Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 1359

Forty minutes flew by, and the crowd collectively stretched their necks, eager to see The Golden Cure finally completed.

Mosby clapped his hands together, brushing off the last bits of herbal residue, and let out a hearty laugh. "Done! Dr. Bozzelli, Andrew, it looks like I'm taking the lead!"

At this critical stage, regular examiners were no longer qualified to assess the results. Preston and Clifford stepped forward personally to conduct the final evaluations.

Clifford announced, peering into the simmering cauldron, "Dr. Lake's The Golden Cure has 305 ingredients. The color is excellent, and the medicinal effects are remarkable. You pass!"

The declaration triggered a wave of applause, particularly from Mosby's apprentices, whose cheers nearly shook the stadium.

Thomas' forehead beaded with cold sweat, and he also took his hands off the cauldron, signaling that he had finished.

Preston stepped over, leaning in for a closer look. "Dr. Bozzelli's Golden Cure has 280 ingredients. The color is decent, though slightly cloudy. The efficacy is acceptable. You pass."

Thomas exhaled deeply, feeling the crushing weight of anxiety finally lift from his chest. With that, only Andrew's Golden Cure remained unfinished.

Preston and Clifford strolled over to Andrew's station, their expressions darkening the moment they glanced into his pot.

"You little punk," Clifford spat, his eyes narrowing, "you've been fumbling around for hours, and you've barely thrown in 50 herbs! If you can't handle this, just admit defeat and stop wasting everyone's time! With this pitiful handful of ingredients, you dare call it the Golden Cure? At best, that's just a basic broth!"

The crowd erupted into laughter, their mockery echoing across the stands. The Advanced Medical Institute's students, known for their arrogance and lack of decorum, joined in with even louder jeers. Even Preston and Clifford, for all their seniority, made no effort to hide their disdain, their postures dripping with condescension.

Up in the VIP section, Derek let out a frustrated huff, a faint hint of anger coloring his features.

Chantelle sighed beside him. "Mr. McCormick, Mr. Lloyd has already done his best. The Advanced Medical Institute has been passing down medical knowledge for generations. For someone of Mr. Lloyd's age to compete against Mosby and the like is already a remarkable feat."

Derek gave a bitter chuckle. "Maybe I've been too idealistic, always believing that Andrew has the potential to be a once-in-a-century genius."