Saving Jorathon

Alon was still fuming when he got home. His anger was so intense that the servants greeting him barely dared to breathe, their curiosity piqued. 'Mr. Alon is usually even-tempered, so what has pushed him over the edge this time?'

In the living room, an old man with silver hair sat in a wheelchair, his eyes fixed on a report glowing on the screen before him.

"Is everything confirmed?" he asked, voice calm and slow.

Alon straightened up immediately. "Yes, the day after tomorrow, she'll come in person to treat you. She specifically requested the level-nine strength-enhancing plant."

"Good. I'll leave this to you," Jorathon replied, finally lifting his gaze to meet Alon's. "Alon, you're the heir I've chosen. Don't let me down."

"Of course," Alon answered, his tone serious.

Without wasting a moment, he went off to contact the top doctors on Planet Nagano, ensuring that all the necessary equipment was prepared and on standby.