The next morning, Neo York's streets were slick with rain from the previous night, reflecting the neon signs of cafés, clinics, and towering apartment blocks. John Tan barely slept. His mind replayed the events of the night—the mysterious book, the boy he had healed, and the ominous figure in black. Yet one thought dominated: If what I read in this book is real… I can change lives. I can change mine.
At the clinic, the usual chaos awaited. Nurses rushed patients through narrow hallways, the smell of antiseptic mixing with the faint scent of rain seeping through the cracked windows. John's morning began with minor injuries and colds, but before long, a more urgent case arrived.
A black limousine screeched to a halt outside. Paramedics rushed out a young girl, her face pale, her breaths shallow. The girl's father, a distinguished businessman with sharp eyes, followed closely. "Do everything you can! She's… she's all we have!" His voice was tense, bordering on desperation.
John stepped forward instinctively. He recognized the symptoms immediately: poisoning. But not ordinary food poisoning—the toxins were fast-acting, precise, and deadly. Conventional methods wouldn't be enough. He glanced at the book in his bag, feeling the familiar warmth of knowledge coursing through him.
"Step aside," he instructed calmly. "I'll try something… unconventional."
The paramedics hesitated, but the father nodded desperately. Time was ticking.
John opened the book, flipping to the section marked with a crimson ribbon. The text detailed a multi-step procedure: activating acupressure points to stimulate internal detoxification, preparing a precise herbal concoction, and timing every step down to seconds.
He worked quickly, yet carefully. His hands moved with precision, following the sequences exactly as described. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping into his eyes, but he didn't pause. The girl's shallow breaths were like a countdown.
"Almost… almost there," he muttered under his breath. He adjusted the herbal dosage, applied pressure to specific points along her wrist and temples, and whispered the ancient incantation-like instructions that seemed necessary to complete the procedure.
Minutes passed like hours. Then, slowly, her breathing stabilized. Her color returned, faint pink blooming in her cheeks. She coughed weakly but was alive.
The father's eyes widened. "She… she's breathing!" His voice broke, and he sank to his knees. "Who… who are you?"
John swallowed, his heart pounding. "Just… a doctor," he said quietly.
But the nurses and paramedics whispered among themselves. One of them muttered, "That… was impossible. He didn't even use standard antidotes. How…?"
Word spread through the hospital like wildfire. By noon, John's name was murmured in hushed tones—the boy who healed beyond reason.
Yet as he tried to leave the hospital, a shadow detached itself from the corner of the hallway. The man in black from the previous night stepped forward, his eyes scanning John with a mixture of scrutiny and approval.
"You've taken your first step," the man said. "Healing a common injury is one thing. Healing a life threatened by death itself… that takes more than talent. It takes courage. And cunning."
John frowned. "Who are you? Why are you following me?"
The man smiled faintly, not a friendly smile, but one that carried authority. "I'm here to guide you. But also to warn you. Neo York is crawling with people who want what you now possess. Power like this doesn't go unnoticed."
John's mind reeled. Enemies? Power? I just… I just healed someone. Why would that make me a target?
The man handed him a small, black envelope. "Inside is information about a case that will test you even more. Solve it, and you prove you're worthy of the legacy. Fail… and you risk your life."
John's hands shook slightly as he accepted the envelope. His pulse raced, but beneath the fear, a spark of excitement flared. For the first time in years, he felt alive—truly alive.
Cliffhanger: The envelope contained a photograph of a young woman, her lips pale, eyes half-closed, with the words scrawled beneath: "She has six hours. Only you can save her."
John looked out the window at the rain-soaked city below. The streets seemed darker, more dangerous than ever before. And yet, he felt an irresistible pull forward. This is it. This is the beginning.