Seeing her also working on treatments, Mr. Atticus's eyes flickered with surprise. He hadn't expected this young lady to have any real skills. But it was clear she was just scratching the surface. Her technique was clumsy and unrefined, definitely a novice. And some of the points she chose to treat? Even he couldn't fathom why.

For her to detoxify like this would be nothing short of a miracle.

Mr. Atticus let out a soft, derisive snort, making no effort to hide his skepticism. He turned his focus back to his own patient, concentrating intently. With decades of experience in alternative medicine, he knew the body's key points like the back of his hand-he could hit them even with his eyes closed. However, he approached this detoxification with caution, uncertain of success, so he proceeded with the utmost

care.

Ten minutes later, he removed the needles and asked, "How do you feel now?"

There was a faint tension in his voice, barely noticeable.

"I..."

man felt dizzy after the treatment, but upon hearing Mr. Atticus's question, he tapped his forehead, and his mind cleared a bit. He suddenly

waiting behind him erupted in collective excitement. Mr.

Mr. Atticus to detoxify them; all they knew was that the toxin tormenting

adoring gazes of the crowd, straightened his back a bit more. He thought Flora was utterly

and Lance watched him, almost bursting with frustration and anger. They wished they could give him

he so smug

skills are lightyears ahead

Ms. Flora went through all this trouble. Wouldn't it be simpler to just confront Mr. Atticus directly, beat him until he couldn't stand? Why all this complexity?

signs of improvement. They still felt itchy and in pain. They couldn't help but look enviously at the line

another, telling

one came

darkening. The man, lost

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