced by the faint, healthy rose flush of restored vitality.

Dr. Victor Vance stood frozen near the door, his eyes wide with disbelief, while Dr. Samuel Reed swallowed hard, wiping sweat from his trembling forehead. They had set a trap to crush an impoverished intern, only to watch him execute a medical miracle that defied every standard law of modern clinical medicine.

Lady Beatrix Sterling stepped past the stunned doctors, her sharp eyes fixed entirely on Melvin. For the first time in years, the fearsome matriarch of the Sterling Syndicate showed genuine emotion, her voice softened by deep maternal gratitude.

"You saved my daughter’s life when every chief specialist in this city gave up on her," Beatrix said, her tone carrying immense authority. She gestured to her senior aide, who immediately presented a sleek, matte-black metallic card embossed with gold filigree.

"This is a pre-funded Sterling Syndicate black card loaded with one million dollars."

Beatrix continued, pressing the card directly into Melvin’s hand. "Consider this a minor initial token of my appreciation. In Sargana Province, the Sterling name carries absolute weight. If anyone in this hospital—or this city—dares to cause you trouble, you answer to me."

Melvin looked down at the card in his palm.

Four thousand dollars. That was what six months of midnight fares had come to — six months of skipped meals and thirty-six-hour rotations, condensed into a half-carat stone that had spent last night in a gutter on Ashford Street.

The card in his hand was worth two hundred and fifty of them.

"I accept," Melvin replied calmly, meeting her gaze without a hint of flattery or greed. "My priority was saving the patient. Keep her on a light fluid diet for the next twenty-four hours; her meridians are still stabilizing."

"Understood," Beatrix nodded, her respect for the young man growing by the second.

Leaving the VIP suite behind, Melvin walked down the gleaming marble corridor of Apex Medical Center.

As he neared the central pediatric lobby, his newly awakened Astral Sight twitched faintly. A dense, dark cloud of despair and grief pulsed from the billing counter ahead.

A young mother in a faded, threadbare coat was on her knees, her fingers desperately clutching the edge of the high granite counter. Tears streamed freely down her pale cheeks.

"Please... I beg you!" the mother wept, her voice trembling violently. "My daughter Lia's condition deteriorated overnight! The doctor said she needs immediate bone marrow stabilization and ICU placement, or she won't survive the night! I have half the deposit... I will work three jobs to pay the rest, I swear it!"

Behind the counter, the billing supervisor adjusted his glasses, his expression cold and unbothered.

The supervisor said dryly, tapping his keyboard without looking at her. "Madam, Apex Medical Center is a top-tier private institution, not a charity house. No full deposit and no ICU admission. Those are Vice Director Victor Vance's strict guidelines. If you can't pay the remaining balance, you are free to transfer her to the public county clinic."

"The county clinic is two hours away! She won't survive the ambulance ride!" the mother sobbed, her body shaking as she pressed her forehead against the cold tile floor. In a wheelchair beside her sat a frail four-year-old girl, her lips blue, gasping weakly for air.

The surrounding nurses and passersby looked on with pity, but none dared step forward to challenge the hospital's rigid financial rules.

Melvin’s eyes narrowed. The memory of his own powerlessness—being trampled by Gavin and Victor simply because he lacked status and wealth—flashed through his mind. A true physician cured ailments not for golden titles, but to defend life against the cruelty of the world.

Without a word, Melvin stepped past the crowd and stopped directly beside the weeping mother.

He slid the matte-black Sterling card across the granite counter.

"Process the full payment for this child's ICU transfer and all subsequent treatments. Take whatever is needed from this card!" Melvin said, his voice quiet yet carrying an undeniable command that echoed through the lobby.

The supervisor scoffed, ready to dismiss the intern, but the moment his eyes landed on the gold-embossed Sterling crest on the black card, his face drained of color. His fingers trembled as he quickly swiped it through the terminal.

The machine chimed softly: TRANSACTION APPROVED — $1,000,000 BALANCE AVAILABLE.

"S-Sir! Right away! Emergency Pediatric ICU team, mobilize immediately!" the supervisor yelled into his intercom, his cold demeanor instantly replaced by panic-stricken efficiency. Medical staff scrambled to carefully wheel little Lia toward the intensive care unit.

Elena, the young mother, stared at Melvin in absolute shock. She pushed herself up from the floor and fell to her knees before him, trying to grasp his hands through her tears. "Who... who are you? How can I ever repay you? I don't even know your name!"