The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 189

Jiang Fei was, of course, not the successor of Yu Qinghou. In fact, he had never even heard the name before today. His “Divine Needle Eight Techniques” certainly weren’t inherited from Yu Qinghou either.

Moreover, Jiang Fei hadn’t yet fully mastered the Divine Needle Eight Techniques. With his medical skills only at level seven, he could currently perform only the first four techniques. The remaining techniques would likely require another level-up before he could use them. Fortunately, his proficiency was nearly maxed out, and it wouldn’t be long before he reached level eight.

Once that happened, Jiang Fei estimated he’d be able to wield the complete Divine Needle Eight Techniques, truly earning the title of its successor.

“You’re asking me where I learned the Divine Needle Eight Techniques? It’s simple—I picked it up from an ancient book,” Jiang Fei said casually, as if it were no big deal.

But Yu Ruzhi’s enchanting eyes suddenly sharpened, burning with curiosity as she stared at him. “An ancient book? Where did you get it?”

Jiang Fei chuckled, reminiscing. “Ah, that’s a long story. It was the summer when I was five. I had a single yuan in my pocket, a gift from my grandma, and I went to the general store in town to buy an ice pop. On my way home, I passed through a narrow alley and met a long-haired, ragged beggar. He stopped me and said, ‘Hey, kid, I can tell from your bone structure that you’re a once-in-a-lifetime medical prodigy. The duty of healing the world falls on you now. I have this secret manual, the Divine Needle Eight Techniques—priceless, but since fate brought us together, I’ll sell it to you for ten yuan!’ But after buying the ice pop, I only had fifty cents left. So, after some haggling, I got it for fifty cents…”

At first, Yu Ruzhi’s face lit up with excitement, thinking Jiang Fei was about to reveal the truth. But as he continued, her expression darkened, and she finally glared at him in annoyance. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

Jiang Fei shrugged helplessly. “It’s the truth. If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing I can do. If I ever run into that old beggar again, I’ll bring him to meet you—then you’ll see. Honestly, I regret not buying more from him. He had other manuals too, like the ‘Nine Swords of Dugu’ and the ‘Nine Yin Manual.’ Too bad I was broke back then…”

Watching Jiang Fei’s utterly sincere, wistful expression, Yu Ruzhi’s delicate face flushed with anger. “Jiang Fei, little brother, do you think I’ve never seen Kung Fu Hustle?”

Jiang Fei blinked in surprise. “You’ve seen it too? Doesn’t that scene match my story perfectly? Right?!”

“……”

“Years later, when I watched Kung Fu Hustle, I was baffled too. How did they steal my life story and put it on the big screen? They didn’t even pay me royalties!”

“Now I know why you fit right into the entertainment industry. Who would’ve thought China’s greatest actor was hiding in plain sight?” Yu Ruzhi rolled her eyes, then turned her attention back to driving, refusing to indulge his nonsense any further.

She now understood Jiang Fei a little better—there was no way he’d casually reveal the origins of the Divine Needle Eight Techniques.

Of course, just because he wouldn’t tell her now didn’t mean he never would. Yu Ruzhi had complete confidence in her charm.

“Me? An actor? I’ve always been on the idol track,” Jiang Fei said with a grin, gazing out the window.

…

The car didn’t stop right in front of Tongrentang Pharmacy but instead parked in a nearby lot. From there, they walked over to avoid drawing attention—after all, dozens of luxury cars gathering outside a traditional medicine shop in just ten minutes would raise eyebrows.

While wealth wasn’t something to flaunt in the medical profession, neither was it wise to be too ostentatious. Doctors were supposed to be noble, after all—even if they made good money, showing off was in poor taste.

Upon entering the pharmacy, Jiang Fei and Yu Ruzhi were greeted by staff and led to a large back room, usually reserved for meetings and breaks. It had been temporarily rearranged, with long tables and chairs set up in the center for the competing young physicians.

Several young women bustled about, serving tea and ensuring everything ran smoothly.

Jiang Fei was among the second group to arrive. After a short wait, the rest of the Chinese Medical Association members filed in.

Once preparations were complete, Kong Yun, leader of the Danxi School, stepped forward. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s begin the Medical Duel Competition.”

“This year is different—only twenty-some young talents are participating, fewer than usual. So instead of dividing into groups, all competitors will face off together in three rounds. The judges—myself, the leaders of the other two major schools, and the esteemed Elder Cui—will select the top seven based on overall performance. These seven will represent Chinese medicine in the exchange with Western medicine practitioners in two weeks!”

“Patients will be randomly assigned, covering conditions like deficiencies, external pathogens, internal heat, cold syndromes, qi stagnation, digestive issues, and more. Treatment methods—herbal prescriptions, acupuncture, massage, cupping, qigong, or dietary therapy—will also be randomly selected. Each round, physicians must use the assigned method. No repeats across rounds.”

As a first-time participant, Jiang Fei listened carefully. The rules seemed fair—no one could predict which method they’d get, eliminating bias. Some excelled in herbs, others in acupuncture or massage. Luck played a role, but with three rounds, even an unlucky draw could be offset later.

If someone failed in all three? Well, that just meant they had no business calling themselves a master physician.

After all, true mastery in Chinese medicine meant versatility. Struggling in one area was understandable, but failing in multiple? That was a skill issue.

No one raised objections, so Kong Yun continued. “The patients are ready. Elder Cui will now draw the first round’s treatment method!”

Having the revered Elder Cui oversee the draw ensured fairness—no one would doubt his integrity.

“First round: Dietary Therapy!” Elder Cui announced, unfolding the slip of paper.

Staff quickly ushered in patients—those with hypertension, skin conditions, thyroid nodules, fatty liver, and similar issues.

Jiang Fei glanced around. None of the competitors seemed fazed.

“Guess they’re all confident, even with dietary therapy,” he mused.

A ponytailed woman beside him, her blouse embroidered with flames, teased, “Hey, ‘Acupuncture King,’ what if none of the rounds involve needles? Can you handle it?”

Jiang Fei smirked. “I never said I was only good at acupuncture.”

“We’ll see,” she shot back.

Dietary therapy wasn’t obscure in Chinese medicine—many believed “food surpasses medicine.” It was safe, painless, affordable, and free of side effects. With rising incomes, it had only grown in popularity.

The first patient was a heavyset man, about 170 cm tall but easily 100 kg. He froze upon seeing the crowd.

“All these people… are doctors?”

He’d been told experts would examine him for free, but this felt more like being a lab rat. Still, the promise of free treatment and extra benefits kept him compliant as each competitor took turns checking his pulse.

Jiang Fei went last. After just a few seconds of pulse-taking—without even asking questions—he nodded. “Thank you. I’ve got what I need.”

Murmurs broke out.

“A few seconds? That’s it?”

“He didn’t even ask anything. Skipped ‘inquiry’ entirely?”

“Feels a bit like showing off…”

“Let’s hope this ‘Acupuncture King’ doesn’t embarrass himself.”