The Almighty Doctor

Chapter 4 Caught in the Act

This energy was true qi—a power only those who walked the Martial Dao could wield.

Earlier, when Eldric was injured, his blood had dripped onto the jade pendant he always carried. The stone flared to life, awakening the ancient legacy sealed within.

The inheritance contained unrivaled healing arts and profound cultivation methods, along with a single purified wisp of qi left by Eldric's father.

This gift was meant to anchor Eldric's first steps on the path of cultivation and steady his foundation.

Eldric's father had been extraordinarily powerful. Though just a trace remained, this refined energy pulsed with staggering potency.

Not only did it mend Eldric's wounds, but it forged him into a true cultivator. Now a vortex of qi churned in his dantian—containing the last fading embers of that precious gift.

And now, as Eldric treated Lirael's agony, it was this very energy he channeled.

Time blurred as the treatment continued.

Eldric's palm remained pressed against Lirael's stomach. New to his legacy, this was his first healing. His entire being honed into the task, leaving no room for distractions.

Lirael, however, felt a strange warmth blooming in her chest.

When the stomach cramps had struck, the pain left no space for thoughts. But now, under Eldric's care, the agony had melted into soothing warmth—like sinking into a warm bath.

This treatment? It felt like pure indulgence.

That gentle current flowing through her was bliss. Yet remembering Eldric's hand on her bare skin made her cheeks burn. Never before had a man touched her this way—no wonder her pulse raced.

Just a little longer—almost there. Then—smash!—the door exploded inward.

Lirael's assistant, Nechemya, charged in frantic, a squad of medics on his heels. They'd come expecting crisis, ready to save her.

But when they burst in and saw Eldric pressing one hand against Lirael's abdomen, the entire group froze in stunned silence. Their minds went blank, completely baffled by the unexpected scene before them.

Nechemya was the first to react. Glaring fiercely at Eldric, he snapped, "What do you think you're doing? Get your hands off our young mistress right now!"

"You ungrateful punk," he continued, his voice thick with anger. "After Ms. Veyra saved your life, you dare take liberties? Have you lost your mind?"

Nechemya's face flushed with rage. He'd always disliked Eldric, and now he saw the perfect chance to make the young man pay.

Lirael's furious shout cut through the tension. "Nechemya! What nonsense are you saying? Eldric is treating my illness—it's nothing like what you're imagining!"

Even as she spoke, heat rose to Lirael's cheeks. Though Eldric truly was administering treatment, the method was highly unorthodox—the kind that practically invited misunderstanding.

Without observers earlier, she'd already felt self-conscious about the intimate contact. Now with an audience gasping at the scene, humiliation washed over her in waves.

Torn between fury and embarrassment, she redirected her frustration at her assistant. A public scolding might at least prove their innocence.

Nechemya's skeptical look mirrored the EMTs' disbelief. "With respect, Ms. Veyra," he ventured, "this doesn't exactly resemble medical treatment..."

Lirael's eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you questioning me?" Her voice dropped to a dangerously quiet tone. "If this isn't treatment, then enlighten us—what exactly do you think we're doing? The door was locked. If Eldric hadn't intervened, how would my gastritis have improved?"

Seeing her anger, Nechemya backtracked hastily. "My apologies, mistress! I spoke out of turn. Punish me as you see fit."

"Humph!" Lirael's glare could have frozen fire. "One more insinuation like that, and you can pack your things immediately."

"Understood! It won't happen again!" Nechemya bowed deeply, though resentment burned beneath his compliant facade.

The scolding left him fuming—not at Lirael, but at Eldric. This entire humiliation stemmed from that wretched physician's actions. As Eldric continued the treatment, unaware, Nechemya secretly swore to get even.

Eldric's hands never faltered in their healing motions, though he heard every word of the heated exchange. He couldn't help but notice the irony—saving a life while making an enemy.

The root of all this conflict lay in Eldric's unconventional treatment method—his hand resting on Lirael's abdomen was bound to raise suspicions.

Yet this was the most effective remedy for her severe gastritis. When the pain left Lirael doubled over in agony, Eldric couldn't stand idly by. He had to act.

Remarkably, it worked instantly. The moment his palm made contact, her pain faded almost completely.

But convincing others proved far more challenging. Truth be told, even Eldric understood their skepticism—had their positions been reversed, he too might doubt this unusual healing method.

When the medical team arrived, Eldric couldn't interrupt the treatment midway. Stopping now would undo all progress, leaving her condition untreated.

So he continued, enduring their suspicious gazes as his fingers channeled healing energy. The scrutiny made the situation unbearably awkward—the remaining treatment left him feeling on pins and needles, every muscle tense with discomfort.