Chapter 238 Witness the Miracle!
"What?!" Finley lurched forward, his eyes glittering with disbelief. "Say that again!"
The nearby reporter, sensing a historic moment unfolding before their eyes, instinctively thrust the microphone towards James.
"The patient," James repeated, his voice calm and steady despite the tumult swirling around him, "is not truly dead. He is experiencing a rare condition, a form of suspended animation. And I can cure him."
His words, amplified by the speakers, reverberated through the vast hall, triggering a cacophony of gasps, murmurs, and outright exclamations.
"Did he just say... bring the dead back to life? Is this a joke?"
"He's lost his mind! Dr. Worthington himself pronounced the man dead! Does he think he's some kind of miracle worker?"
"This is insane! He's just desperate for attention!"
But amidst the skepticism and derision, a flicker of hope ignited in some hearts.
"Wait a minute... didn't Dr. Smith warn Dr. Worthington about this very thing? Maybe he knows something we don't."
"He did demonstrate remarkable skill in the second round. Perhaps... perhaps he's the real deal."
"Could it be that... he's a medical genius? That he possesses knowledge beyond even Dr. Worthington's?"
After the crowd returned to silence.
The organizer, Finley, decided to take the chance. He stared at James, his expression a mixture of astonishment and apprehension. "Do you understand the gravity of your words, Dr. Smith?" he asked, his voice strained. "The patient is dead. How can you possibly save him?"
James, his posture radiating quiet confidence, met Finley's gaze head-on. "With my medical expertise," he stated simply.
"Preposterous!"
This time, the condemnation came from the ranks of traditional medicine practitioners. Dr. Murphy, his face creased with concern and indignation, rose from his seat, his voice trembling with emotion. "James, that is enough out of you! Stop this charade! You are bringing shame upon our ancient art! The patient is gone. No one, not even the gods themselves, can bring back the dead!"
One by one, the elder practitioners echoed Dr. Murphy's sentiments, their faces etched with a mixture of disappointment and fear. They had spent their lives upholding the fame of traditional medicine, fighting against skepticism and prejudice. And now, this young, reckless upstart was threatening to undo all their hard work with his outlandish claims.
James, caught between the scorn of his modern counterparts and the censure of his own peers, felt a profound sense of isolation. He had entered this conference hoping to bridge the divide between traditonal medicine and modern medicine, to demonstrate the efficacy of traditional medicine. Instead, he found himself waging a war on two fronts, battling not only the arrogance of modern medicine but also the entrenched conservatism of his own discipline.
He shared a look with Edwin, a silent acknowledgment of their shared struggle. Despite their age difference, their different approaches, they were united in their desire to see traditional medicine reclaim its rightful place in the world.
Nathaniel, his mind finally clearing from the shock of the patient's death, scoffed at James' claim.
'The audacity of the young man was astounding! Did he truly believe he possessed such divine power?'
The hall buzzed with a chaotic mix of disbelief, anger, and a sliver of desperate hope.
James, raising his voice above the din, addressed Finley. "You have declared the patient dead," he said, his tone firm yet respectful. "What harm is there in allowing me to try?"
Finley hesitated. Logic dictated that James' claim was absurd, a desperate attempt to salvage some dignity from this disaster. But the weight of the situation, the scrutiny of the crowd and the cameras, pressed down on him. What if, by some miracle, this young man succeeded?
"Very well," he said finally, his voice heavy with resignation. "You have ten minutes. But if there is no change in the patient's condition, you will cease your efforts immediately."
James nodded curtly. "Ten minutes will suffice."
Without further ado, he retrieved his acupuncture kit, his movements swift and precise. He knelt beside the patient, instructing two staff members to gently prop the lifeless body into a sitting position.
A hush fell over the hall as James, his expression focused and serene, began to work.
Thousands of eyes followed his every move, their skepticism battling with a primal yearning for the impossible.
James, oblivious to the scrutiny, poured all his concentration into the task at hand. He was racing against time, against the fading life force that clung precariously to the patient's body. He had to act quickly, decisively, before the veil between life and death became impenetrable.
"The Special Acupuncture Technique!"
A gasp, followed by a wave of excited murmurs, rippled through the section reserved for traditional medicine practitioners. Dr. Wheeler, his eyes wide with astonishment, leaned forward, his gaze glued to James' hands.
"It is! It's the legendary technique! I thought it was just a myth!"
"Incredible! To think that someone still possesses this lost knowledge!"
The excitement proved contagious, spreading to the audience. Whispers of "Special Acupuncture Technique" filled the air, tinged with awe and disbelief.
Edwin, a knowing smile gracing his lips, watched James with pride. The young man had surpassed all expectations.
The Western practitioners, their initial skepticism giving way to curiosity, watched James with a newfound respect.
'Could this young man, this practitioner of an ancient art they had dismissed as mere folklore, actually achieve the impossible?' they thought.
James, oblivious to the drama unfolding around him, continued his work, his fingers dancing over the patient's body, his needles finding their marks with pinpoint accuracy. Beads of sweat beaded on his forehead, a testament to the intensity of his focus, the sheer force of his will.
As the clock ticked down the final seconds, James, his eyes flashing open, gathered his energy and drove a final needle into the patient's ear.
"Wake up!" he commanded, his voice echoing with the force of his conviction.
And then, a collective gasp, a wave of disbelief, washed over the stunned audience.
The patient's eyes, moments ago vacant and lifeless, flickered open, their gaze bewildered and unfocused.
"What... what happened?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse and weak.
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