"Wait, let me apply the medicine first," Simon said to an impatient Elliott.
Elliott kept his eyes closed and retorted, "Simon, are you really some miracle doctor? You've been treating my eyes for so long. Someone like Leonard could've cured them in an instant—this would've been child's play for him."
Simon frowned. "Who's this expert? Take me to him. I refuse to believe anyone could heal such an injury immediately."
Elliott winced. "Be gentler—my eyes sting a little. And did you wrap the bandage too tight? My head feels stuffy."
In truth, Elliott felt a soothing coolness in his eyes, and his mind was at ease. But he enjoyed teasing Simon.
He was still annoyed that Simon had saved him without waking him first to ask if he was willing to kill Vincent—a near-impossible target.
But Simon knew Elliott had already agreed to the task, so he ignored the jabs, letting them go in one ear and out the other.
What truly intrigued him was this "Leonard" Elliott kept mentioning—someone whose medical prowess was supposedly far superior. Simon longed to challenge him, to test his own skills against such a master. Missing the chance would be a lifelong regret.
Besides, every healer had their own methods. If they could set aside pride and collaborate, they might elevate each other's craft. He'd have to find a way to get Elliott to introduce them.
---
Ten days later, Elliott walked through Wuxi City, gazing at the bustling crowds with the clarity of a man reborn. His vision was now sharp, every detail vivid.
As he strolled down the familiar streets, memories of Phoebe surfaced—her laughter ringing bright and carefree, like a child's.
That joyous sound still echoed in his mind, though it would never return. There's nothing I can do now…
He wandered slowly, absorbing every sensation, reliving every moment with her. This would be the last time he allowed himself such sentimentality. After today, he would never indulge in weakness again.
Once he left Wuxi, he would become a new Elliott—no longer shackled by past regrets. Women? He had his fill in his previous life. This time, he needed none.
Never again would he let a woman wound his heart. Never again would he fall for fleeting emotions. Survival in this cutthroat world demanded cold detachment.
---
"Elliott, where do you plan to go tomorrow?" Lucas asked.
Elliott chuckled. "Lucas, I've never been one for gratitude, but today, I truly thank you." He raised his cup and downed the wine in one gulp.
Lucas mirrored the gesture and laughed heartily. "Bold! Grace, pour us more—this is my farewell toast to Elliott and Simon."
Elliott turned to Grace and Lucas. "Lucas, she and I are practically family now. As her younger brother, I'd like to toast to her happiness before I leave. She defied Noah Kennedys to stay—surely, as the leader, you should show some appreciation?"
He knew Grace's fate in Heavenly Dragons was tragic—her unjust death had shattered Lucas. So, for all her kindness, he felt compelled to speak up.
Lucas roared with laughter, glancing at Grace's flustered expression. "Soon enough. When the time comes, I'll make sure you're invited. Consider this cup an early wedding toast."
He drained his bowl in one swig. Elliott and Simon raised their cups. "Congratulations!" They drank deeply.
As the wine settled, Elliott recalled the many within the Beggar Sect who sought Lucas' downfall. "Lucas, I've heard the Beggar Sect is still hunting for that wretch Mia?"
Lucas nodded. "Unfortunately, there's been no trace of her."