"Alright, take me to Mr. Glovers," Felicia said, yawning and stretching languidly.

On the way to the hot baths, one of the men carrying a pot of pitch-black liquid hesitated. "Ms. Fuller," he asked, "uh… this isn't for drinking, is it?"

She smirked. "Nope, it's for soaking his feet." She began listing the ingredients. "Mr. Glovers' leg problems stem from cold invading his system. These herbs are excellent at driving out that cold. But honestly, there's no point in explaining it all—you wouldn't understand anyway. Just wait and see." The two men exchanged a glance. They knew little about medicine, but as long as the ominous-looking black water wasn't for drinking, they were content.

They soon arrived at the hot bath where Maurice waited, shrouded in rising steam. Felicia directed the men to pour the black liquid and boiled herbs into a smaller pool. Once ready, she gestured for Maurice to enter. As he slid into the steaming water, she produced her needle kit and positioned herself at the pool's edge. "Mr. Glovers, are you ready? I'm about to begin acupuncture. It might sting a little, so if it's too much, just say the word, and I'll stop."

Maurice, his upper body bare and back to Felicia, calmly replied amidst the steam, "Go ahead."

"Alright."

Felicia swiftly began inserting the needles, one by one, from his shoulders down his back. The process stung, but was bearable. He even asked, "What kind of acupuncture technique is this? My legs are the problem—shouldn't you be working on them?"

"That's where you're wrong," Felicia replied without looking up. "The body's meridians are all connected. Even though your legs are paralyzed, the toxins aren't isolated there."

As she spoke, more needles flew from her hands, precisely landing along his spine. The two men stood guard, watching Felicia intently, ready to intervene at the slightest suspicious movement.

Felicia worked methodically for half an hour, inserting and removing needles with practiced precision. Finally, she stepped back, gathering her tools. "We're done for today. We'll continue tomorrow." She glanced at Maurice. "Try moving your toes. You should feel some sensation by now."

Maurice didn't respond immediately. Soaking in the steaming water, his face remained impassive, obscured by the mist. But beneath the steam, his eyes revealed a mixture of shock and delight. He could feel his toes moving—small, almost imperceptible movements, but they were there.

This was the first time in years he'd felt any sensation in his legs. Felicia's methods were extraordinary. Maurice had consulted countless senior physicians, yet none had achieved such results. A herbal soak and a few dozen needles had accomplished what others could not.

This only solidified a thought in Maurice's mind: he couldn't let her go. If she wouldn't serve him willingly, he would ensure she couldn't help anyone else.

Raising his head, Maurice fixed his gaze on Felicia. A cold, calculated grin spread across his lips—the predatory smile of someone who had acquired their objective and was prepared to secure it by any means.

Seemingly oblivious, Felicia yawned again, stretching lazily. "Alright, I'm exhausted. Did you arrange a place for me to stay? I'm ready to crash." Maurice signaled to one of his men. "Take Ms. Fuller to the Bamboo Court. Make sure she's well taken care of."

"Yes, Mr. Maurice," the man replied, bowing respectfully before leading Felicia away.