The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 194

Winning first place in two consecutive rounds of competition—this wasn’t just unheard of for an outsider, but even within the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) Association, no one had ever achieved such a feat in the annual Medical Duel Tournament!

Even someone as exceptional as Cui Xiuping, the heir to the legendary “Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles” and hailed as “Young Master Cui the Divine Doctor,” would consider it a great accomplishment to secure first place just once in these competitions. Take today’s two rounds, for example. Even if Jiang Fei hadn’t been there, removing him from the equation, Cui Xiuping would still only rank among the top eight—outstanding, yes, but not significantly ahead of the other young prodigies.

But to dominate two rounds in a row with an overwhelming, indisputable lead? That was unprecedented!

In the past, Cui Xiuping’s only clear advantage over others was in acupuncture. As the inheritor of the “Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles,” unless the “Divine Needle Eight Methods” or “Spirit Turtle Eight Methods” made an appearance, no one could really challenge him in that field.

The “Divine Needle Eight Methods” had been lost for over a century—until Jiang Fei appeared. As for the “Spirit Turtle Eight Methods,” they weren’t lost but remained tightly guarded by an ancient TCM family.

This family was even more arrogant than the Cui family. Due to a conflict with the TCM Association years ago, they decreed that none of their descendants would ever join the organization again.

For most TCM practitioners, joining the TCM Association was a great honor. But for these elite families? They couldn’t care less.

When Old Master Cui confirmed the child’s diagnosis—declaring that the boy did indeed have measles—the room erupted in excitement.

“He surpassed not only the young talents here but also us old-timers!”

Did this mean Old Master Cui was admitting Jiang Fei’s superiority?

Judging by the situation, yes. Jiang Fei had diagnosed the child’s condition through pulse-taking alone, while Old Master Cui, despite noticing irregularities in the pulse, only confirmed it after performing acupuncture.

The difference in skill was clear.

During the break between the second and third rounds, everyone was buzzing about this.

The twenty-some young competitors had lost their initial competitive fire. Now, they understood why Jiang Fei had to represent them in the upcoming Sino-Western Medical Exchange in two weeks.

This man, around their age or even younger, was already on a completely different level.

He wasn’t just the “Acupuncture King”—his mastery extended to every aspect of TCM, leaving them utterly outmatched.

Facing someone like him didn’t inspire a fighting spirit; it just made them feel hopeless.

Even Cui Xiuping’s confidence wavered.

The first loss could be blamed on underestimating Jiang Fei, a habitual mistake. But this second round? The gap in skill was undeniable. Jiang Fei’s medical prowess was unfathomable—how could they even hope to catch up?

How am I supposed to diagnose a disease in its latent stage just by taking a pulse? I’m not a high-tech machine!

As for the young women in the room, their gazes at Jiang Fei grew noticeably more… intense, making him slightly uncomfortable.

The Third Round: Massage Therapy

By the third round, the outcome was already decided. Even if Jiang Fei lost this round, his stellar performance in the first two guaranteed him a spot in the Sino-Western Medical Exchange.

Most competitors had given up on defeating him. Instead, they secretly hoped the final round would be acupuncture, just so they could witness the legendary “Divine Needle Eight Methods” in action—and perhaps a showdown between it and the “Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles.”

Which of these two supreme acupuncture techniques would prevail?

But fate had other plans. The third round’s theme: massage therapy.

(Note: Massage therapy here refers to legitimate TCM therapeutic techniques, not the shady “massage parlors” found in red-light districts.)

TCM massage, or tuina, is a non-invasive natural treatment involving various hand techniques—pushing, grasping, pressing, rubbing, kneading, tapping—applied to acupoints and meridians to promote circulation, relieve pain, and restore balance.

Unlike the previous rounds, this one required one-on-one sessions. Twenty-four patients were brought in from Tongrentang Pharmacy’s branches across Beijing—no shortage of volunteers in a city of over 20 million.

Massage therapy isn’t just for sprains or arthritis. It can treat everything from trigeminal neuralgia to digestive disorders, insomnia, and even menstrual pain.

This time, Jiang Fei’s performance was relatively “normal”—no earth-shattering displays, though he still ranked near the top.

His patient was a 23-year-old shut-in, a web novelist who spent ten hours daily hunched over his computer, suffering from early-onset back pain, finger joint stiffness, and dry eyes.

Twenty minutes of targeted tuina later, the young man hopped off the table, miraculously pain-free—even his vision felt clearer.

“Holy crap, real TCM is amazing! The ‘massage’ places I went to before were total scams!” he exclaimed, hugging Jiang Fei enthusiastically.

Amused, Jiang Fei replied, “I doubt those places were focusing on your joints.”

The writer, Ye Datong, begged for Jiang Fei’s contact info, promising to feature him as the OP protagonist in his next novel—“With a harem of stunning heroines, of course!”

Jiang Fei chuckled. Truthfully, his life wasn’t far from fiction these days—surrounded by beautiful women, though taming them was another story…

…

By 5:30 PM, the competition ended.

The TCM Association hosted a dinner, but Jiang Fei skipped it. These people weren’t his crowd. He’d rather return to Jishitang Clinic and spend time with his girlfriend, Bai Ruoxi, who’d just started her new job.

House-hunting tomorrow. Jiang Fei sighed. Unlike those billionaire protagonists in novels, his savings of 1 million RMB (~$140K) wouldn’t buy squat in Beijing’s insane housing market. Renting a decent apartment would have to do.

But a car for Ruoxi? That he could manage.

“A journalist needs wheels,” he mused. When it came to his women, Jiang Fei never held back—if he could provide, he would.