The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 188

What would Yu Qingsong do when he woke up? Would he withdraw from the Chinese Medicine Association? Jiang Fei didn’t know, nor did he particularly care. And honestly, neither did anyone else.

Because the Chinese Medicine Association’s Medical Duel Competition was about to begin. This year’s event was unlike those of the past, which had been purely for academic exchange—where camaraderie came first and competition second. Sure, there might have been some underhanded rivalry between different interest groups, but things never got too heated, and everyone deliberately held back their true skills.

It was like a duel between martial arts masters—unless it was a life-or-death battle, why would anyone reveal their ultimate techniques?

A light sparring match was enough.

What if, during a friendly exchange, you exposed all your secrets? What if someone learned them or figured out a way to counter them? Wouldn’t that be a losing gamble?

This was how traditional Chinese medicine often worked. Many practitioners guarded their knowledge jealously. Even among peers or disciples, unless they were close family, masters rarely passed down their full expertise.

As the old Chinese saying goes: “Teach your apprentice everything, and you’ll starve to death!”

Many in the TCM world took this to heart. For an average disciple to learn their master’s true skills, it would take over a decade of grueling apprenticeship.

This outdated mindset was one reason why younger TCM practitioners today were often less skilled, with only the older generation maintaining true mastery. It was also why countless invaluable medical insights and prescriptions from ancient times had been lost to history.

But this year’s Medical Duel Competition would be different.

The state of Chinese medicine was now too precarious to hold anything back. Many young talents had been secretly instructed by their masters or elders to go all out—no reservations, no restraint. Some factions had even set incentives: anyone who stood out in this competition and became one of the seven representatives to face the Western medicine exchange team would receive substantial rewards.

No, not some mythical martial arts manual—this wasn’t a wuxia novel.

The rewards were far more tangible—and tempting. Think luxury sports cars worth millions, or cold, hard cash in the same range.

With such stakes, the young prodigies of the Chinese Medicine Association were fired up, eager to defeat Jiang Fei, the newly crowned “King of Acupuncture.”

However, the competition wouldn’t take place at the Association’s headquarters.

A medical duel required patients to treat—how else could doctors compete? The headquarters was just a meeting place, more like an office building than a clinic. So, the contestants would have to relocate to Beijing Tongrentang, a renowned traditional pharmacy.

Yes, the famous Tongrentang had deep ties to the Chinese Medicine Association—so deep that some of the Association’s decisions could influence the pharmacy’s operations.

And so, a grand procession of nearly a hundred people set off in their luxury cars toward the destination.

Thankfully, they didn’t travel in one massive convoy. If all twenty or thirty of those million-yuan vehicles had rolled out together, even in a city as grand as Beijing, it would’ve turned heads.

People might’ve assumed some tycoons were passing through—when in reality, it was just a bunch of traditional doctors, cornered by the rising dominance of Western medicine.

Jiang Fei had planned to ride with Cui Xiuping in his BMW, since Cui had no other companions.

But just as he was about to get in, the seductive and mesmerizing leader of the Fire Spirit School, Yu Ruzhi, approached and stopped him.

She closed the BMW’s rear door, then smiled at Cui Xiuping. “Young Master Cui, why don’t you go ahead? I’ll make sure Dr. Jiang gets to Tongrentang safely.”

Cui Xiuping blinked, glancing between her and Jiang Fei, before nodding and driving off alone.

Only then did Yu Ruzhi turn to Jiang Fei with an inviting smile. “If you don’t mind, Dr. Jiang, why not ride with me?”

“Sure,” Jiang Fei replied flatly.

What choice did he have? She’d already sent Cui Xiuping away, and he didn’t have his own car. If he refused, he’d have to hail a taxi.

But he was curious—why was this woman so fixated on him? From the moment they met, she’d been throwing him suggestive glances. Even if women in their thirties or forties were at their most… assertive, she was being blatantly obvious.

Was she after his Divine Needle Techniques?

