Chapter 66: Sending the Banner

As soon as John returned to his room, he locked the door behind him, unable to contain his excitement. Without delay, he took out the Black-Spirit Stone.

He hadn't expected to stumble upon such a rare treasure in the Remar family. It was a truly unexpected surprise.

John grasped the Black-Spirit Stone in his hand and began absorbing its energy with fervor.

Zyyyy… Zyyyy!

The radiant luster of the stone rapidly dulled as the vital energy within John's body thickened visibly.

Once the stone's energy was nearly depleted, John used his spiritual tools to carefully cut it into seven round pieces, each with a diameter of four inches.

Now, it was time to engrave the Mind Circles on each of the seven pieces.

Before he realized it, half an hour had already passed.

That was when Queenie returned home from work. Seeing John's door tightly shut, she called out curiously, "Little John, what are you doing in there?"

"Sister Queenie, you're back," John answered as he opened the door, panting slightly.

Queenie raised an eyebrow, looking at him with suspicion. "Why do you look so exhausted? You've been at home all day."

"I was just... doing some handwork," he replied casually.

"Handwork?"

Queenie blinked, confused at first. Then a memory flashed in her mind—Kate Williams once joked that a boy's "handwork" often had a... different connotation.

Her cheeks flushed a bright crimson as she looked at John with an awkward, complicated expression.

"I understand," she said, voice hushed. "It's not easy living with so many sisters. You've been... holding back."

Before John could protest, Queenie gave him a gentle nudge back into his room. "Go ahead and finish your... handwork." She even closed the door for him.

John stared blankly at the seven unfinished energy circles laid out on his desk, then slowly recalled the way Queenie had looked at him. Her expression was filled with awkward sympathy—and misunderstanding.

I was really doing handwork! Literal handwork!

That evening...

At dinner, John couldn't shake the feeling that all three of his beautiful sisters were casting odd glances his way.

Tracy Linch served him a steaming bowl of soup and said, "Little brother, this is for you. It's mutton stewed with white radish. I even bought the goji berries myself at the specialty shop today!"

Alice Moon chimed in warmly, "Little John, if you ever need anything... you can tell us. We'll definitely support you."

John felt like he was sitting on a bed of nails during the entire meal. The unspoken thoughts behind their overly gentle behavior made him want to dig a hole and hide.

The next day...

John accompanied Tracy Linch to the Feazer Medical Clinic.

That morning, the clinic was packed with patients. Since Doctor Lynn had left, business had become several times busier. Many patients weren't even seeking urgent treatment—they just wanted Old Davis to help with physical recuperation and long-term care.

John didn't disturb Holbrook Davis. Instead, he assisted with acupuncture and prescribing medicine to a few seriously ill patients.

Suddenly, a cheerful female voice called out from the entrance, "Doctor Lopez, there you are!"

A smiling woman entered the clinic, holding a small girl in her arms.

When the little girl spotted John, she shouted happily, "Brother John!"

"Hello, little Anny," John greeted, ruffling the girl's soft hair. He looked at the woman and asked, "Has your daughter's cold recurred at all?"

"No, not once," the woman said gratefully. "Since your last injection, she's been perfectly healthy. Today, we came to deliver a banner for Dr. Lopez."

"Oh?" John was pleasantly surprised. "Then I'm honored. Thank you."

He didn't refuse the gift. While a silk banner might not be expensive, the sentiment behind it was worth far more—it was priceless.

"Then we won't disturb you any longer," the woman said politely. "Say goodbye to Dr. Lopez, Anny."

"Bye, Brother John!"

"Goodbye, little Anny," John replied with a warm smile.

He stood by the doorway, watching the mother and daughter leave. That smile still lingered on his lips.

Perhaps this was the purest joy of being a doctor—healing lives, bringing peace to families.

But just as the pair were about to disappear from view, John's smile faded. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a man lurking behind them, moving in a suspicious manner.

His expression turned grim. He quickly turned to Tracy and said, "Sister, I'll step out for a moment."

Then he slipped out of the clinic and began tailing the man from a distance.

Sure enough, the man was following the mother and daughter.

They were completely unaware.

Eventually, the pair reached a rundown shantytown.

Even from a distance, John could hear raised voices—a heated argument.

His heart tensed as he rushed forward.

What he saw made his blood boil.

The woman was crouched on the ground, cradling the little girl protectively. A fresh red handprint burned across her cheek. The girl trembled in her arms, crying with fear.

The man was still shouting, his face twisted in fury. He raised his arm again, clearly intending to strike the woman once more.

John's rage exploded. He charged forward, caught the man's fist mid-air, and delivered a powerful kick that sent him sprawling.

"A man's hands are meant to protect women—not to hit them, you bastard," John growled through gritted teeth.

The man scrambled to his feet, stunned. "Who the hell are you?! This is a family matter! Stay the hell out of it!"

He lunged toward John, picking up a wooden bench and hurling it at him.

John didn't even flinch. He caught the bench in mid-air and hurled it right back, striking the man in the chest.

"You beat your wife, your own daughter—you're no man. Let me teach you what it means to be human."

With that, John stormed forward and rained blows upon the man, thrashing him with the bench until it finally shattered into pieces.

"Shit!" the man cursed, panting as he staggered to his feet. "Wait right here! You two, too! Don't think you've gotten away with this—I'll be back!"

He stumbled off, limping away while shouting threats. It was clear he was going to call for reinforcements.

John exhaled sharply, tamping down the fury still boiling in his chest. He turned to the woman, his voice softening. "What's going on? Why is he following you?"

The woman wept quietly for a moment, then began to explain.

The man, as it turned out, was her husband—Anny's father. But he had never fulfilled the responsibilities of a husband or a father. He was a habitual drunk, and each time he got intoxicated—or simply irritated—he would unleash his temper on the mother and child.

A scumbag in every sense.

The woman had long wanted to divorce him, but every time she mentioned it, he would beat her senseless. Sometimes, even little Anny was caught in the crossfire.

Desperate to protect her daughter from lasting trauma, she had secretly moved homes multiple times.

But the man always managed to track them down.

Now, they were out of options. They were cornered—helpless and terrified.