"What are you talking about?" Adrian was confused. Dr. Martinez had been the one performing the treatment—how could any of this be the fault of that random kid?
Now that he had found a scapegoat, Dr. Martinez's panic subsided. He adopted a serious, professional tone as he explained, "Mr. Lewis, you know better than anyone—I absolutely cannot be disturbed while treating someone."
"needle therapy relies on the flow of qi. If that flow is interrupted, it can cause blockages and complications."
"When I was inserting the needle earlier, that young man's voice broke my concentration. I thought it was a minor distraction and continued anyway, but clearly, it had an effect. The needle didn't work as it should have."
Dr. Martinez had lived over sixty years. He was well-practiced in shifting blame without breaking a sweat, and his explanation came off smooth and convincing.
Adrian was skeptical. As a martial artist himself, he understood how qi worked, and he knew that interruptions could have some impact—but enough to bring someone to the brink of death? That seemed like a stretch.
Still, with his father's face turning purple and his breathing growing faint, Adrian didn't have time to argue.
"Dr. Martinez," he said urgently, "what do we do now? My father—how do we save him?"
Blame could wait. Right now, Arlo needed help.
Dr. Martinez looked visibly uncomfortable. "Mr. Lewis, I truly didn't expect things to turn out like this. Your father's condition is critical. I'll do my best to stabilize him, but I can't promise anything. If you want me to continue, I will—but you should prepare yourself. This could go either way."
"Of course," he added, "if you know someone with more advanced skills, you're welcome to call them instead."
In other words of his, 'I'm not guaranteeing results, and if you keep me on, I'm not taking the blame if he dies.'
It was a strategic move—clever and self-protective.
Adrian's expression darkened. He knew full well they didn't have time to look for someone else. His father might not last another hour. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to stay calm.
"I'll trust you, Dr. Martinez. Please—do everything you can."
Dr. Martinez nodded solemnly and returned to the bedside to continue the treatment. Outwardly, he looked composed. Inwardly, he had already washed his hands of responsibility. He'd warned them. If things went south now, it wasn't on him.
Watching from the side, Adrian's jaw tightened. His father hadn't been in good shape before, but at least he was still conscious. Now, after treatment, he was on the edge of death.
The more he thought about it, the angrier Adrian became. Dr. Martinez's explanation replayed in his mind—and slowly, he began to turn that frustration toward Hudson.
After all, Dr. Martinez had an established reputation. He'd healed many tough cases over the years. That wasn't just rumor; it was documented. If Adrian hadn't trusted him, he wouldn't have paid such a high price to bring him here.
And yet, the only time something went wrong was right after Hudson interrupted. Coincidence? Maybe. But right now, Adrian needed someone to blame.
Fuming, he stormed out into the courtyard.
Outside, Ivory and Hudson were chatting when they heard heavy footsteps. Ivory turned and immediately called out, "Uncle! How's Grandpa?!"
Adrian snapped. "How is he? You've got the nerve to ask me that?"
He glared straight at Hudson, eyes full of rage.
Sensing the tension, Ivory quickly stepped between them, alarmed. "Uncle, what's going on? What happened?"
Adrian scoffed bitterly. "It's him! Your grandfather's condition is critical—and it's all his fault! Dr. Martinez said it himself—this kid interrupted at a critical moment and disrupted the flow. That's what caused the complication!"
He stepped closer, fists clenched, each step brimming with fury.
His knuckles popped from how tightly he was squeezing his hands.
"That's complete bullshit!"
Hudson, usually calm, couldn't hold back anymore. His voice was sharp with anger.
If your medical skills aren't good enough, just admit it. Blaming your failure on someone else? Hudson couldn't believe this man was ever called a "medical saint."
Watching Adrian square up, Hudson calmly pushed Ivory behind him and asked coolly, "What, you plan to come at me now?"
"It's all because of you! My dad's life is hanging by a thread," Adrian snapped. "I don't care what your relationship is with Ivory—if your words put him at risk, you're going to pay the price!"
As soon as he finished, Adrian lunged forward and threw a punch straight at Hudson's face.
"Uncle, stop!" Ivory cried out, trying to intervene—but Hudson gently shoved her out of the way, sending her a few feet back.
She wasn't worried that Hudson would get hurt. She was worried his impression of the Lewis family would worsen.
It all happened in a flash.
When suddenly, the sound rang out like a muffled drumbeat. Adrian's expression froze. His eyes widened in disbelief.
He hadn't gone all out, but as someone in the mid-stage of dark energy cultivation, he was confident that punch had enough power to take down any ordinary guy—especially a young one like Hudson.
But just before the punch connected, Hudson caught it with one hand, stopping it effortlessly.
It was like hitting the air.
Hudson hadn't flinched. He hadn't even braced himself. He just raised his hand and blocked it like swatting away a breeze.
Adrian had never seen anything like it.
"You're too weak," Hudson said calmly.
With a light push, Hudson sent Adrian stumbling back five full steps before he caught his footing.
When he looked up again, his entire demeanor had changed. The way he looked at Hudson was no longer hostile—it was stunned, even fearful.
He's stronger than me… he thought.
Adrian felt a chill run through his body. If he hadn't experienced it firsthand, he never would've believed someone Hudson's age could be so terrifyingly powerful.
"And another thing," Hudson snapped. "What kind of garbage excuse is that from your so-called 'medical saint'? If the guy's incompetent, just say it. Don't blame me for his failure. I literally told you earlier that his needle therapy would kill someone. Did you listen? No."
Hudson was clearly frustrated. He hadn't wanted to get involved, but now he had to speak up.
Those words hit Adrian like a slap. Reality finally clicked into place.
This wasn't just some arrogant kid. This was someone who had seen through everything from the beginning—someone who knew Dr. Martinez was bluffing, whose warning had been dismissed.
It suddenly made sense why his father had specifically asked Hudson for input before the treatment started. His father had sensed his strength and trusted his instincts.
Adrian realized the truth far too late.
The tragedy wasn't because of Hudson's interruption.
It was because Adrian had placed blind faith in Dr. Martinez and underestimated the one person who actually understood what was happening.
And now, Dr. Martinez had already said he wouldn't be held accountable if the treatment failed.
The implication was clear: he was covering his tracks. Preparing for Arlo to die.
Adrian's heart sank.
"Shit!" he gasped.
Without another word, he spun around and sprinted back into the house.