Chapter 375: Chapter 375: The Sheridan Family’s Ancestral Spiritual Medicine
After glaring at the annoying "fly", Ann Vaughn ignored her and turned to the frail-looking "Young Master Crawford," saying, "You’ve got something tucked under your armpit, making it impossible to check your pulse, right?"
"Moreover, your health is perfectly fine; there’s nothing wrong with you. If Young Master Crawford were indeed so ill that he needed medical attention, then surely, you’re not really Young Master Crawford."
The faces of the "Young Master Crawford" and his assistant suddenly changed.
Before they could speak, Cynthia Sheridan was about to mock them, but Sherry instantly shouted at her, "Shut up, or I’ll stuff your mouth with a rag if you continue to squabble!"
Cynthia Sheridan: What the hell are you talking about???
"You’re the first to notice," the assistant looked impressed, "Indeed, this person is not our young master. Our master had encountered many harmful quack doctors before, and dared not risk again, thus resorting to this desperate measure."
Once he finished speaking, the "Young Master Crawford" pulled out what was under his armpit—a tomato.
What a bizarre method...
"We’re counting on you to treat the young master’s illness; please follow me," the assistant said, leading the way.
As Ann Vaughn got up, Cynthia Sheridan’s sharp voice stopped her, making her ears ache, "Wait!"
The assistant paused and turned, looking at her puzzled. "Miss, someone will soon come to deliver your fee for the visit, then you can leave. Is there anything else?"
"I noticed long ago that this person had something under his armpit and was not Young Master Crawford. Just because I was behind this woman and didn’t manage to say, doesn’t mean you should overlook me as the owner of The Snowbell Clinic."
Cynthia Sheridan continued arrogantly, "Moreover, I have a medicine that will make the disease go away instantly upon taking it!"
Realizing she was the owner of The Snowbell Clinic, the assistant guessed her identity and immediately changed his tone, "Oh, it’s Miss Sheridan, my apologies. Please come with us."
"Hmph, that’s more like it." Cynthia lifted her chin proudly and walked past Ann Vaughn.
Ann Vaughn: "..."
Why is her hand so itchy?
Inside the room, the real Young Master Crawford was sitting at the desk reading, looking even paler than the fake "Young Master Crawford", occasionally coughing, his face flushing momentarily and then paling again.
The room was filled with a rich, pungent smell of medicine.
The assistant led them to the door but didn’t enter. "Our young master isn’t seriously ill, actually. Here is the medical record. Might you have any treatment options?"
Cynthia quickly snatched the medical record, and after reading it, she nearly threw it away, stepping back a few paces, "Lung cancer is just a small illness?!"
Hearing her words, Ann Vaughn asked the assistant, "This illness can be treated at the hospital nowadays; why haven’t you taken him there?"
"Our young master has advanced lung cancer, with little chance of cure, and he dislikes Western medicine, believing it’s suffering, so we invited many traditional medicine practitioners," the assistant explained truthfully.
So that’s the case.
Ann Vaughn nodded; there indeed was no cure at other places, but she believed she might have a solution.
"Did you bring that thing?" Ann Vaughn turned to ask Sherry.
"I thought it might come in handy, so I brought it," Sherry nodded.
"That’s good."
If she hadn’t brought it, going back and forth would waste considerable time, which the patient couldn’t afford.
Just as Ann Vaughn was about to say something to the assistant, Cynthia Sheridan pulled out a wooden box containing a brown pill.
"This is our family’s ancestral Spiritual Medicine; just one pill can cure any ailment."
The Sheridan family’s ancestral Spiritual Medicine?!
The assistant’s eyes lit up; everyone knew the Sheridan family was Marinia’s wealthiest, their deep heritage unimaginable.
Many ancient legends supposedly originated from the Sheridan family, like the Phoenix Tail Bone, Dragon Pattern Pearl, and Mariner’s Tear, initially discovered by them.
Though likely embellished, a powerful and wealthy family’s ancestral medicine could hardly be underestimated.
Ann Vaughn also observed the "Spiritual Medicine" nearby, taking a gentle sniff of the air, detecting a sweet and refreshing scent, a feeling of delight.
It’s more akin to a tonic; it offers little help against lung cancer.
The assistant accepted the Spiritual Medicine from Cynthia and promptly arranged for someone to test it and ensure there were no issues before administering it to Young Master Crawford.
After he took the medicine, the assistant asked eagerly, "Young Master, how do you feel now?"
"Sweet, like candy."
"..."
Cynthia stubbornly insisted it might take at least half an hour for the medicine to take effect. The assistant could only ask Ann Vaughn to wait for half an hour.
If its effect really happens, great; if not...
Their only hope would rest on Ann Vaughn.
Ann Vaughn didn’t mind; she was curious whether the tonic might have any effect on Young Master Crawford’s body.
Seeing Cynthia’s expression, it seemed she treated that thing like a miracle pill.
Half an hour later, the family doctor checked Young Master Crawford and shook his head at the assistant.
"Impossible!" Cynthia’s face changed, unable to believe the Spiritual Medicine she worked so hard to obtain from the Sheridan family was useless!
"The time must be too short; just wait another hour, no, just one day! Once the medicine takes effect, your family’s young master will definitely recover!"
Does that sound reasonable?
Young Master Crawford was barely hanging on day by day; he couldn’t afford to wait!
The assistant’s face nearly turned green; if not constrained by Cynthia’s status as the Sheridan family’s lady, he would have scolded already.
He turned to Ann Vaughn and bowed, "Miss Vaughn, we’re counting on you."
Ann Vaughn nodded lightly, "I’ll give it my best shot."
"What could she possibly do? Dreaming." Cynthia sneered coldly.
The Sheridan family’s ancestral Spiritual Medicine couldn’t cure this Young Master Crawford, suggesting he was destined to die young.
Unless Ann Vaughn had divine intervention, it wasn’t possible to save him.
With this thought, Cynthia left with her phone, sending a message to Jane Sheridan.
No matter how much Cynthia mocked, Ann Vaughn remained unfazed, handing the cancer cell inhibitor over to the assistant, "Let Young Master Crawford give it a try."
The inhibitor was scarce and took Ann Vaughn nearly a year to begin making progress.
Once Young Master Crawford took the inhibitor, Ann Vaughn continued recording his pulse.
Minute by minute, Young Master Crawford’s coughing frequency gradually reduced, and the painful expression threatening to hack out his lungs eased significantly.