"The princess is indeed poisoned."
Zion's voice carried clearly through the chamber.
For a moment, nobody reacted.
Then Aurelius scoffed, seizing on the diagnosis as though it proved something.
"Who doesn't know that?"
He forced a confident laugh.
Poisoning was the one conclusion he had managed to reach, and he clearly intended to cling to it.
But Zion wasn't finished.
"However," he continued calmly, "I've treated a patient with the same condition before. I know how to deal with it."
The atmosphere changed instantly.
The physicians stared at him.
Rolant's eyes widened.
"You've... encountered this before?"
Zion gave no elaborate explanation. He simply opened his medicine box.
The certainty in his expression made the room even quieter.
He reached inside and pulled out a slim pouch, carefully rolled and secured. When he unfolded it, a neat row of long, slender silver needles was revealed beneath the palace lanterns.
The physicians stared.
Then the first whispers broke out.
"Acupuncture?"
"That can't be..."
"Isn't that the lost medical technique of the Eastern Continent?"
Several Physicians moved closer, unable to hide their disbelief.
Acupuncture had once been one of the most celebrated medical techniques of the ancient Eastern Continent. But centuries of devastating plagues and prolonged wars had destroyed much of the civilization there, taking countless traditions and bodies of knowledge with it.
Acupuncture had eventually disappeared from the wider world.
There were still rumors that remnants of the technique survived somewhere among the islands surrounding the ruined Eastern Continent, but those places lay on the opposite side of the world. No one in the Imperial City had ever seen the technique with their own eyes.
Yet now, a fifteen-year-old physician was standing in front of them with an entire set of acupuncture needles.
One Physician picked up his glasses and stared more closely.
"The needles..."
Another swallowed.
"The shape and thickness match the descriptions in the ancient records."
"This can't be real."
Zion paid no attention to their reactions.
He selected a needle between his fingers.
His hand moved toward Vanessa.
The first needle entered an acupoint with precise control.
Then a second.
Then a third.
His movements were neither hurried nor hesitant. Each needle was placed with deliberate accuracy, his fingers steady throughout the process.
The room gradually fell silent.
Everyone was watching.
This was the Imperial Princess.
If anything went wrong, nobody present could escape the consequences.
Yet Zion showed no sign of uncertainty.
Rolant's gaze became increasingly focused as he followed every movement.
He had initially regarded Zion as an inexperienced young physician who had been driven by confidence and recklessness.
That judgment was beginning to change.
Whatever else could be said about the boy, his understanding of acupuncture was clearly extraordinary.
When the tenth needle was inserted, Vanessa remained completely still.
There was no scream.
No sudden movement.
Nothing.
Several Physicians exchanged stunned looks.
For three days, even the lightest touch had caused Vanessa unbearable pain. Yet she now lay quietly beneath the needles, her breathing gradually becoming less strained.
"How...?"
Someone whispered the question without realizing it.
Zion continued.
More needles were placed along Vanessa's upper body until silver points covered the carefully selected acupoints.
Then his fingers moved again.
The needles began to tremble.
At first, the movement was barely noticeable.
Then all of them started vibrating together.
A collective gasp escaped the physicians.
"The Twitching Technique!"
"That technique is real?"
"It's supposed to be lost!"
Several elderly physicians stared at the needles with trembling eyes.
They had spent decades practicing medicine and had only encountered descriptions of such techniques in ancient texts. To witness one of those techniques performed in front of them was almost overwhelming.
This wasn't simply an unfamiliar medical method.
They were watching knowledge that had vanished from their world being used again.
Aurelius's face had gone completely rigid.
His eyes moved from the trembling needles to Zion, then back again.
The smug expression he had worn earlier was nowhere to be found.
He remembered how confidently he had mocked the palace physicians.
He remembered calling Zion a child.
He remembered boasting about his own abilities.
Now, standing among physicians who were watching an ancient technique being revived before their eyes, Aurelius felt every one of those words returning to him.
His face burned.
He had humiliated himself without anyone's help.
The trembling continued for several moments before gradually subsiding.
Then the changes in Vanessa became visible.
The swelling around her body began to decrease.
Her breathing became steadier.
The faint sounds of pain that had escaped her earlier weakened until they disappeared altogether.
Rolant stared.
Hope, something he had almost stopped allowing himself to feel after three days of failure, slowly returned to his exhausted face.
'She can be saved.'
The thought struck him with almost overwhelming force.
He had genuinely believed they might lose the princess today.
Now the young physician who had been dismissed as a reckless child had given them a chance.
Zion reached into his medicine box and took out a sheet of paper.
He quickly wrote down several herbs and handed the prescription to Rolant.
"Mister, have these prepared."
Rolant accepted the paper with both hands.
"Yes. I'll have them prepared immediately."
Then he paused.
The word came out naturally.
"Physician."
Zion glanced at him.
Rolant didn't correct himself.
The respect in his voice was unmistakable.
"Boil three bowls down to one. Give Her Highness the medicine three times a day."
"You heard him!" Rolant immediately called to a nearby apprentice. "Go!"
The young apprentice hurried out with the prescription.
Not a single physician questioned Zion.
Only moments ago, his age had been the first thing they saw.
Now none of them cared.
Whatever status or reputation he possessed, his ability had already answered every doubt.
Genius physicians were rare.
