Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 16: The Needle That Turns the Tide
The Needle That Turns the Tide
About five minutes later, Patriarch De Dominicis’ left hand twitched.
At first, it was barely noticeable—a faint, almost hesitant lift of his fingers, as if his body itself was testing whether it still remembered how to obey him. Then the movement became clearer, unmistakable.
The courtyard exploded.
"As expected of Divine Doctor Ravenswood! Her medical skills are truly incredible!"
"This is amazing—Patriarch De Dominicis is finally recovering!"
"Divine Doctor Ravenswood lives up to her reputation. Unlike some people who only know how to boast loudly and embarrass themselves."
The middle-aged man who had placed the bet earlier snorted heavily, his gaze sharp as it cut toward Evan.
Evan curled his lips, an expression of cool disdain forming on his face.
The Thirteen Shadow Acupuncture Therapy... he admitted inwardly. It really is impressive.
But that was all.
In his eyes, it was still inferior.
Traditional Acupuncture is the true pinnacle—the number one needle technique in the world.
This girl, Amara Ravenswood, was still far from matching him.
When she becomes my woman, Evan thought arrogantly, I won’t mind teaching her my ultimate skills.
A quiet hush filled the room as Amara lifted each silver needle from Patriarch De Dominicis’ hand, steady fingers guiding every motion. Close now, almost near enough to feel his breath, she watched his face through narrowed hazel eyes.
"Patriarch De Dominicis," she asked softly, "how do you feel now?"
After a short silence, he said it felt easier... his voice shaking yet somehow stronger. Not like earlier. Now he could form sentences without stumbling. Speaking came through
Relief showed plainly across the faces in the De Dominicis home.
"That’s good," Amara said, nodding. "I’ll prescribe some medicine for you. Take it on time for three months. After that, you’ll still need to nurture your health slowly. Recovery doesn’t happen overnight."
Mid-sentence, her fingers lifted the lid of a tiny container. From inside came paper - then a pen. Without rush, words formed on the page, each stroke steady, deliberate.
Out of nowhere, the middle-aged man moved ahead, voice breaking the quiet. "Hey," slipped out before he could stop it. He pointed straight at Evan. "Ye—Evan—what do you have to say now?"
His eyes were cold. "I won’t make things difficult for you. Making you crawl out would tarnish the De Dominicis household’s dignity. But you must apologize to Divine Doctor Ravenswood."
"Oh?"
Evan sneered, lifting his hand and holding up three fingers.
"Are you sure he’s cured?" he asked lightly. "How about this—I’ll count. If the patriarch is truly fine after three minutes, I’ll kneel and apologize."
"Still struggling?" the middle-aged man snapped, veins bulging slightly at his temples. "Fine."
He pulled out his watch and started timing, clearly done tolerating Evan’s arrogance.
The surrounding members of the De Dominicis household glared at Evan as if they were ready to tear him apart.
Three minutes, their eyes seemed to say. Just wait.
Amara’s heart sank the moment Evan finished speaking.
She understood immediately.
Everything... is exactly as Julian said.
Without hesitation, she reached out and grasped Patriarch De Dominicis’ wrist again, her fingers pressing lightly as she reassessed his condition. Her expression tightened.
Sure enough—beneath the surface calm, blood clots were beginning to gather again. The nerves hadn’t fully cleared.
Her initial plan had been cautious: use acupuncture therapy to stabilize him, then rely on medicine to slowly rebuild his weakened body.
But now—
That plan was no longer enough.
"Julian," she said, looking up. Her voice was steady, but there was urgency beneath it. "Please sterilize another silver needle for me."
"Okay."
Julian D’Aurelius nodded, stepping forward instinctively. His golden eyes flickered with mild confusion.
Why another needle? he wondered. Did she figure it out already?
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Amara smiled faintly.
A quiet, grateful smile—meant only for him.
Thank you, Julian, she thought. If you hadn’t warned me, how would I have known?
With no hesitation, she took the sterilized needle and moved to Patriarch De Dominicis’ calf. Her fingers pressed once, locating the precise spot.
The Outer Mound Point.
The needle went in.
The movement was sharp, decisive.
Almost immediately, a large red patch bloomed across Patriarch De Dominicis’ calf, vivid and unmistakable.
The air in the courtyard tightened—every breath held, every eye locked onto that single point.
