Giving It All

"What garbage are you spewing? You're not needed here. Get out!" Genevieve barked. Her chest heaved as she glared at Torin. She could not risk this arrogant young man interrupting Dr. Finch's delicate treatment. Her father's life hung by a thread, and every second wasted on useless banter pushed him closer to the grave.

Torin did not flinch at her hostility. A storm could not have brushed off her anger more smoothly. He turned on his heel and grabbed the brass handle of the heavy wooden door, pulling it open with a soft click.

"Fine," Torin said, his voice level and devoid of spite. "Since you are the one demanding I leave, I will oblige. I will wait out in the corridor."

He paused at the threshold, casting a cool glance back at the panicked heiress. A faint smirk played on his lips. "But remember this. In less than five minutes, you will be sprinting out there, begging me to come back inside and save you both."

Before Genevieve could hurl another insult, Torin stepped out. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the tension inside the private room.

With the distraction gone, Gregory let out a breath and focused his attention on the patient. The seasoned physician unrolled his leather pouch further, meticulously selecting the thinnest silver pins. His hands found their rhythm, inserting the needles into Robert's critical acupoints. One by one, the gleaming metal pierced the skin, tracing the meridian lines along the CEO's chest and arms.

Silence descended upon the room, broken only by Gregory's heavy breathing. Sweat beaded on the doctor's forehead, tracing tracks down his wrinkled cheeks. He performed the intricate routine with methodical precision.

As the final silver needle slid into its designated spot near the collarbone, a subtle shift occurred. Robert's eyelids fluttered. A soft groan escaped his lips, and he slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh overhead lights.

Genevieve threw her hands over her mouth. Tears spilled over her lashes. "Dad!" she cried, her voice cracking with jubilation. "You are awake! Dr. Finch, he is awake. This is wonderful!"

Gregory puffed out his chest, swiping the sweat from his brow. He heaved a massive sigh of relief. A smug smile graced his features. His medical prowess had triumphed once again. The immense pressure of treating Oakhaven's wealthiest man vanished, replaced by the sweet taste of victory.

That sweet solace was painfully short-lived.

Without warning, a choked gasp ripped from Robert's throat. His body jerked upward. He began to thrash on the seat, convulsions wracking his frail frame. The silver needles quivered. His face, just moments ago returning to a healthy pale, morphed into a horrifying, sickly shade of purple. Veins bulged against his neck. His mouth opened in a silent scream as excruciating pain tore through his chest.

Panic seized the confined room.

"Dad! Dad!" Genevieve shrieked. She lunged forward, hovering her hands over him, too terrified to touch him. She whipped her head toward the doctor. "Dr. Finch! Why is this happening? Fix it!"

Gregory stumbled backward, bumping into the coffee table. His former arrogance shattered. His face drained of color. "I... I do not know!" he stammered, his hands shaking wildly. "I have no idea why the treatment is backfiring! This makes no sense!"

He watched in pure horror as the violent shivering faded. Robert's back arched one last time before he slumped back, a dead weight. A chilling, breathless stillness settled over the older man. His chest stopped rising.

Gregory's heart hammered against his ribs. He had just killed the patriarch of the Mercer family. Desperate to shirk the immense responsibility, his mind scrambled for an exit strategy.

"Ms. Mercer!" Gregory blurted out, his voice shrill. "We need to rush him to the hospital right now! I am out of ideas. There are no medical options left here!"

Genevieve's rational mind snapped. The grief and terror mutated into a terrifying rage. She rounded on the cowering physician, her eyes blazing with murderous intent.

"Do you take me for a fool?" she exploded, her voice echoing off the walls. "Look at him! He will not survive the trip to the hospital! You better find a way to save my father right this instant. Because if he dies in this room, you will not survive the Mercer family's wrath unscathed. I will destroy you!"

Terrified of the unimaginable consequences, Gregory swallowed hard. The threat was not empty; the Mercers could erase him with a single phone call. His racing mind grasped at straws and landed on a convenient scapegoat.

"Wait!" Gregory stammered, pointing a shaking finger toward the door. "The young man! The one who just walked out! He warned me about this. He might actually possess a miraculous solution. We should get him!"

Genevieve froze. She saw right through the cowardly doctor. Gregory was incompetent and desperately trying to pass the blame. If Torin touched Robert and Robert still died, Gregory could claim the kid interfered. Yet, staring at her father's breathless form, she realized with dread that she had no other choice. Her pride meant nothing if her father died.

She dashed toward the door, yanking it open and sprinting into the brightly lit corridor.

Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she skidded to a halt. Just as he had promised, Torin sat casually on a plush hallway bench, his legs crossed, waiting.

Shame burned her cheeks. She purposefully averted her gaze, staring at the intricate patterns on the carpet. This was the exact man she had ruthlessly berated mere minutes ago. She bit her trembling lip, forcing her pride down her throat.

"P-Please," Genevieve stuttered, her voice a pathetic plea. "Please save my father. I beg of you."

Torin did not stand immediately. He leaned back, raising a single brow. His dark eyes bored into her hunched form. "Do you finally believe I can save your father?" he asked, his tone flat. "Do you now accept that I am not a con man?"

Genevieve stood in helpless, humiliated silence. She could not force the words of admission past her lips, but her desperation was written in every line of her trembling body.

Torin let out a low chuckle. The sound held no malice, only a dry amusement. He pushed himself off the bench and strode past her, walking back into the private room.

The moment Torin crossed the threshold, a sweat-drenched Gregory scrambled forward. Panic drove the renowned doctor to toss aside the last shreds of his dignity. He lowered his body, bowing his head in a frantic display of submission, eager to pass the fatal responsibility.

"I am sorry!" Gregory babbled, his hands clasped together. "I apologize for my arrogance earlier. I was wrong. Please, young man, save Mr. Mercer!"

Torin ignored the groveling physician. He stepped up to the chair and let out a heavy sigh. His keen eyes swept over Robert's lifeless, motionless form. The purple hue had deepened. The chaotic energy inside the man's meridians had gridlocked, suffocating his organs.

"Looks like I will have to give this treatment my all," Torin muttered to himself, slipping into a state of absolute focus.

He turned sharply to the trembling doctor. "Do you still possess any more silver needles?"

"Yes!" Gregory fumbled with his leather medical bag. His shaking fingers unzipped a side compartment, producing a sterile metal case. "Right here. Exactly thirty needles."

Torin glanced at the open case and shook his head firmly. "Not enough."

Gregory blinked, stunned out of his panic for a fraction of a second. "Not enough? How can it not be enough?" Every seasoned practitioner knew the limits of the human body and mind. Even the legendary miracle doctors leading the national association could barely manage to wield twenty needles simultaneously. Managing thirty was a myth.

"I need more," Torin reiterated, his voice leaving no room for debate.

"How many?" Gregory asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Torin's answer was immediate and unwavering. "Eighty-one."

Gregory staggered back, stupefied. Horror washed over his features. The number was impossible. It was a suicide mission for both the patient and the practitioner. Yet, faced with Torin's piercing glare, Gregory silently surrendered. He upended his medical bag, handing over his entire extensive needle supply.

Torin did not waste another second. He grabbed Robert by the shoulders and quickly laid the man flat on the hard floor, ensuring a stable, unyielding surface.

He dropped to his knees beside the patient. Taking a deep breath, Torin channeled his internal energy. The air around him seemed to hum.

His hands shot forward. Moving ambidextrously with a blinding, superhuman speed, Torin's fingers became a blur of motion. He struck dozens of acupoints across Robert's chest, arms, and skull. The silver needles sank into the flesh with flawless precision, mapping out a complex constellation of life-saving meridians.

The physical toll was instantaneous. Cold, heavy sweat broke out across Torin's forehead, soaking his hair. Moisture seeped through his shirt as he forcefully exerted an immense amount of his internal energy, pushing his own life force through the needles to restart the dying man's system. His muscles burned, his vision tunneling into the eighty-one exact points he needed to hit.

With a final, agonizing push of energy, Torin drove the eighty-first needle perfectly into its precise mark near the heart.

The moment his fingers released the metal, his posture crumbled. Torin dropped his exhausted body directly onto the cold floor, gasping for air. His chest heaved as he stared at the ceiling, every ounce of strength drained from his bones.

Genevieve stood near the wall, her hands clutching her dress. She watched the entire miraculous process in a state of nervous, profound silence. She dared not make a sound, fearing she might shatter whatever spell Torin had just cast.

Beside her, Gregory was practically gawking. His jaw hung unhinged in paralyzing astonishment. He stared at the eighty-one needles vibrating in perfect unison on Robert's body. The sheer impossibility of the technique broke everything he thought he knew about medicine.

A moment later, that profound shock morphed into an intense, overwhelming elation. Gregory's eyes widened, recognizing the legendary pattern.

With a loud, resounding thud, the renowned doctor suddenly dropped heavily to his knees directly before Torin. The forceful impact of bone hitting wood echoed through the quiet room, giving both the exhausted Torin and the anxious Genevieve a massive fright.