Chapter 140

Jenny dialed the number on the paper, but the call went unanswered. Worry gnawed at her; her hand trembled, tears welling in her eyes. Turning to Matthew, she began, “No one’s answering… could it be…” She dissolved into tears before finishing.

Matthew, distressed, patted her back soothingly. “He wants the Medieval Medicine. He won’t do anything drastic until he gets it. Let’s wait a little longer and keep trying.” He spoke rationally, but his heart pounded. His extensive life experiences, including time in prison, had exposed him to countless stories of murder—some born of anger, jealousy, or financial desperation, others from betrayal. All were driven by emotion. But this person… extracting organs from children to sell for medical literature? The cruelty chilled him to the bone. Was this even human? He felt he was facing a demon, unsure of what depravity lay ahead.

Jenny, though distraught, couldn't wait. She dialed again; the phone rang unanswered. She felt on the verge of collapse, tears streaming down her face and soaking her clothes. On her third attempt, she connected.

Noah’s devilish grin filled the video call. “What’s wrong? Afraid because no one answered?” he laughed. “If you don’t hand over the Medieval Medicine, you may never reach me again.”

Matthew’s clenched fist relaxed. He, too, had suffered the agony of waiting. Stepping to the phone, he waved the medical text. “Here’s the literature. Let him go, and I’ll give it to you.”

The man’s eyes lit up as he scrutinized the book. “I need to be sure it’s genuine. Send it over. If it is, you get the child. If it’s fake, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

Matthew had been waiting for that. “Where?”

The man paused, then said, “Wait at the bridge in the eastern suburbs. Don’t do anything unnecessary, or you’ll deeply regret it.” With that, he hung up.

Matthew packed the forged copy and instructed Jenny, “Find a discreet, hidden location. Get a new phone number and send it to me. Don’t contact anyone. I don’t want to rescue your brother only to have you disappear.”

Jenny hesitated. “What about the clinic?”

“The clinic will still be there.”

“Okay,” Jenny replied, quickly gathering her things and leaving.

Matthew drove to the bridge, patiently watching the traffic flow. Soon, a black car pulled up. The passenger window rolled down, and a voice yelled, “Hand over the Medieval Medicine!”

Matthew, cold-faced, replied, “Hand over the child, and I’ll hand over the book. I won’t give it to you unless I see him first.”

The man stared with sinister eyes. “Since you insist, get in.”

Clutching the book, Matthew entered the back seat. The man produced a blue towel. “Cover your eyes; otherwise, I can’t take you there.” Matthew took a deep breath and blindfolded himself.