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..."

he tapped his forehead, and his mind cleared a bit. He suddenly

people waiting behind him erupted in collective excitement. Mr. Atticus truly lived up to

all they knew was that the toxin tormenting them for over a day was

the crowd, straightened his back a bit more. He thought Flora was utterly foolish-wasn't this

and anger. They wished they could give him a piece of

he so

medical skills are lightyears

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

with activity, Flora's area was somewhat quiet. Those treated by Flora showed no signs of improvement. They still felt itchy and in pain. They

calm, treating one person after another, telling

one

to see a man staring intently at Mr. Atticus's side, her gaze slightly darkening. The man, lost in thought, only reacted when Flora called him. Seeing

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