Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 15: A Woman Who Refused to Bet

A Woman Who Refused to Bet

"Divine Doctor Ravenswood, are you planning to use the Thirteen Shadow Acupuncture Therapy to treat Patriarch De Dominicis’ paralysis from the Heavenly Pillar Point?"

The voice cut cleanly through the courtyard, sharp and uninvited.

"Yes. Why?"

Amara Ravenswood frowned slightly as she answered. Her long brown hair slipped over one shoulder, hazel eyes darkening by a shade. She had just finished regulating her breath, aligning her focus and internal rhythm. Being interrupted at this stage was more than rude—it was disruptive. Annoyance flickered across her calm exterior like a crack in glass.

"I think it’s inappropriate," Evan said as he stepped forward, black eyes cold and assured. "You probably haven’t identified the real issue with Patriarch De Dominicis. Using this method to clear the nerves might actually harm the patient. If you’re not confident... let me do it."

The air froze.

For half a second, there was stunned silence. Then the De Dominicis household erupted.

"Who do you think you are, teaching Divine Doctor Ravenswood how to treat a patient?"

"What a joke! This is the first time I’ve heard someone daring to instruct Divine Doctor Ravenswood on diagnosis!"

"Who brought him here? Get him out—now!"

Voices overlapped, sharp with anger, disbelief, and offense. The atmosphere turned heavy, like storm clouds pressing down on the courtyard.

Julian D’Aurelius stood slightly to the side, black hair neat, golden eyes half-lidded as if he were watching a familiar play unfold.

Haha... here it is. The classic routine.

First, Evan steps forward to draw hatred.

After drawing hatred, he proposes a bet. Then he lets Amara continue the treatment. When something goes wrong—or appears to—he’ll step in, act superior, and save the day.

By then, the De Dominicis household will be awestruck, and Amara will start admiring his medical skill... and fall straight into his orbit.

Julian’s lips twitched faintly.

But honestly, Amara’s treatment isn’t wrong. It’s just too conservative. The nerve blockage needs a stronger stimulus at the Outer Mound Point to fully expel the blood stasis.

As Julian’s thoughts settled, Amara’s expression subtly changed.

It was brief—so brief most wouldn’t notice. Her brows knit together for an instant, her fingers pausing above the silver needles. Something about the situation suddenly felt... off.

Evan, despite the scolding, maintained his calm composure. His back was straight, chin slightly raised, the picture of restrained confidence.

This is how a superior man behaves, he thought coldly. Unshaken, no matter how foolish the crowd.

Ryan De Dominicis quickly stepped forward, anxiety written all over his face.

"Elders, please," he said urgently. "I invited Evan. He’s also skilled in medicine and came specifically to treat my grandfather. Why not give him a chance?"

"Ridiculous!" a middle-aged man snapped, face dark with fury. "Your grandfather’s condition is no joke! How can you let some random kid interfere? What use is this young brat?"

"Oh?"

Evan sneered softly, the corner of his mouth lifting with icy disdain.

"Divine Doctor Ravenswood is younger than me," he said coolly. "So how do you know my medical skills aren’t better than hers? How about we make a bet?"

The courtyard went quiet again.

"What kind of bet?" someone demanded.

"If Divine Doctor Ravenswood can’t cure him," Evan said evenly, "I’ll save Patriarch De Dominicis myself. And when I do, all of you will apologize to me."

"And if Divine Doctor Ravenswood cures him?"

Evan’s gaze sharpened. "If she succeeds, I’ll crawl out of the De Dominicis household."

"Fine," the middle-aged man said through clenched teeth. "It’s a deal."

If even Divine Doctor Ravenswood failed, only her grandfather—Johny Ravenswood—could possibly intervene. There was no risk here. None at all.

Evan felt triumph surge through his chest.

This is how you earn the respect of great households, he thought. This is psychology.

He turned toward Amara, flashing his signature wicked smile.

"Divine Doctor Ravenswood," he said smoothly, "you can also bet with me on anything you like. I, Evan, never go back on my word."

Amara looked at him.

Really looked at him.

After hearing Julian’s inner thoughts, the picture had become painfully clear. The timing. The provocation. The smug confidence. It all felt staged—and distasteful.

Not impressive.

Greasy.

"Sorry," she said coldly. "I don’t bet."

Her voice was steady, emotionless, like frost settling over stone.

"Healing is not a wager. Please be quiet and don’t disturb my treatment."

Without another glance at Evan, she turned to Julian.

"Julian, sterilize the needles again."

Julian blinked, then nodded, stepping forward as instructed. His golden eyes briefly met Evan’s.

Good luck with your performance, he thought dryly.

Facing Amara’s cold dismissal, Evan remained unfazed. His smile didn’t fade.

Once I display my true skill, he told himself, she’ll understand. Women are naturally drawn to strength.

Ryan De Dominicis, however, was growing increasingly anxious.

This was Divine Doctor Ravenswood—the pride of the Ravenswood household. He had hoped Evan would treat his grandfather first, securing him credit as the recommender.

But when he saw Evan’s confident, almost predatory smile, his heart steadied.

Look at Brother Evan, Ryan thought. Smiling like that... everything must already be under his control.

No wonder he was Brother Evan.

Julian’s thoughts surfaced again, calm and certain.

Sigh... I remembered correctly. After the treatment, Patriarch De Dominicis will still retain blood stasis. Amara’s method has a minor flaw.

In a few minutes, it’ll be Evan’s turn to act impressive... and Amara will start developing feelings for him. That’s how she ends up joining his harem.

Amara remained expressionless.

Her focus returned fully to the silver needles resting between her fingers. As a core technique of the Ravenswood household, the Thirteen Shadow Acupuncture Therapy was sacred—precise, dangerous, and powerful.

Her hands moved.

Fast. Clean. Like flowing shadows.

One needle. Then another.

Her movements were so smooth they seemed rehearsed by fate itself. The silver flashed, sinking into precise points along Patriarch De Dominicis’ body, stimulating the nerves with controlled force.

Thirteen needles fell in rapid succession.

The moment the final needle settled, Patriarch De Dominicis’ complexion abruptly changed.

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the courtyard.

Every member of the De Dominicis household tensed at once.