Chapter 3

The shadow behind the door yawned like a gaping beast. Donovan carried the unconscious Wanda, moving farther away until they disappeared into the moonlight.

"T-the idiot’s out of control! Quick, someone alert the head of the Smith family!"

To them, the Smith family was now in control of Frostvale Group, and they had become one of Jadewood City's most powerful and prestigious households.

Donovan was the once-promising heir of Frostvale Group and he had been struck dumb by a car accident. Now, he wasn't just an idiot.

He was insane!

With just a little effort, the Smith family could crush this mad and idiotic creature, like an ant beneath their heel.

Unbeknownst to them, Donovan was no longer the man he once was. Even if the head of the Smith family stood before him, he wouldn't need to blink. One snap of Donovan's fingers could end him.

He carried Wanda swiftly from the Smith family villa, heading to a dark underpass beneath a bridge where a group of homeless men huddled. Their clothes were filthy, hair matted, and the stench of grime and sweat clung to them.

A few tough-looking figures stood up warily, ready to chase off the intruder, thinking he'd come to claim territory.

What they didn't realize was that Donovan had come to bring them a gift.

Donovan tossed the still-unconscious Wanda like a piece of trash toward the group of hungry, desperate men.

As countless filthy hands reached for her, Wanda suddenly woke, panicking.

She screamed, but there was no escaping the grasp of the dozen or so homeless men surrounding her.

Through her tear-filled, desperate eyes, she caught a glimpse of the figure at the edge of the tunnel, about to leave.

"Donovan... darling... save me... please..."

Donovan's expression stayed cold and unmoving. The moonlight highlighted his harsh features, and his eyes showed nothing but icy indifference and deep-seated anger.

"This is just the interest portion."

The words were cold, final, and absolute.

He didn't look back, stepping resolutely into the darkness.

Behind him, the woman's screams and the men's wild shouts blended into a chaotic roar, eventually swallowed by the night.

He would take back what the Smith family had taken from him, hundreds of times over, thousands, even millions.

But for now, his priority was waking his mother.

Not long after, he arrived at the city hospital and entered a private room.

On the hospital bed lay the once-mighty, brilliant CEO of the Frostvale Group, now reduced to a gaunt, waxen face, deep-set eyes, and a frail, wasted frame. Three years as a comatose patient had drained every ounce of her vitality.

"Mom..."

He dropped to his knees. After a thousand years of navigating the deadly world of cultivation, commanding respect from countless clans, he still couldn't hold back his tears. Tears streamed down his handsome face as his eyes reddened at seeing his loved one again.

"Mom... I'm back! Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't take care of you! I've been an unworthy son, making you suffer. From now on, no one will harm you again!"

His mother had been in a coma for three long years, seemingly unaware of anything beyond her own body.

But at this moment, a single tear slid from the corner of her eye.

"Oh my... s-she's crying!"

A nurse standing behind Donovan's shoulder gasped. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the tear, then looked at him.

"Who are you?"

Donovan's own heart was racing, and he grasped his mother's hand without hesitation. He replied without turning around, "I'm her son."

The nurse's expression shifted to anger.

"Her son? Then why haven't you visited her once in three years? Is this how you treat your mother? Don't you understand that if you don't care for your parents while you can, it will be too late? You stay right here. I'll go get the doctor!"

The nurse didn't waste a second. She spun around and ran out of the room, calling for a doctor in a flustered voice.

Donovan didn't get angry at her scolding. Instead, he felt a small sense of relief. It showed she was genuinely caring for his mother.

He took out a small cloth pouch and gave it a gentle shake. A row of silver needles spilled out, neatly arranged.

He had bought these on the way here.

As the supreme Medicine Overlord, he had mastered medicine to the pinnacle of perfection. His knowledge of healing was unparalleled, a level so terrifying that few could ever comprehend.

Waking his mother from her vegetative state was nothing for him.

The only complication was that the terrifying cultivation power he had as the Medicine Overlord had not fully returned to his body. That meant he would have to rebuild his strength from scratch.

Even worse, the spiritual energy on Earth was far weaker than in the cultivation realm. For an ordinary practitioner, it would be nearly impossible to follow the path of cultivation here. But for him, there was a way.

For example, the first thing he had done after returning to his body was an intimate union with the incomparable beauty, Ruth. To his surprise, she had a Winterborn Physique. By drawing in the cold energy from her body, he could accelerate his cultivation.

He absorbed the cold energy to help him return to the path of cultivation. Though he was only at the first stage of Mana Refinement, it was more than enough for using his needles to heal others.

He pinched a silver needle between his fingers, a barely noticeable thread of energy shimmering along the tip, warming it. His gaze was sharp, locking onto the acupuncture points on his mother's body, ready to strike.

"Stop!"

A loud, explosive shout cut through the room.

The attending doctor, Carl Sawyer, stepped in front of the bed and grabbed Donovan's shoulders firmly.

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his face pale and filled with obvious contempt.

"You're the infamous Donovan? This patient's life is hanging by a thread. Even God can't save her. And you think a measly needle makes you some miracle healer? Get out of here!"

Then, he turned to the nurse. "Call security! Notify the Smith family immediately!"