Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!-Chapter 197: The Master’s Charade

Ethan shook his head, barely able to hide his disbelief.

'So, they're just a bunch of con artists?'

The old man straightened slightly, his frail frame stiffening as he let out a weary sigh. His expression was grave, as if he carried the weight of some great truth.

Greg's mother clutched his arm desperately. "Doctor… please, tell me—can you save him?"

The old man didn't answer right away. Instead, he cast a meaningful glance at his two 'assistants.'

One of them, a younger man with a neatly trimmed beard, stepped forward, his voice tinged with regret. "If only you had called us a few days earlier… there might have been hope. Now, all we can do is try our best. But…" He rubbed his fingers together subtly, the message clear.

Before he could finish, the old man lifted a wrinkled hand, waving him off.

The other assistant quickly chimed in. "The master says he won't accept payment…"

The first assistant sighed dramatically. "Master, you're too kind. At your age, you should be resting, not working for free…"

Ethan nearly laughed. This was a whole damn production. The old man played the selfless healer, while his lackeys handled the dirty work—take the money first, and if things went south, they could always claim they did their best. Who the hell actually fell for this?

Apparently, Greg's mother did. Without hesitation, she pulled a wad of cash from her purse and shoved it into the old man's hands. "Please, anything you can do. If my son recovers, I'll give you another three thousand."

The old man hesitated, putting on a show of reluctance, but after a few back-and-forths, he finally accepted the money with a solemn nod. He passed the cash to one of his assistants, then patted Greg's mother's hand as if in comfort.

To Ethan, though, the touch lingered a little too long.

'Not only is he a scammer, but he's a creep too….'

His jaw tightened. How could someone take advantage of a grieving mother like this?

He was about to step in when his phone buzzed. Glancing down, he saw Williams' name flash across the screen. With one last glare at the old fraud, he turned and stepped out of the room to answer.

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"Ethan, we've hit a dead end," Williams said, his voice tight with frustration. "We asked around, but no one saw the four of them after class that day. The only lead we've got is security footage from the east parking lot. They left campus around 5 PM and got into a cab. We're heading to the taxi company now, but even if we find the driver, there's no guarantee he'll remember them."

Ethan exhaled sharply. Not much to go on. "Keep digging," he said before hanging up.

When he turned back toward the hospital room, he noticed a crowd had gathered near the door—doctors, nurses, and curious onlookers pressing in to see what was happening.

'What now? Are the scammers putting on a show?'

Frowning, Ethan pushed his way to the front, using his height to peer over the crowd. But what he saw wasn't what he expected.

The old man stood at Greg's bedside, his hand trembling slightly as he held a thin golden needle. Slowly, almost reverently, he pressed the needle into Greg's forehead. Greg's mother stood beside him, her fists clenched, her face tight with worry.

Ethan's unease deepened. What the hell was this guy up to?

Two nurses in front of Ethan whispered to each other.

"Is that Dr. Aldric again? I wonder if he'll actually pull off a miracle this time."

"He'd better. That kid's lucky he showed up after they signed the critical condition paperwork."

"Lucky? When has Dr. Aldric ever appeared before someone's signed a waiver?"

"You're right," the other nurse murmured. "I heard he's traveled the world and is very versed in various types of traditional medicine practices. People try to find him, but he's never around when they need him."

"Exactly. He only appears when something… unnatural happens."

"Look, look!"

Ethan listened carefully, piecing things together. Maybe these three weren't con artists after all?

As the nurse pointed, Dr. Aldric—if that was even his real name, pushed the thin golden needle halfway into Greg's forehead. Then, with a precise motion, he tapped the end of the needle with his ring finger.

Ding…

A faint, crystalline sound resonated in the air, unnatural in its clarity. The needle began to vibrate, trembling so fast it almost blurred.

Ethan's eyes widened. He immediately released his Soul Sense, focusing on the subtle shifts in energy. In his mind's eye, he saw something he hadn't expected—a faint golden mist, barely perceptible, flowing from Dr. Aldric's fingertip and threading into the needle.

The vibration intensified, the frequency so high that even Ethan's Soul Sense struggled to track it.

His skepticism wavered. This guy might actually be the real deal. For the first time, a flicker of hope stirred in his chest. If this so-called Doctor was capable of something like this, then maybe—just maybe his friends could still be saved.

But then, something strange caught his attention.

Dr. Aldric looked quite old—his face a map of deep wrinkles, his frail posture that of a man who had seen far too many winters. Yet, beneath the loose sleeve of his robe, a portion of his wrist was exposed… and the skin there was smooth. Almost youthful.

A chill crept down Ethan's spine. Something wasn't right.

Extending his Soul Sense further, he pushed past the surface, beyond the illusion. What he saw nearly made him choke.

Beneath the oversized robes was not an elderly man but a strikingly beautiful woman. The hunched posture? A deliberate disguise. The frail hands were nothing more than an illusion. And as Ethan's gaze drifted lower—

'Holy hell—it's a woman!'

His Soul Sense snapped back so fast he nearly gave himself a headache.

At that moment, Dr. Aldric—or rather, the woman pretending to be him, went rigid. Slowly, she turned toward the door, her sharp eyes locking onto Ethan.

There was no mistaking that glare. It was ice-cold, laced with fury.

'Damn it, she caught me.' Ethan's pulse quickened. Whoever she was, her control over energy was probably leagues beyond his.

"Master? What's wrong?" One of her assistants, noticing her sudden change in demeanor, cast a wary glance toward the door.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned back to Greg, resuming her work.

The assistant frowned, eyes flicking toward the hallway.

Tension thickened in the room. Greg's mother clutched her hands together, her nerves visibly fraying, though she didn't dare interrupt. The onlookers barely breathed, their gazes locked on the unfolding scene.

Ethan, however, saw what they couldn't.

The black mist had been swirling around Greg's nose and mouth from the moment Ethan arrived. Now, it was shifting, retreating inward, drawn toward the point where the needle had pierced his forehead. Slowly, the mist gathered, condensing into a dense black sphere at the needle's tip.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, the woman extracted the needle.

The shift was immediate. Greg's complexion, once sickly and gray, regained a pale but far healthier tone. Though still weak, his breathing steadied, his chest rising and falling in a natural rhythm.

Seconds later, his eyelids fluttered. Then, without warning, he jolted upright, panic flashing across his face.

"Those damn Serpent—!" he shouted.

Before anyone could react, his body gave out, and he collapsed back onto the bed, unconscious once more.

Ethan's jaw tightened. The black mist had returned—but now, it was fainter. Weaker.

But not gone.

And that meant whatever had taken hold of Greg… wasn't finished yet.