Frank really despised oblivious people who kept running their mouths while he was trying to save one.


    It:


    was certainly not helpful for the ice–cold mind a healer needed.


    The burly man would retort, but Frank’s icy re left him flinching, with a chill running down his


    spine.


    He promptly withdrew the words on the tip of his tongue as well, even though he was a veteran


    member of the reigning gang of East City.


    He just


    had the feeling that Frank was not bluffing–if he really breathed another word, Frank would really kill


    him.


    Meanwhile, since the burly man stopped talking, Frank turned and drew out the silver needles brought


    to him.


    He ran the first into the center spot on top of the patient’s head before inserting over twenty across the


    rest of the patient’s body, making him look like a porcupine.


    Then, Frank pressed his entire palm over the man’s navel, reversing the flow of vigor, jolting the man


    awake, and making him cough up a mouthful of clotted blood!


    “Woah…” J was left gaping, impressed that Frank saved a dying man within minutes.


    His medicinal prowess would not pale inparison to her grandfather’s!


    “Boss… Are you okay? How are you feeling?” The burly man hurried to the patient’s side, his jaw


    hanging open and his earlier angsty expression gone.


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    The patient a middle–aged man named Kurt Stinson–waved him off, gesturing that he was fine.


    –


    He slowly looked up and nodded at J when he saw her. “You really are Dan Zimmer’s


    granddaughter… I would’ve died if not for you.”


    J smiled and shook her head–she was not the one who saved Kurt, and she was not about to


    im credit for that aplishment.


    Pointing at Frank, she said, “You misunderstand, Mr. Stinson. That gentleman was the one who saved


    you, not me. To be honest, I failed to diagnose you correctly in the first ce, but Mr. Lawrence was


    wise and found the precise cause. It was also his treatment that saved you.”


    Kurt did a double take and turned toward Frank, studying him for a while.


    He was certainly surprised to find that Frank was so young–he had never heard of a young man with


    such profound medicinal skills after reigning in Riverton for so long.


    “May I have the honor of your name, sir?” he asked.


    “Frank Lawrence.”


    “What’s with that attitude, kiddo?!” The burly man from before was immediately annoyed.


    Kurt promptly shot him a look. “Be quiet, Bravo,”


    Bravo promptly behaved, while Kurt smiled as he took out a check from his pocket and wrote down a


    number.


    “This is a little token of my gratitude for saving me, Mr. Lawrence. Please take it,” Kurt said, stuffing the


    check into Frank’s hand and clearly not permitting refusal.


    Frank looked closely and saw that it was a million dors!


    “In that case, I will ept it,” he said.


    “It’s only right, Mr. Lawrence.” Kurt smiled. “Also, may I ask what caused my condition?”


    “Ster Wormwood,” Frank replied bluntly. “It’s a poisonous herb.”


    Kurt was taken aback. “Does that mean I was poisoned?”


    Frank nodded confidently. “That would be the case, unless you ate it for fun.”