Supreme Authority

Chapter 17

Less than twenty minutes had passed, though to the four onlookers it felt like hours. Finally, Alex lifted his hands from Jessica’s body, his movements steady and precise.

“It’s done,” he said, his voice calm but carrying weight. He leaned back on his heels, the tension in the room thick as smoke.

“Her body is now as healthy as any normal person’s. All she needs is rest.”

For a heartbeat, silence. No one dared move.

Adrian stood frozen, his eyes flicking from Jessica’s still form to Alex, searching for a trick, a flaw, anything.

“You… you’re saying she’s fine? Just like that?” His voice cracked with disbelief, as if the words themselves fought him.

Alex didn’t answer immediately. He set the silk strip aside with deliberate care, then pulled the blanket Cassandra had brought back over Jessica’s waist.

“Yes. The poison is gone. What’s left is only exhaustion. She’ll wake naturally once her strength returns.”

Cassandra’s hand covered her lips, her wide eyes locked on him. She had seen every motion, every impossible act, yet none of it resembled medicine as she knew it.

This wasn’t treatment. This was something beyond her comprehension—something otherworldly.

Lord Miller stepped forward at last, his boots heavy against the floor. He halted in front of Alex, staring down at the young man for a long, weighted moment.

“You… are no ordinary man,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent.

Alex met his gaze without flinching, offering no reply.

The old man’s eyes darted back to his granddaughter. The pallor was gone. A blush of color touched her cheeks. Her lips no longer blue but warm.

Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, smooth and peaceful. She looked as if she had only been napping. His mind rebelled against it.

All those healers, all those failures—and yet here she lay, breathing like nothing had ever been wrong.

What did I just witness? he thought. I’ve seen wars, duels, even the strange arts of cultivators, but nothing like this. This boy… who in God’s name is he?

Adrian shifted, his pride gnawing at him, his jaw tight. “I… I don’t know what you did. But… thank you.” The words came rough, grudging, yet genuine.

“Call a servant,” Lord Miller barked, his composure snapping back into command. “Change her into fresh clothes. Keep her warm. She must be watched at all times.”

“Yes, my lord.” Martin bowed sharply and hurried out.

Then Lord Miller fixed his eyes on Alex again. “Please, follow me.”

Alex gave a single nod and rose, his expression unreadable.

They walked through the long hall until they reached a tall door at its end. Lord Miller pushed it open, revealing his private study

Shelves lined the walls, books and scrolls crowding every corner. The old man moved behind his desk but did not sit. His gaze never left Alex.

“I don’t know how my sworn brother came to know you,” he said slowly. “But I am grateful beyond words. You’ve given my granddaughter her life back.”

Alex’s answer came steady, unshaken. “I healed her because there was reason to. Dupont told me you had something I need. I keep my word. And I expect others to do the same.”

Lord Miller gave a faint smile, though his eyes carried the weight of decades. “I will keep my word.”

He turned, his steps slow but deliberate, and walked toward the far wall of the study. One weathered hand pressed against a hidden panel between the tall shelves.

With a muted click, gears shifted, and a section of wall slid open to reveal a narrow doorway cloaked in shadow.

Without hesitation, Lord Miller stepped inside. Alex followed.

The chamber beyond was small, stone walls cool to the touch, the air heavy with reverence. In the center stood a lone pedestal.

Resting upon it was a crystal bottle filled with golden liquid that shimmered like molten sunlight, casting soft ripples of light across the chamber.

Lord Miller approached with care, his voice low but steady. “This is what remains of the Fountain of Life. A relic whispered about in legends, said to heal any wound, restore any vitality.” His gaze shifted to Alex, sharp and unwavering.

 “I scoured the world for this—for her. It was to be my last hope if all else failed. Then my sworn brother spoke of you. And you came.”

He paused, his jaw tightening. “You didn’t just save her—you mastered something no healer I’ve ever known could dream of. This belongs to you.”

Alex stepped forward. His fingers brushed the smooth glass, cool and flawless beneath his touch. Awe stirred within him, but stronger than awe was need.

His sister’s life depended on this bottle. For years, he had chased every false lead, every broken promise. Now, for the first time, hope was real.

Lord Miller studied him in silence. To the old man, this was no loss—it was an investment. Perhaps the most decisive move he had made in years. If this young man became an ally, then the Miller family’s future would be carved in steel.

Alex slipped the bottle inside his coat and leveled his gaze at the elder. His voice carried no warmth, only truth.

“The poison in your granddaughter wasn’t ordinary. It was buried deep, designed to kill slowly. Someone with power wanted her dead. Be careful—even among those closest to you. And never tell anyone that I was the one who healed her.”

Lord Miller’s face hardened. His nod was firm, resolute. “Your warning will be heeded. And should you ever call on the Miller family, you will not be unanswered.”

Some time later, they left the Miller estate.

“Drop me near the east bridge,” Alex told the driver. His tone allowed no discussion. “I’ll go from there.”

For a while, the car was silent. Alex sat straight-backed, one hand resting on the inside of his jacket where the bottle pressed against him like a heartbeat. His mind raced, urgency clawing at him. He couldn’t afford to waste a second—his sister was waiting.

Cassandra finally broke the silence, her voice tentative. “Alex… back there, when you healed Jessica… I’ve never seen anything like it. How—”

“Some things are better left unspoken,” Alex cut her off, his tone sharp, his eyes fixed ahead.

Her fingers curled tight in her lap. She wanted to press, but his wall was impenetrable. Her grandfather had entrusted him to her, and now she understood why.

This man was far more dangerous—and more valuable—than she had ever imagined.

Then Alex’s eyes flicked to the side mirror. His pupils narrowed. Two black cars had been shadowing them for miles, their movements precise, deliberate.

“Driver,” Alex said evenly. “Maintain speed. Do not panic.”

The man stiffened, knuckles tightening on the wheel. “Yes, sir.”

Cassandra’s brows knit. “What is it?”

Alex’s gaze sharpened, cold steel in his eyes. “We’re being followed.”