Then it hit him. Back at the Association’s headquarters, Elder Cui and Kong Yun of the Danxi School had mentioned Yu Qinghou—the previous “King of Acupuncture” and the last known master of the Divine Needle Techniques.

Yu Qinghou. Yu Ruzhi. Same surname. Could there be a connection?

Was this alluring leader of the Fire Spirit School a descendant of Yu Qinghou?

Yu Ruzhi’s ride was a Porsche Cayenne, worth about 1.5 million yuan.

Jiang Fei couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. How is everyone in this Association so rich? He’d thought his million-yuan savings made him well-off, but after seeing these luxury cars, he realized he couldn’t even afford one.

I really need to speed up my medical empire’s expansion when I get back.

Out of habit, Jiang Fei moved to sit in the back—but Yu Ruzhi blocked the door again. Her eyes, still youthful and bright, sparkled with playful reproach.

“Really? You’re going to sit in the back like I’m your chauffeur?”

“Right. Front seat it is,” Jiang Fei conceded, switching sides.

“Much better,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat.

After the first wave of cars had left, their group followed a few minutes later.

On the road, Yu Ruzhi kept stealing glances at Jiang Fei, her lips curled in an enigmatic smile. She didn’t speak—just watched him like a cat eyeing its prey.

Jiang Fei grew uneasy under her gaze. He felt like some innocent kid being teased by an experienced older woman—completely out of his depth. Worse, her distracted driving made him nervous.

Female drivers…

He tightened his seatbelt and cleared his throat. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

Yu Ruzhi giggled. “You’re smart, Dr. Jiang. I’m sure you’ve already guessed.”

How does she know I’m smart?

Keeping a straight face, he replied, “The Divine Needle Techniques?”

“See? Brilliant,” she praised. “Though, I must say, I’m also impressed by your many talents. Not just your medical skills, but your piano mastery too. An internationally acclaimed virtuoso—truly remarkable.”

So she had been following the entertainment news. She knew about his scandal with Qiao Yiyi.

This woman was sharp.

But Jiang Fei didn’t take the bait. He doubted she genuinely admired his piano skills—this was just flattery.

“Are you interested in the Divine Needle Techniques? Or is there a connection between you and Yu Qinghou?” he cut straight to the point.

“Don’t call me ‘Leader Yu.’ It sounds strange coming from you,” she deflected. “If you don’t mind, just call me Sister Yu—or Sister Ruzhi.”

Sister Yu? More like a femme fatale.

“Sister Ruzhi it is,” he agreed.

“Good,” she said, covering her mouth with a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment. At least you don’t think I’m over the hill.”

“If you’re ‘over the hill,’ then the term ‘mature woman’ might as well not exist,” Jiang Fei quipped.

“Oh, you charmer!” she teased, clearly delighted.

After a moment, she finally turned serious.

“You’re right. I am interested in the Divine Needle Techniques. And yes, there’s a link to Yu Qinghou. The shared surname makes it obvious, no? But I’m not his descendant. Though without him, I wouldn’t be here.”

Not his descendant? But she wouldn’t exist without him?

Did Yu Qinghou play the role of the ‘neighbor Wang’ back in the day?

Jiang Fei’s mind wandered into inappropriate territory—but he kept that thought to himself. Antagonizing her mid-drive seemed unwise.

Yu Ruzhi continued, her tone now earnest.

“My great-grandfather was an orphan. Yu Qinghou saved his life—without him, my great-grandfather would’ve died young. Later, Yu Qinghou took him in, though not as a disciple or adopted son. Just a little medicine assistant. My great-grandfather chose the surname ‘Yu’ later, in honor of him.”

She gave a brief account of her family’s history with Yu Qinghou—then suddenly, her gaze turned sharp.

“My great-grandfather said Yu Qinghou never took disciples. He never taught anyone the Divine Needle Techniques. So, Dr. Jiang… where did you learn them?”