Teardrops sshed onto Michael Ashworth''s pale hand as Isabelle clutched it desperately. Her shoulders trembled with each silent sob. I stood behind her, feeling utterly helpless as the family doctor shook his head.


    "I''m sorry, Ms. Ashworth. We''ve done everything possible." The doctor''s voice was solemn. "His condition has deteriorated beyond our ability to treat. It''s only a matter of time now."


    Isabelle''s quiet whimpers tore at my heart. The bedroom felt suffocating—filled with Ashworth family members whose expressions ranged from genuine grief to calcted indifference.


    Corbin stepped forward, his face a perfect mask of sorrow. "How could this happen so suddenly? He was fine earlier today."


    The doctor adjusted his sses. "His organs are shutting down. It appears he''s been hiding his condition for months."


    Corbin''s eyes darted to me, narrowing with usation. "It''s rather coincidental that his copse urred immediately after being alone with an outsider."


    I met his gaze without flinching. "Your father was already ill when we entered his study. I tried to help him."


    "Help him?" Corbin''s voice rose dramatically. "With what? Those strange needles you were using on him?"


    Several family members muttered among themselves, their suspicion palpable.


    Isabelle turned toward her uncle, her tear-streaked face hardening. "Stop it, Uncle Corbin. Liam would never harm Grandfather."


    "Your judgment is clouded by emotion," Corbin replied smoothly. "This man appears conveniently whenever our family faces trouble."


    I stayed silent, watching Michael''s face. Something wasn''t right. Despite his deteriorating vital signs, I noticed a faint, almost imperceptible light flickering across his forehead—visible only to my enhanced perception.


    My heart raced. That light—I''d seen it before in my medical texts. It was a sign of divine sense, still present even as the body failed.


    "He''s not gone yet," I whispered, moving closer to the bed.


    All eyes turned to me.


    "What did you say?" Isabelle asked, her voice fragile with hope.


    I ced my hand above Michael''s head, feeling the faint energy signature. "His divine sense still remains. His consciousness hasn''t dissipatedpletely."


    Corbin scoffed. "More mystical nonsense. Doctor, please exin to my niece that false hope is crueler than eptance."


    The doctor looked ufortable. "Modern medicine doesn''t recognize the concept of divine sense, but—"


    "I can save him," I interrupted, certainty filling my voice.


    Isabelle''s eyes widened. "How? The doctors said—"


    "Not through conventional methods," I exined, my mind racing through the ancient knowledge stored in my memories. "There''s a formation I learned about in Earth Fiend Valley—the Resurrection Formation."


    "Resurrection?" Corbin''s voice dripped with mockery. "Next you''ll im you can raise the dead."


    "Not exactly resurrection," I rified, ignoring his tone. "But a transfer. His divine sense—his consciousness, memories, everything that makes him who he is—can be preserved if we act quickly."


    A glimmer of desperate hope flickered in Isabelle''s eyes. "What do we need to do?"


    "We need to take him to a ce where I can establish the formation. And we''ll need..." I hesitated, knowing how it would sound. "We''ll need a host body."


    The room erupted in outraged murmurs.


    "This is sphemy!" Corbin thundered. "He wants to desecrate my father''s body for some ult ritual!"


    "It''s not desecration," I countered firmly. "It''s his only chance."


    Isabelle stood up, her tear-stained face suddenly resolute. "If there''s even the slightest chance to save Grandfather, we must take it."


    Corbin stepped between us and the bed. "I will not allow my father''s body to be used for your dark experiments! This man has clearly lost his mind, Isabelle. Can''t you see he''s manipting your grief?"


    I met Corbin''s gaze directly. "Or perhaps you''re afraid."


    "Afraid?" His face reddened. "Of what?"


    "That if Michael returns, your bid for family leadership ends before it begins."


    The room fell silent. I''d struck at the heart of Corbin''s true agenda—one that everyone suspected but no one dared mention.


    Dominic Ashworth, Corbin''s son, surprisingly stepped forward. "Father, if there''s any possibility that Grandfather can be saved, shouldn''t we at least consider it?"


    Other family members began nodding in agreement. Public opinion was shifting. <b ss="in-imprint-a">This chapter was first seen on *.</b>


    Corbin''s eyes darted around the room, calcting. His shoulders slumped in apparent surrender.


    "Fine," he said, voice heavy with reluctance. "If this is what the family wants, I won''t stand in the way. But when this fails—and it will fail—remember that I tried to protect my father''s dignity."


    Isabelle gripped my hand tightly, her eyes searching mine. "Can you really save him?"


    "I''ll do everything in my power," I promised, squeezing her hand in return. "We need to move quickly."


    As we began making preparations to transport Michael, Corbin pulled his most trusted advisor aside, their backs turned to the room.


    "Is this wise, sir?" the advisor whispered. "If by some miracle he seeds—"


    Corbin''s lips curled into a cold smile. "Let''s not even talk about whether or not he can revive my dad. Even if he does, so what? The body, the appearance, even the voice will be changed. How can he prove that a stranger is my dad?"


    The advisor''s eyes widened in understanding.


    "Let him try," Corbin continued, his voice barely audible. "His failure will discredit him forever in Isabelle''s eyes. And if, by some dark magic, he seeds..." He gave a dismissive shrug. "A stranger iming to be Michael Ashworth will never reim his position in this family. Either way, I win."


    Unaware of this sinister conversation, Isabelle and I carefully prepared for what would be my greatest challenge yet—bringing back a man whose body had already begun its journey into death, while his most ambitious son secretly plotted to ensure that even sess would mean failure.