Neo York's streets were alive with the hum of traffic and distant sirens, yet a tension lingered in the air that only John Tan seemed to notice. The envelope that had arrived at his door last night had contained cryptic instructions: "A street challenge awaits. You will heal a poisoned victim within one hour, or face public humiliation. Be ready."
John arrived at the designated location—a crowded street corner near the financial district. Neon signs flickered, and puddles reflected distorted images of the people passing by. Onlookers had already begun gathering, sensing the unusual aura of anticipation.
At the center of the crowd, a man sprawled on the pavement, pale and barely conscious. He had been poisoned with a fast-acting compound, deliberately designed to test the limits of any healer. Max Carter appeared from the shadows, arms crossed, smirking.
"Welcome, Tan," Max called out. "I hope you're ready to prove your worth. The clock is ticking."
John swallowed hard. This is it. A real test in public… and Max is watching. His mind raced through the book's instructions. Detoxification techniques, nerve point manipulations, herbal infusions—every step required precision and calm under extreme pressure.
He knelt beside the victim, assessing the symptoms: shallow breathing, pale lips, rapid pulse, eyes glazed over. He followed the sequence exactly as described in the book, starting with acupressure points to stabilize the nervous system while preparing a herbal antidote.
The crowd murmured, watching every motion. Some whispered in awe, others with doubt. Time was slipping away.
Suddenly, the victim convulsed violently. John's heart raced. Using the techniques from the Trial of Pain, he counteracted the toxin's effects, moving his hands in fluid, controlled patterns. Each step required perfect timing. One mistake could mean failure, or worse.
Max's eyes narrowed. "You think you can impress everyone with luck? Skill isn't enough in this world. Timing, strategy, and courage—that's what counts."
John ignored the taunts, focusing entirely on the victim. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his muscles burned from tension, but he kept moving. Slowly, the victim's pulse stabilized. Color returned to the lips. The crowd gasped collectively.
Minutes later, the man opened his eyes, weak but alive. John exhaled, feeling the weight of relief, exhaustion, and exhilaration washing over him.
The onlookers whispered among themselves: "Who is this man? He's no ordinary healer…"
Max stepped forward, clapping slowly. "I must admit… impressive. You've survived your first real public test. But don't grow complacent. Each life you save, each success, makes you more visible. And not everyone who sees you will applaud."
John nodded silently. His gaze wandered over the crowd, sensing a mix of curiosity, admiration, and something darker—jealousy, envy, perhaps even malice. The world he had stepped into was dangerous, and skill alone would not guarantee survival.
As he walked away, Max's voice followed him. "Remember, Tan… this is only the beginning. You've passed the street challenge, but the real tests lie ahead—where failure isn't measured by humiliation, but by life and death."
That night, back in his small apartment, John studied the book under lamplight. The warmth from the pages offered comfort, yet a subtle warning lingered. Each triumph brought him closer to recognition—and closer to danger.
Cliffhanger: A shadow appeared outside his window, barely visible in the rain-soaked streetlight. A note was attached to a small dart: "Next patient. Arrive or regret it."