The man’s face fell. How could Jenny fail to understand such a simple matter? He cleared his throat. Fixing his gaze on the table, he muttered, “My wife wants to have sex with me, but I can’t get in the mood.”

Jenny flushed. She had studied modern medicine in school and learned traditional medicine from Walter, but she was still caught off guard. She was a woman, after all. Regaining her composure, she said, “Let me take your pulse.”

The man propped his hand on the table and stared at her. Placing her fingers on his wrist, Jenny carefully took his pulse. Her brows furrowed with time. She finally stopped and stated, “You’re not ill at all.”

The man chuckled. “You’re remarkable for being able to tell that. I’m not ill; I’m asking for a friend.”

Jenny shook her head. “I can’t prescribe medicine without knowing the patient’s condition.”

“My friend said he’s taking a fertility medicine called Seedsaver Potion to rejuvenate himself. He took this medicine in the past and it seems to work. Could you prepare two doses for me to take back to him?”

“Oh,” Jenny exclaimed. “In that case, I’ll prepare two doses of the medicine for you.”

As she spoke, she wrote down the prescription and went to fetch the medicine herself. The clinic wasn’t officially open yet, so she had to play the roles of doctor and pharmacist.

The man spotted her prescription and suddenly stopped her. “You know how to prescribe the Seedsaver Potion. That means you must have Medieval Medicine in your possession.”

Jenny’s expression turned ashen. She was dominated by fear, feeling as if she were being pulled back into a quicksand after struggling to free herself. Her body went numb. As she was on the verge of collapsing, the prescription in her hand dropped to the ground and twirled toward the man. He bent down and swiftly grabbed it.

Staring at Jenny with an amused expression, he drawled, “Six ounces of wolfberry, eight ounces of dodder seed, four ounces of raspberry, two ounces of Plantago seed, and two ounces of Schisandra. The formula is exactly the same as the one from Medieval Medicine.”

Leaning against the table to steady herself, Jenny said grimly, “I don’t know who you are or who you represent. Again, I don’t have Medieval Medicine. I learned about this prescription in school.”

The smile vanished from the man’s face. His eyes grew feral as he snarled, “This prescription doesn’t even exist in the entire medical industry, let alone in schools. Only Medieval Medicine has it. Jenny, do you think you can keep Medieval Medicine just because someone helped you? Have you forgotten how your grandfather and parents died?”

“No one can save you in this world. If you don’t hand over Medieval Medicine soon, it might be your younger brother’s turn to die.”

Jenny’s legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground. Utterly overwhelmed, she cried, “What on earth do you want? I really don’t have that damned book! I can’t give it to you even if you force me to death. Please don’t harm my brother—kill me instead!”

The man grinned. His tone resembled a devil’s as he barked, “You would have been dead if you didn’t know where Medieval Medicine was.”

Jenny was at her wit’s end. She had never seen the Medieval Medicine text; Walter taught her everything she knew verbally.

Taking a pen from the pen holder on her desk, the man flipped over the prescription paper and scrawled a number on it. “This is my number. Call me if you want to meet your brother. You only have one day to hand over Medieval Medicine. If you fail to do so, I’ll livestream the extraction of your brother’s kidneys!”

He grabbed the paper, crumpled it, and hurled it at Jenny’s face. Petrified, she shut her eyes and screamed. The man was already walking toward the door when she opened her eyes again.