Felicia urged, "Just drive. Did you prepare everything I asked for? The herbs and silver needles?"

"Of course. Everything's ready," Maurice replied. Even on the plane, he'd issued the necessary orders. The herbs Felicia requested were rare and expensive, but a mere trifle to him. What surprised him was her urgency.

With a curious glint in his eye, he asked, "Ms. Fuller, you seem more eager to fix my legs than I am."

Felicia leaned back lazily. "I'm not a fan of Ablil. The sky's always so gray. The sooner your legs are healed, the sooner I can return to Khogend."

Maurice's eyes flickered with an unreadable expression before he remained silent. He signaled the driver.

The Bentley sped along narrow roads, finally arriving at a secluded mountain estate. As Felicia stepped out, she felt the temperature rise and caught a faint scent – the unmistakable aroma of natural hot baths, typical of the wealthy. Maurice's leg pain always worsened in the cold; hot baths were his only relief.

Felicia inspected the supplies; everything was in perfect order. "Your legs have been damaged by prolonged exposure to cold, damp energy, settling like poison. To heal you completely, we'll drive it out," she explained, holding up herbs. "Maurice, I'll prepare the medicine. Meet me by the hot bath in an hour for acupuncture."

"Fine," Maurice said, gesturing to two men. "Help her." Turning to leave, he murmured to a subordinate, "Keep a close eye on her."

"Yes, Mr. Glovers." The men understood. While Maurice relied on Felicia's skill, he wouldn't trust her completely. They were to ensure she didn't tamper with the medicine or the procedure.

Felicia sifted through the herbs, occasionally bringing them to her nose. The two men stood watchfully, feigning helpfulness.

"Ms. Fuller, let us help you," one offered obsequiously.

Felicia smirked. "You," she said, pointing to one, "set up the stove and build a strong fire." To the other, she instructed, "Bring the herbs I've selected to boil. Watch carefully – remove them from the heat once the water turns black."

While the men worked, Felicia reclined in a shaded pavilion, closing her eyes and swaying gently. They exchanged a glance, shrugged, and continued.

Soon, the bubbling of the herbs filled the air, their pungent aroma sharp and bitter. Forty-five minutes later, the liquid was dark. One man carefully removed the pot.

"Ms. Fuller, the medicine is ready."

"That was quick," Felicia murmured, rubbing her eyes. She stretched lazily, reluctant to move, but gave in when she saw the men's expectant faces. With a sigh, she sat up and began work.