Rania's decision was met with an explosion of anger.
"ARE YOU CRAZY, RANIA?" Clarisa roared, grabbing her daughter's arm. "You're going to let this loser kill my mother with his nonsense? Don't you realize that?"
"This isn't just nonsense, it's a crime!" Polce interrupted in a professional, angry tone. He glared at Rayden with disgust. "As a doctor, I will never allow this to happen. Doctor, you must stop this right now!"
The head doctor looked at a loss, caught between medical ethics and a family's desperation.
"Mrs. Carrason, your husband has no medical qualifications. The hospital could be sued if anything happens."
Amidst the chaos, Rania stood firm. Her decision gave her a strange strength she had never felt before. "Doctor," she said in a clear voice, looking directly into his eyes. "You yourself said there was no hope, that we had to prepare for the worst. If there really was no hope, what harm would we have in trying? I, as the family's representative, will sign any waiver, absolving the hospital of all responsibility."
That argument silenced them all. Legally, it was the hospital's way out. The doctor hesitated for a moment, then nodded resignedly. "Okay. But all the risk is yours."
Polce stared at Rania in disbelief. "Rania, wake up! This is crazy!"
But Rania wasn't listening anymore. She turned to Rayden. "What do you need?"
Polce laughed sarcastically. "Right. Now where are you going to find 'magic herbs' and silver needles at ten o'clock at night? The pharmacy is closed, and your shaman is probably asleep. This is nonsense."
Rayden ignored the jeers. He pulled an old cell phone from his pocket, an old model that didn't even have a color screen. He pressed a few speed dial buttons.
The call connected. "Uncle Lhi, it's me," Rayden said quietly, his voice sounding different, more assertive. "I need the 'Nine Treasures of the Dragon'. Immediately. Send it to the lobby of Barcelona Central Hospital. It's an emergency."
That was it. He didn't wait for a response and hung up.
"Uncle Lhi? The Nine Treasures of the Dragon?" Polce shook his head pityingly. "What kind of drama is this? Do you think this is a fantasy movie?"
The Carrasons stared at Rayden like he was a freak, waiting for this farce to end. However, less than fifteen minutes later, a middle-aged man in a simple courier jacket entered the lobby. He was carrying an old, darkly varnished wooden box. He looked around, his eyes met Rayden's, and then he walked over.
"Sir," he said with an oddly respectful tone, handing the box over. He bowed slightly before turning and leaving without a word.
The entire process was so quick and efficient that it felt surreal. The wooden box in Rayden's hands felt heavy and tangible.
With the nurse's reluctant permission, Rayden carried the box to the ICU. "Only Rania is allowed in," he said firmly.
Clarisa and Polce were forced to wait outside, watching through the glass window with conflicting anger and curiosity.
Inside the room, Rayden opened the box. A strong, earthy, and spicy aroma immediately filled the air. Inside, wrapped in silk, were nine types of strange-looking dried roots and leaves, as well as a set of long silver needles that glinted dimly in the ICU lights.
With the composure of a surgeon, Rayden got to work. He placed several types of herbs into a small electric kettle he'd requested from a nurse, and brought it to a boil with hot water. While he waited, he retrieved the silver needles.
Rania held her breath. She watched as her husband, who was usually only skilled with a broom, now wielded the sharp needles with grace. Without hesitation, he inserted the first needle between her grandmother's thumb and forefinger. Then he inserted the first needle into her wrist, then the neck, and then the chest. Each puncture was precise, swift, and without hesitation.
Outside, Polce pressed his face against the glass. "Crazy! He's puncturing the Neiguan and Shenmen points! Those are vital points! One small mistake could stop her heart forever!"
Clarisa nearly fainted with horror.
Rayden ignored the outside world. Once all the needles were in place, he poured the prepared herbal concoction into the cup. The steam was thick with a strange aroma. Gently, he opened the grandmother's mouth slightly and slowly dripped the liquid in.
All was silent. All that could be heard was the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor beside the bed.
Beep... beep... beep...
The sound was weak and irregular. The numbers on the screen showed a heart rate of 45, dangerously low blood pressure. The lines on the monitor looked chaotic. It was the rhythm of death.
Rayden stood silently beside the bed, his eyes closed as if in concentration.
One minute passed. Nothing changed.
Two minutes. Clarisa began crying hysterically outside.
Then, something happened.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The beeping became a little louder. The previously chaotic lines on the monitor began to form a more regular pattern.
Polce's eyes widened. The heart rate slowly rose. 48... 52... 55...
His blood pressure crept up as well.
Beep... Beep... Beep... Beep...
The rhythm grew steadier, stronger. The heart rate now reached 65. The lines on the monitor now showed a normal, healthy sinus rhythm.
Mrs. Carrason's face, previously pale and bluish, slowly began to take on a faint blush.
Outside the window, Polce's jaw dropped open. He stared at the numbers on the monitor, then at Rayden, then back at the monitor. It was impossible. Medically, it was absolutely impossible.
The chief physician, who had been observing from the hallway, also froze in place, his eyes glued to the monitor, which now displayed stable signs of life.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
A sound they had believed only minutes ago they would never hear again. The sound of life snatched back from the brink of death by a son-in-law they had deemed useless.