A few minutes after Shadow Ford limped away to fulfill her orders, Old Paul returned to the drawing room. He walked with a solemn, reverent gait, cradling an exquisite wooden box made of dark rosewood with both hands as if he were carrying a holy relic.
"Chairman, the centennial wild ginseng is here," the butler announced, bowing slightly as he presented it to Dragon Hood.
Dragon Hood gestured toward Frank. "Give it to Miracle Doctor Yates."
Frank took the box. It was heavy, the wood smooth and cool to the touch. He flipped the brass latch. As the lid opened, a potent, earthy aroma wafted out instantly, filling the room—a scent so rich and complex it seemed to carry the weight of history itself. To Frank’s Spirit Eyes, the root nestled on the red velvet lining didn't just look like a gn
