Neo York's streets were slick with lingering rain, the city buzzing quietly with the muted sounds of late-night traffic. John Tan followed the coordinates on the humming compass-like device, winding through narrow alleys and stairways few people noticed. His heart pounded—not from exhaustion alone, but from anticipation. Where am I really going? And why does every instinct in my body tell me this is no ordinary task?
After what felt like hours of twisting through the labyrinthine streets, John arrived at an unassuming building tucked between two abandoned warehouses. Its metal door was scuffed and rusted, but a faint glow emanated from the small crack beneath it.
He hesitated, fingers tightening on the envelope still clutched in his hand. This could be a trap. Or… something else.
Summoning courage, he pushed the door open. The interior was unexpected. The room was vast, larger than any building's exterior suggested. Warm light bathed polished wooden floors and rows of meticulously arranged instruments—medical tools, herbs, and vials of unknown liquids. A faint scent of antiseptic mixed with herbs hung in the air, comforting yet strange.
Several figures were already present, practicing techniques that John had only read about in the mysterious book. They moved with precision, each motion seemingly effortless yet highly controlled. One woman adjusted a patient's posture with such skill that it seemed almost magical; another man applied pressure to specific acupoints, guiding a faint pulse in the patient's body.
A voice broke his awe. "Welcome, John Tan."
He turned to see the man in black from the alley, now without his hood. His gray eyes seemed to pierce through John's very thoughts. "This," he gestured to the room, "is the Society of the Supreme Healers. Each member has mastered a form of healing far beyond conventional medicine. And now… you have been chosen to join—or at least, to attempt to."
John's mind reeled. "Chosen? Why me? I'm… I'm not like them."
The man smiled faintly. "Talent finds its way, John. You have touched the forbidden arts, survived a trial most could not, and healed when others would have failed. That is why you are here. But this… is only the beginning."
John glanced around at the others. He noticed a mixture of curiosity, skepticism, and subtle wariness in their eyes. All of them sizing me up… already judging me.
"You must understand," the man continued, "joining the Society is not about comfort or recognition. It is about discipline, growth, and survival. You will face challenges that will test every part of you—body, mind, and soul. Some will come as allies, others as enemies. Some… will test you without revealing themselves."
A young woman stepped forward, her dark hair tied back, eyes sharp. "We heard about you already," she said. "The girl you saved… that wasn't an accident. Few healers can do what you just did. But can you handle what comes next?"
John swallowed. "I… I don't know yet. But I'll try."
The man in black nodded. "That is the only acceptable answer. Tonight, you will face the Trial of Pain—a test designed not only to measure your ability to heal, but to confront fear, exhaustion, and the limits of your own resolve. Many who fail do so because they underestimate the trial… or themselves."
John's stomach churned. Fear, doubt, and adrenaline battled within him. Pain? Trial? I barely know how to survive this city, and now… this?
"You will begin at midnight," the man said. "Until then, observe, learn, and prepare. There are resources here. Herbs, texts, and instruments. Study them. Your next steps will require skill beyond mere knowledge. And remember," he added, voice lowering, "your actions are not just your own. The world outside waits. Some watch you… already plotting your failure."
John spent the next few hours wandering the Society's vast interior, inspecting bookshelves, studying herbs, and noting techniques he could only dream of mastering. A strange excitement mingled with apprehension. He realized he was not just learning; he was being initiated into a secret world, one filled with potential—and danger.
When midnight approached, a heavy metal door opened to reveal a chamber unlike any he had seen: dimly lit, with intricate markings on the floor, and faint whispers echoing as if the walls themselves were alive. The Trial of Pain awaited.
John took a deep breath, clutching the book tightly. The warmth from its pages flowed through him, steadying his racing heart. He was no longer a struggling street doctor—he was on the path to something far greater.
Cliffhanger: As he stepped into the chamber, the door slammed shut behind him, and a voice echoed from the darkness:
"To survive, you must endure what no mortal should… and only then will you rise."