The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 187

“Words must astonish, or silence is better”—this phrase perfectly captures the current scene.

A towering figure in traditional Chinese medicine (TCM), revered as the “Hand of the Ghost Gate” for his ability to pull patients back from death’s doorstep—a divine healer, a master of TCM—was now publicly declaring a man under thirty to be the true “King of Acupuncture”!

The statement left the hundreds of renowned physicians in the hall dumbfounded, jaws slack, eyes wide in disbelief.

Had the revered Elder Cui lost his mind?

If Jiang Fei truly deserved the title of “King of Acupuncture,” where did that leave the other young prodigies in the room—let alone the leaders of the three great schools, or even Elder Cui himself?

Granted, Jiang Fei’s medical skills might stand out among his peers, unmatched in his generation—a rare feat, but not impossible.

But to claim that his abilities surpassed even the masters of the three great schools and Elder Cui? That was nothing short of ludicrous!

Yu Qingsong’s aged face twitched, his mouth hanging open in speechless shock. Kong Yun and Yan Xiping, the leaders of the two ancient schools, were equally stunned by Cui Qinghe’s sudden proclamation.

Even Jiang Fei himself raised an eyebrow, his gaze questioning as he studied Elder Cui. What was the old master’s real intention?

Was this meant to help him—or to destroy him?

By making such a claim, Elder Cui had effectively placed Jiang Fei in direct opposition to the entire TCM community!

Already, Jiang Fei’s selection as the representative of the younger generation to face the Western medicine delegation had stirred discontent among the elite disciples of the three great schools and prominent families. They saw him as unworthy of representing them.

Now, instead of defending Jiang Fei, Elder Cui had personally endorsed him as the “King of Acupuncture.” What did that make the rest of the TCM Association?

Was this not a classic case of killing with praise?

To elevate someone to an unattainable height, only for others to drag him down—wasn’t that a surefire way to ensure a crushing fall?

Yet, amid the collective shock, one person remained unfazed, her expression calm and composed, a faint smile playing on her lips.

This was Yu Ruzhi, leader of the Fire God School.

Strangely, she seemed neither surprised nor skeptical of Jiang Fei’s title. Like Elder Cui, she appeared to believe it was well-deserved.

“Elder Cui,” Kong Yun, the portly leader of the Danxi School and the group’s usual spokesperson, recovered quickly. “You claim this young friend is the true ‘King of Acupuncture.’ May we ask why?”

Instead of answering directly, Elder Cui posed a question of his own: “How many here know the origin of the title ‘King of Acupuncture’?”

Kong Yun’s voice grew solemn. “In ancient times, it’s unclear who held the title. But in modern history, over a century ago, there was a legendary TCM master—Yu Qinghou. His skills were divine, unmatched in his era. Unlike imperial physicians who served the elite, Yu Qinghou treated the poor and suffering, healing countless with nothing but silver needles. At the time, Western medicine was still in its infancy, and his reputation spread even overseas. He was hailed as a modern-day Hua Tuo—the greatest TCM master in over a hundred years. And his most revered title? ‘King of Acupuncture.’”

Elder Cui nodded. “And what acupuncture technique did Master Yu employ?”

Kong Yun frowned, puzzled by the question but answered nonetheless: “Legends say he mastered the ‘Eight Divine Needles.’ But after his passing, the technique was lost. Even so, in his honor, the ‘Eight Divine Needles’ was enshrined alongside ‘Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles’ and ‘Eight Spirit Turtle Methods’ as the three supreme techniques of TCM. But… Elder Cui, why ask this?”

As Kong Yun spoke, the audience—especially the younger physicians—listened intently. Many knew of the Eight Divine Needles’ legendary status, but few realized its connection to Yu Qinghou.

Even Jiang Fei himself had been unaware.

Elder Cui smiled. “Exactly. For over a century, only Yu Qinghou—revered even by Western doctors—earned the title ‘King of Acupuncture.’ Out of respect, no one since has dared claim it.”

His tone and expression hinted at something monumental. The sharper minds in the room began piecing together the puzzle.

“Elder Cui, are you saying…?” Yan Xiping, bespectacled leader of the Attack Evil School, glanced at Jiang Fei, his shock deepening.

“Indeed. Jiang Fei is the inheritor of the Eight Divine Needles—the first in over a century since Yu Qinghou. So, as his successor, is it not fitting to call him ‘King of Acupuncture’?” Cui Xiuping said with a chuckle.

“This—!”

The room erupted in gasps. No one had expected this twist.

Yu Qingsong’s face burned with humiliation. Back in Jincheng, his friend Ge Fangping had mentioned Jiang Fei’s use of the Eight Divine Needles to save General Ye Zhennan. But Yu Qingsong had dismissed it, never connecting the technique to Yu Qinghou.

Now, the honorary plaque gifted to Jiang Fei by patients—”King of Acupuncture”—suddenly made perfect sense.

His shame was unbearable.

Yet the crowd’s attention wasn’t on him. All eyes were on Jiang Fei, their expressions a mix of awe, skepticism, and challenge.

If Jiang Fei truly possessed the Eight Divine Needles, his status rivaled even Cui Xiuping’s—the sole inheritor of the Ghost Gate Needles. And given the technique’s rarity, Jiang Fei’s prestige might even surpass Cui’s.

After all, scarcity breeds value.

And if the Eight Divine Needles could reclaim their former glory, would they not overshadow the other two supreme techniques?

Kong Yun narrowed his eyes. “If Jiang Fei indeed wields the lost Eight Divine Needles, then the title is justified. But Elder Cui, how can you be certain?”

His gaze flicked to Yu Ruzhi, suspicion dawning.

“The ‘how’ is unimportant. What matters is the truth.” Elder Cui turned to Jiang Fei. “Young friend, am I wrong?”

How would I know if Yu Qinghou was real? Jiang Fei thought wryly. But aloud, he said: “I do know the Eight Divine Needles.”

“Good.” Elder Cui beamed before addressing the crowd. “Then, regarding Jiang Fei’s participation in the upcoming medical competition—any objections?”

“None!” The younger generation, including Cui Xiuping, responded eagerly, their eyes alight with competitive fire.

To them, Jiang Fei was now the ultimate challenge—a stepping stone to fame.

Defeating the “King of Acupuncture” would cement their own legacies.

They hungered for the fight.

Suddenly, a cry rang out:

“Someone help! Yu Qingsong has fainted!”

“It’s just rage-induced. Press his philtrum—he’ll wake up.”

“Tsk. Such poor temperament.”

“Do you think he’ll resign from the association?”

“…”