Chapter 233 The Huge Gap
"Well said!"
Edwin, unable to contain his surge of emotion, erupted in applause.
As the leading figure in the traditional medicine community, he had witnessed the slow decline of traditional medicine with a heavy heart. He had tried, desperately, to stem the tide, to prevent this ancient art from fading into obscurity, but his efforts felt like mere drops in a vast ocean. Despite dedicating his life to traditional medicine, pouring every ounce of his being into its preservation, he couldn't deny the disheartening truth: under his watch, traditional medicine continued its downward spiral.
They were barely holding on as it was. He shuddered to think what would happen once his generation was gone.
'Who would carry the torch then?'
'Would traditional medicine simply vanish from the world?'
'Losing was one thing, but losing the will to fight and the belief in their strength was far more terrifying.'
Thought about these, his eyes showed a hint of resolution.
And yet, here stood James, a young man who embodied the very spirit they had lost. He radiated confidence, a fiery determination to fight for their art, and a belief in the power of traditional medicine that resonated deep within Edwin's soul.
His initial applause was solitary, echoing strangely in the silent hall.
But then, one by one, others joined in—a hesitant clap here, and then a more forceful one there—until the entire hall reverberated with the sound of hundreds of people applauding, their faces reflecting a mixture of surprise and newfound hope.
James's words, his unwavering conviction, had struck a chord. People respected those who fought for what they believed in and those who refused to back down, and James embodied that spirit.
The sudden wave of support for the traditional medicine side caught the modern practitioners off guard. Their smug smiles faltered, and their confident postures deflated slightly.
Nathaniel, his face a mask of displeasure, glared at James. "You think grandstanding will win you the competition?" he scoffed. "Don't make me laugh. You're in for a rude awakening."
His hatred for James intensified. This young man, with his talent and unwavering belief in a dying art, represented everything Nathaniel despised.
On the traditional medicine side, however, not everyone shared Edwin's enthusiasm. Many of the older practitioners remained skeptical, their faces etched with doubt and resignation.
"Foolish youth," one muttered, shaking his head. "He doesn't know when to hold his tongue."
"Dr. Wheeler should have known better than to bring him here," another grumbled.
"This is the death knell of traditional medicine," a particularly pessimistic voice declared.
"Our time has passed," another sighed, his shoulders slumping.
The air hung heavy with their defeatism. They had already accepted their fate, their fighting spirit extinguished.
James observed their reactions with a mixture of disappointment and determination. This defeatist attitude, this willingness to accept defeat before even stepping onto the battlefield, was the true disease plaguing traditional medicine.
He was a fighter, always had been. The more challenging the obstacle, the more determined he became to overcome it. It was this very spirit that had allowed him to master the intricacies of traditional medicine at such a young age.
Instead of engaging in a futile argument, James closed his eyes, focusing his mind. He reviewed his knowledge, preparing himself for the challenge ahead. He wouldn't waste his energy on those who had already surrendered.
With all the formalities out of the way, the final round commenced.
The organizers had pulled out all the stops. The audience wasn't limited to M City locals; people had traveled from neighboring cities, even other states, to witness this showdown between traditional and modern medicine.
For many patients, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to receive free treatment from some of the most renowned doctors in the region.
The first patient called was a woman named Nova Blackwood, her face etched with worry. She had been battling a persistent gynecological issue for years, and she had pinned her hopes on this event, specifically on seeing a modern doctor. Fate, however, had other plans. Her token was odd-numbered, sending her to the traditional medicine side.
"Just my luck," she muttered, her face souring.
Her words reached Dr. Prescott, the designated traditional medicine practitioner, who frowned. "What was that?" he asked, his tone sharp.
Nova, never one to back down, retorted. "I wasted thousands on traditional medicine treatments that did absolutely nothing! You people are nothing but charlatans! No wonder your precious medicine is dying."
Dr. Prescott's face flushed with anger.
Undeterred, Nova continued, her voice laced with impatience. "Just admit you can't help me and let me see a real doctor."
Her words stung, and Dr. Prescott had to clench his fists to keep from lashing out. He knew, however, that losing his temper would be disastrous.
Swallowing his anger, he attempted to maintain a professional demeanor as he checked her pulse and inquired about her symptoms.
Nova, however, was determined to make his life difficult. She peppered him with sarcastic remarks, her attitude bordering on hostile.
Defeated, Dr. Prescott eventually threw in the towel, allowing Nova to storm off to the modern side with a triumphant smirk.
Meanwhile, the modern side had scored their first point. Their patient, suffering from a simple cold, had been diagnosed and treated within minutes.
The competition continued. Patient after patient was seen, the scores on the board constantly fluctuating.
As expected, the modern side, with their superior numbers, quickly pulled ahead. Despite the traditional medicine practitioners' best efforts, they were fighting a losing battle.
An hour passed, and the score difference was staggering. The modern side had amassed over two hundred points, while the traditional medicine side lagged behind with a measly fifty.
Even James, despite his skill and efficiency, couldn't bridge the gap created by their sheer lack of manpower.
To make matters worse, the older traditional medicine practitioners were visibly tired. Their movements were sluggish, their faces etched with fatigue. At this rate, they wouldn't last another hour, let alone four.
James watched the unfolding disaster with a frown. This wasn't sustainable. They needed a different approach, a game-changer.
Suddenly, a sharp cry rang out from the modern side, drawing everyone's attention. A patient was convulsing on the floor, foam bubbling at his lips, his face contorted in agony. The young modern doctor who had been treating him looked on in horror.
James's eyes narrowed. This was their chance.