Chapter 5 Turmoil

• She quickly pulled away from him, taking a step back. She looked upset and said, "Why are you faking sick and fooling people like this?"
• Clyde was momentarily taken aback, then shook his head vigorously. "I... I'm not!"
• "Hah! Don't you try to fool me again. I saw with my own eyes the wounds and bloodstains on your face disappear!" She sounded furious, and continued saying, "I was driving home earlier, and I saw you lying in a pool of blood on the road. Everyone just ignored you. Do you know how much effort it took to bring you here? And now you're all fine! Tell me you're not pulling a fast one!"
• No injuries? Wait. Clyde touched his face. Yep, the wounds were gone, and he didn't even feel the pain from Marvin's kick earlier.
• Reflecting on how effortlessly he had leaped out of bed earlier, feeling pain-free and weightless, he couldn't shake the thought: Could that dream have been real?
• Suddenly, he sensed a surge of psychic swirl flowing within his core. Astonishingly, this swirl matched the flow he experienced in his dream.
• Just then, the woman said again, "Ah, whatever. Who cares if you're making it up or genuinely sick. I'll just take it as a good deed and hope the universe sees my kindness and helps my grandpa out. Anyways, since you're fine now, just beat it."
• And with that, she turned and walked off.
• Seeing her grumpy and leaving, Clyde wanted to explain but then remembered his mom and sister were still waiting for him at home and worried sick.
• He didn't bother to explain and decided to rush home first.
• As Clyde stepped into the open, a cool breeze brushed against him, instantly lifting his spirits.
• 'Spiritual force? Is that what they call it?' Clyde's mind instinctively latched onto the unfamiliar sensation.
• Clyde looked up and gasped. He was surrounded by a giant garden overflowing with strange and beautiful flowers and plants.
• In the center, a spring bubbled up from the earth, filling the air with a cool, refreshing mist.
• Beside the spring, a massive stone urn stood sentinel. On top of it lay an old man flanked by two others. The woman he'd just met was rushing towards the urn, too.
• Even though Clyde was about a hundred meters away, he could discern with unsettling clarity dark blotches spreading like shadows across the old man's face.
• His heart hammered in his chest. This unreal sharpness in his vision - when did this happen? How had he missed it?
• While Clyde was freaking out about his newfound superpower vision, the old man in coarse linen garments and flowing white hair beside the urn suddenly woke up.
• He reached out, his hand closing around the silver needles—a pair of peculiar instruments that resembled needles but had an otherworldly glow that pulsed faintly.
• With a cautious, deliberate motion, he pierced the forehead of the old man on the urn.
• The other man there, middle-aged with a worried frown, held his breath, afraid to make a single sound.
• He was terrified of making a sound that might bother the sick-looking old man on the urn who was getting poked with these glowing needles. Every time the needle went in, the old man's face scrunched up in pain.
• Seeing this, Clyde instinctively shouted, "Hey, stop!"
• His shout startled the already tense middle-aged man, who instantly spun around to glare angrily at Clyde like he wanted to murder him.
• Right then, the old man lying on the urn let out a cry of pain, followed by a gush of blood spluttering all over.
• The linen-clad elder was instantly furious, rebuking, "Ugh, I told you to be quiet a million times! Now everything's ruined!"
• Hearing this, the middle-aged man exploded, raging uncontrollably, "Damn it, where did this kid come from? Who let him in?"