Rise of The Abandoned Husband (Liam Knight) novel Chapter 162

162 Chapter 162–The Alchemist’s Vindication A President’s Downfall

162 Chapter 162 The Alchemist’s Vindication: A

President’s Downfall

The Pill Cloud swirled above the competition hall, bathing everything in an ethereal glow that seemed to rewrite the laws of reality itself. I stood quietly, watching as the audience’s faces transformed from shock to awe. Even the most seasoned alchemists

among them–men and women who had dedicated their entire lives to this craft- looked like children witnessing magic for the first time. (6)

Desmond Davenport’s complexion had gone from pale to ashen. His hands gripped the edges of his seat as if he might collapse without support.

“This… this is impossible,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Beside him, Elias Ainsworth star

at me with wide eyes, his earlier arrogance completely evaporated. The red handprint on his cheek seemed to have faded–or perhaps it was simply overshadowed by the crimson flush of humiliation spreading

across his face.

“I’ve spent my entire life studying ancient texts,” one elderly judge whispered, tears streaming down his wrinkled face. “I never thought I’d live to see a Pill Cloud. Not in this age.

The swirling colors above started to condense, forming a tighter spiral that seemed to

pour ener

directly onto my purple pill. The small object pulsed in response, each throb sending ripples of light across the judging table.

“Gentlemen,” I said, addressing the panel of stunned judges. “I present to you the Curing Pill.”

“The Curing Pill?” repeated the head judge, finally finding his voice. “What… what exactly does it cure?”

I smiled. “Everything”

This simple declaration sent another wave of murmurs through the crowd. I could have claimed more–could have revealed its true power to heal even the most. devastating injuries and illnesses that had plagued mankind for millennia. But that would have attracted too much attention from powers I wasn’t yet ready to face. For

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182 Chapter 102 The Alchemist’s Vindiction: A President’s Downfall

now, this display was sufficient.

“A pill that cures everything? Desmond finally recovered enough to scoff, though his voice lacked conviction. “Preposterous. Even with your… unusual display,” he gestured vaguely toward the sky, “such a claim requires proof.

“I agree. I nodded. Perhaps one of our esteemed judges would like to volunteer? Anyone suffering from a chronic condition they’ve been unable to treat?”

The elderly judge with spectacles raised his hand tentatively. “I’ve had tremors in my right hand for twenty years. Three of the best healers in Veridia City deemed it incurable

1 gestured toward the pill. “Would you be willing to try my creation?”

He hesitated only briefly before nodding.

“Wait!” Desmond interjected. “This could be dangerous! We have no idea what side effects–

*I’ve been an alchemist for sixty years,” the old judge cut him off sharply. “I can sense malicious intent in a pill. This one…” he gazed at my creation with reverence, “this one carries only healing energy.”

Before Desmond could protest further, the judge picked up the pill and swallowed it.

The entire hall held its breath. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, a soft purple glow emanated from the judge’s chest, spreading outward through his limbs. He gasped, lifting his right hand, which had been subtly trembling since he’d entered

the hall.

The trembling stopped.

He flexed his fingers, then made a fist, then spread his hand wide. Tears welled in his

eyes.

“Twenty years,” he whispered. “Twenty years of not being able to write my own name

without embarrassment.”

He turned to face the audience, holding up his now–steady hand. “It’s cured. Completely cured!”

Applause erupted, quickly building to a thunderous ovation that shook the

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competition hall. People were standing on their chairs, craning to get a better view of the miracle they’d just witnessed.

Elias stepped forward, his expression a complex mixture of emotions. Pride and arrogance warred with grudging respect as he approached me.

“…” he began, then swallowed hard. “I admit defeat.”

The hall fell silent again. For Ellas Ainsworth, Desmond Davenport’s prized disciple, to publicly concede was unprecedented.

“You’re not just better than me,” he continued, his voice carrying to every corner of the hushed room. “You’re better than anyone I’ve ever seen. Including my master.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Behind Elias, Desmond’s face contorted with rage.

“Elias!” he bellowed. “What are you saying?”

“The truth, Master,” Elias replied without turning around. “I’ve studied under you for seven years. I know what you can and cannot do. This…” he gestured toward the still–visible Pill Cloud, “this is beyond both of us.

Desmond’s nostrils flared as he surged to his feet. The competition is not decided by the competitors themselves! As president of the Traditional Medicine Association and head judge of this competition, I declare-”

“That Elias Ainsworth is the winner?” I interrupted, eyebrows raised. “Despite the Pill Cloud? Despite your own disciple’s concession? Despite the miraculous cure everyone just witnessed?”

“I make the rules here!” Desmond shouted, abandoning all pretense of impartiality. “Do

you

think a pretty light show changes anything? Do you know who I am? The power I hold? I can destroy your career with a single word!”

The hall had gone deathly quiet. Desmond seemed to realize he’d overplayed his hand, revealing too much of his corrupt nature, but it was too late to retract his words.

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