All Chapters of The Phoenix Bride Rises: Trust Was Her First Mistake : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Master Ye’s words were like a stone cast into still water, except this stone was jagged and burning. The ripples were not quiet, they were thunderous waves. Within hours, Twi-Talk was ablaze. Netizens across countries latched onto his direct challenge. “Bring a patient! Let us see who truly heals and who only hides behind certificates and politics!”The boldness stunned many. Those who once dismissed Arla-Rosa now began questioning why an esteemed grandmaster of medicine, silent for decades, would raise his voice so fiercely for her. Some were curious. Others were enraged, on her behalf.“If she really revived four veterans who were abandoned by the military hospital, what right does IMSAEB have to suppress her?” “Western medicine didn’t want them, but a nineteen-year-old brought them back to life? That’s a miracle or pure genius!” “Director Caldrick, are you afraid?”Clips of Amelia Grace’s humiliating treatment resurfaced, stitched side by

The Fleming House of Hope had never seen such attention. Cameras lingered not because the hospital sought publicity, but because Arla-Rosa Hernandez had become, overnight, the symbol of medical genius the world could not ignore. Every floor, every hallway, every glass-panelled corridor reflected the quiet hum of controlled chaos, technicians, nurses, and Duke Cedric Fleming’s private staff working in silent synchrony, respecting the woman at the center of it all.Arla-Rosa, 25, mother of twins, wife to the Duke, walked through the private ward as though she were moving through her own home. Cassian and Celeste’s toys had been cleared, their small footsteps now trailing behind her nanny’s careful watch. She carried nothing but her focus, her hands as calm as ever, a presence that seemed to bend the air itself into order.Master Ye followed at a measured distance, his eyes sharp, and his hands clasped behind him. His calm contrasted with the storm of global scrutiny Arla-Rosa had alrea

News of the second surgery, the near-impossible case that had left even the most seasoned surgeons speechless, spread across every corner of the globe within hours. The livestream, still circulating through social media, had captured Arla-Rosa’s calm authority, the hybrid precision of her Eastern and Western methods, and the successful stabilization of a patient who, by all accounts, should not have survived.Comments, reposts, and debates exploded online. Even casual observers were riveted. “This is unreal. The girl just operated in ways modern medicine didn’t think possible!” “IMSAEB director Caldrick looks like a fool right now. Again.” “A 25-year-old mother of twins is showing the world that real mastery doesn’t need validation from bureaucrats.”In Geneva, Reginald Caldrick sat frozen in his office. His smug anticipation from the first broadcast had collapsed into helpless fury. Every press release he had issued to downplay Arla-Rosa’s accomplishments now read like a confession o

The senior anaesthetist whispered what everyone else was thinking. “Those patients should have died on the table. Anyone else would have lost them.” But the murmurs were drowned by the blinking red lights of the cameras still rolling. They had been meant to switch off after the first operation. Instead, they captured every bead of sweat on Arla-Rosa’s brow, every word of doubt she had uttered, and every miracle that followed. The world had seen it all. In Geneva, Caldrick leaned back in his leather chair, fingers tightening around the glass of scotch he had not touched. He had called the broadcast team himself, moments before the second emergency case rolled in, instructing them in his silken voice. “Do not cut the feed. Keep it live. This will break her.” And for a time, it looked as if he had been right. The patient had been a mangled wreck of humanity, his lungs shredded, his spine twisted, his heart clinging to life by threads no surgeon dared touch. Even the most decorated spe

The International Symposium on Advanced Eastern and Western Medicine buzzed like a hive. Reporters, doctors, scholars, and dignitaries from every continent filled the grand hall in Geneva. Massive screens broadcasted the proceedings live, carrying every word and breath to millions around the globe.At the center table, Arla-Rosa Hernandez sat calmly in her white coat, her dark eyes focused, her presence serene yet impossible to ignore. Beside her, Duke Cedric Fleming exuded quiet strength, his arm occasionally brushing hers, a silent shield and anchor.Across the stage, Reginald Caldrick adjusted his tie, the gleam in his eyes betraying triumph. The cameras caught the smug curve of his lips as he leaned into the microphone.“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished colleagues, and curious onlookers,” he began, his tone measured but filled with unconcealed disdain, “we have gathered here to evaluate the so-called prodigy of medicine. Dr. Arla-Rosa has had her successes, but medicine is not