“Now is not the time for jokes,” Hera stated flatly. She wasn't in the mood for levity with Nash. Nash possessed some medical skills, she knew, but her grandfather's advanced stomach cancer was beyond the reach of current medical technology.
Twenty minutes later, Hera's car pulled into the city hospital parking lot. Nash let out a relieved sigh; the tension had been even more exhilarating than his tank-driving escapade with international mercenaries five years prior. At the hospital entrance, they found someone pacing anxiously. Hera rushed forward. "Dad, Grandpa, he…"
Her father's eyes were red, his voice hoarse. "It's not looking good. He probably won't make it through the night!"
Approaching, Harrison explained, "The old man keeps calling your name, as if he has something to tell you." Nash had already heard this from Hera; he suspected Herman wished to reveal something about his origins.
They reached a ward in the oncology department. Herman, wearing an oxygen mask, lay in bed; his heart rate monitor traced a sluggish rhythm, the scent of death heavy in the air. He seemed twenty years older than yesterday.
Nash frowned. Something was wrong. How could his condition deteriorate so drastically overnight? A flash of insight illuminated his mind. He saw through the old man's body: the malignant tumor had ruptured, filling his chest cavity. This was far more severe than yesterday's assessment. Even with metastasis, this level of progression was impossible in such a short time.
Nash's eyes narrowed. A mission from five years ago resurfaced in his memory: his master had dispatched him to Dallard to assist mercenaries in raiding a biochemistry lab and rescuing a fellow countryman used as a test subject. The lab had a biochemical agent capable of accelerating cellular growth. The rapid spread of cancer cells in Herman indicated someone had injected him with this forbidden substance.
Hera, red-eyed, held her grandfather's hand, tears welling. Harrison leaned close and whispered, "Dad… Nash is here!"
Herman's eyelashes fluttered, his vacant eyes slowly opening. He mouthed words, but no sound emerged. Harrison strained to hear, but in vain.
Hubert arrived, accompanied by a plump woman. "Dad… how are you?" he sobbed, his distress evident. The woman feigned tears. "Dad… you can't die… This family can't be without you!" Hubert sighed, "I can't understand what Dad's trying to say!"
"Dr. Tanner, please come in!" An attendant ushered in an elderly man in traditional clothing, carrying a wooden box. Lauren's face brightened at the sight of Dr. Brian Tanner, Jonford's foremost physician and a renowned traditional medicine practitioner, known for his extraordinary healing abilities.
Brian, a septuagenarian with silver hair, ruddy complexion, and sharp eyes, looked at Lauren and Mr. Dean. "Were you two discussing the same patient?" Lauren realized Mr. Dean had also summoned Dr. Tanner. Mr. Dean was equally surprised.
"Dr. Tanner, it's urgent! Please examine my father!" Lauren pleaded.
Brian checked Herman's eyelids and pulse, his brow furrowing. The family watched, hearts suspended. Nash felt a sense of familiarity with Brian, though he couldn't place it. His years of travel had brought him into contact with countless people.
"Sigh… prepare for funeral arrangements," Brian sighed, diagnosing terminal cancer. He added, "Besides my master's master, no one can cure this."
Hera wept uncontrollably in her mother's arms. Hubert and his wife knelt, tears streaming.
"All of you, leave. I'll treat him," Nash interrupted the outpouring of grief.
Hera trembled. Was he claiming to cure this incurable disease, and in front of Dr. Tanner? Was this not blatant disrespect?
All eyes turned to Nash. Hubert sneered, "Nash, do you even know who Dr. Tanner is?"
"Does it matter who he is to my treatment of Mr. Lewis?" Nash walked to the bedside, positioning himself in front of the kneeling Hubert. Hubert's face darkened. "You ignorant fool! Even Dr. Tanner is powerless. How dare you be so arrogant?"
Brian glanced casually at Nash. "Let him try. Perhaps he's a hidden master." He privately doubted this young man could treat the patient's widespread cancer, save for his master's master, a legendary figure.
Mr. Dean frowned. "Who is this young man?"
Harrison, flustered, introduced him, "He… He's my son-in-law, Nash."
"Does he study medicine?" Mr. Dean asked.
Harrison mumbled, "I don't know."
"Nonsense!" Mr. Dean scoffed. "Leave! You're not welcome here!"
Nash ignored him, pulling out a cloth bag containing rows of snake-shaped needles. The moment Brian saw them, he recoiled, as if struck by lightning. The 24 needles were identical to his grandmaster's Divine Needles.
"Arrogant fool! Linda, call security!" Mr. Dean fumed.
Brian stopped the nurse. If this man possessed the Divine Needles, he could be his grandmaster's descendant. A cold sweat drenched him. "Let… let him try…"