Hudson: The Secret Doctor

9

At that moment, Adrian—who had finally pieced everything together—felt a surge of fury so intense he could’ve killed Dr. Martinez on the spot.

But instead, to protect his own reputation, Dr. Martinez pretended he had everything under control, ignoring the fact that Arlo’s life was on the line. He couldn’t fool Adrian—he might have fooled others, but not himself.

When Adrian burst into the room, Dr. Martinez looked up with a somber expression and said, “Mr. Lewis, I’m truly sorry. I couldn’t save your father—”

It felt like lightning had struck him. Adrian froze, staring at the bed, his body trembling.

Arlo lay there, covered in silver needles, his body streaked with blood. He looked absolutely broken.

“Grandpa…” Ivory rushed in right behind and collapsed to the floor at the sight. She sobbed uncontrollably, her voice cracking as she cried out.

Dr. Martinez stepped forward. “Please accept my condolences. His time had come.”

Adrian struck him across the face with the back of his hand, sending the doctor crashing into a nearby cabinet.

“You bastard!” he yelled. “You hypocritical fraud—I’ll kill you!”

Adrian kicked him repeatedly, each blow landing with a thud, while Dr. Martinez screamed and writhed on the floor.

“That’s enough.”

Hudson’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. Adrian paused, breathing hard, his eyes still burning with rage as he glared down at the man who had failed his father.

Bruised and shaken, Dr. Martinez struggled to his feet and shouted, “You said it yourself—if I couldn’t save him, I wouldn’t be held responsible! And now you beat me?”

“Do you even know who I am? I have connections with every major martial family in the region!” 

“I swear, if I don’t get a proper apology, I’ll make sure your family is blacklisted in Beverly. You won’t be able to survive here!”

Even after everything, the man still didn’t accept blame.

Adrian raised his hand again, but Dr. Martinez flinched and stumbled back, fear finally settling on his face.

Adrian didn’t want to cause more chaos—not now, not while his father’s body was still warm.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Then he turned to the bed, dropped to his knees, and broke down.

“Dad… I’m so sorry. I failed you. I wasn’t a good son…”

Ivory knelt beside him, crying just as hard. “Grandpa… I thought we could still fix this. I really thought bringing Hudson in might help…”

But it was too late. They had trusted the wrong man, and now there was no turning back.

“Why are you crying?” Hudson said, stepping forward. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

The three of them froze, their grief briefly interrupted by his words.

Ivory was the first to react, her mind flashing back to all the moments when Hudson had accurately diagnosed her grandfather’s condition—when he’d warned them about Dr. Martinez and predicted this outcome. His confidence, his insight—it all made sense now.

Could it be? Could there still be hope?

She stood up, almost stumbling, and looked at him with wide, desperate eyes. “Hudson… Are you saying you can still save him?”

Adrian looked up too, searching Hudson’s face, clinging to the possibility.

Hudson gave a small nod. “Yeah. Otherwise, do you really think I’d just stand here and watch him die? I didn’t step in earlier because I wanted you to see someone’s true colors,” Hudson said coldly, glancing at Dr. Martinez, who stood there frozen in shock.

Then Hudson rolled up his sleeves, extended his hand over Arlo’s body, and with one sweeping motion, all the silver needles embedded in Arlo’s skin flew out—like metal pulled by a magnet—and clung tightly to Hudson’s palm.

As the needles came out, blood started to gush from Arlo’s body again. But Hudson’s right hand shot out with incredible speed, pressing several points on Arlo’s torso, and almost instantly, the bleeding stopped.

Dr. Martinez, who’d been the target of Hudson’s earlier criticism, was furious—until he saw what Hudson had done. His rage faded into disbelief. His eyes widened.

In all his years of practicing medicine, he’d never seen a technique like that. It looked rough, unrefined—but it worked.

“Hudson... is my grandpa really going to wake up?” Ivory asked through her tears, still struggling to believe what she’d just witnessed.

“It’s not a big deal,” Hudson replied calmly as he picked up a spare cloth, wiped the blood from Arlo’s body, and dropped the used needles aside.

Could he really bring someone back from the dead?

Even Dr. Martinez didn’t know what to believe. As a doctor, he had already checked Arlo’s vitals before Adrian entered the room—he was certain the man was gone. No breath. No heartbeat.

And yet… Hudson was acting like this was something he could fix.

Within seconds, Hudson had inserted forty-nine silver needles into precise points on Arlo’s body.

Dr. Martinez’s jaw dropped. “That’s… the Infinite Needle Technique…” he whispered, eyes wide with awe. He was so stunned he didn’t even notice the pain from his earlier beating.

Memories came rushing back.

When he was a young apprentice, traveling with his master, they had once treated a dying war hero in California. Moved by the man’s contributions, his master had used this exact needle technique—the Infinite Needle—to extend his life by six months.

At the time, his master had told him, “This technique can defy death itself. As long as the person has just stopped breathing, this method can bring them back. It can even extend life. It’s a true miracle.”

His master had only learned a partial version of the method from a damaged medical text. Even so, it had saved countless lives.

On his deathbed, the master had said, “Don’t stop searching for the complete version of the Infinite Needle. And if you ever find it—burn a copy at my grave.”

For decades, Dr. Martinez had searched. But few had even heard of the method, and most dismissed it as legend.

Eventually, he gave up hope. And now, right in front of him, Hudson was using it—perfectly.

Hudson’s technique was deliberate and confident. After placing all forty-nine needles, he didn’t insert another. Instead, he began stimulating specific points with light taps of his fingers.

Dr. Martinez held his breath, watching every move. He counted the needles again—forty-nine exactly. The technique's name came from the ancient divination system of the 50 yarrow stalks of Dayan, with one removed to symbolize the unknown.

Hudson’s understanding of the method was beyond anything Dr. Martinez had ever seen.

Eventually, Hudson began to remove the needles—one from the left, then one from the right, slow and controlled.

Ivory and Adrian watched anxiously. The needles were out, but Arlo still wasn’t moving.

“Hudson… my grandfather…” Ivory began. “Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

“He’s one punch away,” Hudson replied calmly.

‘One punch away? What the hell did that mean?’ both Ivory and Adrian asked in their mind.

And was about to ask when Hudson suddenly drew back his fist and delivered a solid punch straight to Arlo’s chest.

“Ahem—”

Arlo’s body jerked, and he coughed. His eyes fluttered open.

Behind them, Dr. Martinez stumbled forward and dropped to his knees in front of Hudson.