The room descended into chaos. Su Qingxue collapsed to her knees by the bed, her "Ice Queen" facade shattered by grief. Zhao Feng grabbed Lin Chen's collar, his face contorted. "You cursed him! You brought your bad luck into this house!"
Lin Chen didn't move. He simply looked at the clock. "Two minutes and forty seconds. Do you want to waste them hitting me, or do you want him to breathe again?"
Something in Lin Chen's eyes—a terrifying, absolute certainty—made Su Qingxue look up. "Stop!" she commanded. She looked at Lin Chen, her voice trembling. "Save him. If you save him, I will give you anything you want. If you fail... I will personally ensure you regret ever coming to Eastcliff."
"Fair enough," Lin Chen said. He shook off Zhao Feng with a slight jolt of energy that sent the rich heir stumbling into a cabinet. He moved to the Patriarch. *Nine Revolutions Divine Needle—Second Revolution: Soul Retrieval!*
He didn't use a few needles this time. He used all nine. They flew from his fingers like streaks of black light, pinning into the old man's head, chest, and limbs. Lin Chen's palms began to glow with a faint, misty heat. He pressed them against the Patriarch's solar plexus, funneling his *True Qi* into the dying man's meridians.
"He's just pressing on him! He's going to break the old man's ribs!" Doctor Brown shouted. But then, the heart monitor chirped. A single, weak blip. Then another. The flatline was fighting back.
Lin Chen's forehead beaded with sweat. This wasn't just medicine; it was a battle against the "Seven Killers Curse" hidden in the man's blood. Suddenly, the Patriarch's body convulsed. He opened his mouth and sprayed a fountain of thick, jet-black blood onto the white sheets. The blood sizzled slightly, emitting a foul, metallic stench.
"Grandpa!" Su Qingxue cried. But as the black blood left his body, the leaden color vanished from the old man's skin. He took a deep, gasping breath, and his eyes fluttered open.
"I... I feel like I was underwater for a hundred years," the Patriarch whispered, his voice weak but clear. The room fell into a stunned silence. The "dead" man was speaking.
After the doctors confirmed the miracle, Su Jian approached Lin Chen with a checkbook, his previous arrogance replaced by a calculating respect. "Mr. Lin, we misjudged you. Here is a blank check. Fill in any amount. Ten million, fifty million... the Su family pays its debts."
Zhao Feng bit his lip, his face red with humiliation. He had just been proven a fool in front of everyone. Lin Chen looked at the check, then at the opulence around him. He pushed the check back toward Su Jian.
"I don't want your money," Lin Chen said, his voice cold. "I have no use for paper."
Su Qingxue stepped forward, her eyes searching his. "Then what do you want? There must be something."
Lin Chen reached into his bag and pulled out a dusty, yellowed property deed. "On the outskirts of the city, on Maple Street, there is an old, dilapidated pharmacy called 'The Willow's Grace.' It was seized by the Su family during a debt collection five years ago. I want the deed, and I want no one to disturb me there."
The Patriarch narrowed his eyes. "That old pharmacy? It's a ruin. Why would a man of your talent want a pile of junk?" Lin Chen simply turned to leave. "Because that 'pile of junk' belonged to my father. And inside its walls lies a secret that will shake the very foundations of this city."