But someone who could not only practice medicine at such a level but also restore a technique believed to have been lost for centuries was another matter entirely.
The physicians quietly committed his name to memory.
Zion.
***
For Vanessa, the world had become little more than pain.
For three days, agony had consumed almost every waking moment. Even breathing felt exhausting. Her body seemed to burn from within, while every movement sent another wave of pain through her skin.
Now, gradually, that torment began to recede.
The burning sensation weakened.
The sharp pain dulled.
Her body finally felt as though it had been released from a grip that had refused to let go.
Vanessa's eyelids trembled.
She had barely possessed the strength to remain conscious, but the sudden relief drew her back toward awareness.
With considerable effort, she opened her eyes.
Everything was blurred.
Through the haze of exhaustion and tears, she saw a pale figure standing nearby.
A young physician.
His features were softened by her failing vision, and the silver needles around her made the scene seem strangely unreal.
For one fleeting moment, Vanessa thought she was looking at a celestial maiden who had descended from the heavens to end her suffering.
Her lips moved.
She wanted to speak.
No sound came.
The effort alone exhausted what little strength remained in her.
Her eyelids slowly fell shut again, and she slipped back into sleep.
***
Once the final needle had been removed and Zion finished the treatment, the tension in the chamber finally began to ease.
One by one, the physicians released the breaths they had been holding.
Rolant immediately moved to Vanessa's bedside.
He placed two fingers against her wrist and carefully checked her pulse.
His expression changed.
The chaotic rhythm he had felt earlier was gone.
The pulse was steady.
Stronger.
Most importantly, it was no longer showing the signs of imminent collapse.
Rolant's shoulders finally relaxed.
The princess had survived.
He straightened and looked at Zion with an expression completely different from the one he had worn when the young physician first entered the hall.
"I don't know how I should address you, young Physician."
Zion gave him a slight nod.
"Junior Physician Zion, of Origin Medical Hall."
The word junior made Rolant's expression become complicated.
He had spent decades studying medicine.
He had held a respected position within the Imperial Palace.
Yet today, a fifteen-year-old physician had displayed medical knowledge that left him struggling to comprehend what he had witnessed.
Rolant felt a faint flush of embarrassment.
Still, there was no resentment in his eyes.
Only respect.
The other physicians felt the same.
They had witnessed something they would probably remember for the rest of their lives.
Zion.
The young physician who had revived the lost art of acupuncture.
Rolant suddenly remembered something.
"Wait."
His eyes widened slightly.
"Origin Medical Hall?"
Zion looked at him.
Rolant studied his face again.
"The medical hall that opened only a few days ago... The one everyone has been talking about. That's yours?"
Zion nodded.
"Yes. It opened recently."
The chamber fell strangely quiet.
Then several physicians exchanged awkward looks.
Origin Medical Hall.
They knew the name.
It was the new medical hall that had become something of a joke in the Imperial City because its physician was supposedly just a young boy with no reputation.
Some had assumed it was merely an inexperienced physician trying to establish himself.
Others had wondered whether some wealthy family was funding a young man's whim.
Yet that same young physician was standing before them after saving the Imperial Princess.
The embarrassment spread through the room.
Rolant suddenly laughed.
"A dragon was right in front of us, and we were too blind to recognize it."
Zion simply smiled.
His gaze shifted toward the far side of the chamber.
Aurelius was standing there.
Or rather, trying very hard to make himself inconspicuous.
Unfortunately for him, his size made that nearly impossible.
Zion looked directly at him.
"Physician Piggy."
Aurelius's face twitched.
Zion's voice remained pleasantly calm.
"Your wager. You prepared it, didn't you?"
Aurelius's expression collapsed.
One hundred thousand gold coins.
The number suddenly felt much heavier than it had when he accepted the wager.
That was practically everything he had.
And he had lost it.
All because his pride had refused to let him back down.
Rolant turned toward him.
"Aurelius, everyone here witnessed the wager. Surely you don't intend to go back on your word?"
The chamber became quiet again.
Every physician looked toward Aurelius.
He had nowhere to hide.
Aurelius stiffened.
Then he glanced toward the doorway.
Perhaps he could leave before anyone stopped him.
He took one step.
A physician was already standing in front of the entrance with his arms folded.
Aurelius stopped.
His face darkened.
"I didn't bring that much money with me today," he muttered.
Zion smiled.
"That's fine. You can send it later."
Aurelius's expression loosened slightly.
Then Zion continued.
"But the apology can begin now."
His gaze swept across the room.
"So many physicians are gathered here. It's actually convenient. You can apologize to everyone at once."
He paused.
"If you wait until later, you'll have to visit them one by one. That sounds exhausting."
A few physicians immediately covered their mouths.
Laughter threatened to break out again.
Aurelius felt as though the last thread holding his dignity together had finally snapped.
He couldn't leave.
He couldn't argue.
And he certainly couldn't deny the wager after an entire room had witnessed it.
His face turned dark with humiliation.
After several painful seconds, he finally forced the word out.
"Sorry."
Zion blinked.
He cupped a hand beside his ear.
"What was that? Your voice was so quiet. I don't think anyone heard you."
Aurelius's face twisted.
"Brat... don't push your luck."
Zion's smile widened slightly.
The wager had been settled.
But the apology was only beginning.