Jiang Fei thought that Old Doctor Cui was truly an extraordinary man. Not only was his medical skill divine and his ethics admirable, but he was also undeniably a wise elder.
Jiang Fei hadn’t expected that when he bluntly pointed out the problems within the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) Association and its disgraceful state, someone would admit it without hesitation.
This left him at a loss for words.
“Every old man is far from simple,” Jiang Fei mused silently.
Dealing with someone who only made excuses after making a mistake was easy—it would have given Jiang Fei a justified reason to refuse joining the TCM Association. But when the wrongdoer acknowledged their faults, pressing further would make him seem unreasonable.
“The TCM Association has done too little, and what little we’ve done, we’ve done poorly. The decline of TCM to its current state is undeniably our responsibility!”
Cui Qinghe’s face showed no shame, only regret. He continued, “We took the wrong path in the past, and now, we can’t even elect a president with absolute authority. We haven’t completely succumbed to greed, yet profit has invisibly bound us, making reform impossible. This is the tragedy of the TCM Association.”
Yan Xiping and Kong Yun’s faces twitched, their anger stifled before it could erupt. They had lashed out at Jiang Fei, but they wouldn’t dare challenge Old Doctor Cui.
Though Cui held only an honorary title in the association—without real power—his influence was unmatched, not just within the TCM Association but across the entire field of traditional medicine.
When Jiang Fei spoke the truth, they grew furious and defensive. But when Cui laid bare the facts, they could only bow their heads in shame.
Yu Ruzhi, however, seemed detached from the matter, unlike her two counterparts. Her gaze, both alluring and solemn, remained fixed on Jiang Fei—the inheritor of the Divine Needle Eight Techniques, a man deeply connected to her Yu family.
“However—” Old Doctor Cui’s tone shifted, his sharp eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. “The TCM Association isn’t as hopeless as you think. While our efforts have been insufficient, some things aren’t as simple as ‘trying harder.’ Even if we gave our all, the state of TCM wouldn’t improve drastically. Surely, you don’t believe we alone bear the full blame for TCM’s decline?”
Jiang Fei shook his head. “Western medicine’s global dominance has undoubtedly suppressed TCM in many ways.”
“Exactly!” Cui agreed. “Faced with such overwhelming pressure, many of us in the TCM Association want to resist but lack the strength. Just a month ago, we sent a delegation to Europe and America to promote TCM’s merits—only to suffer a crushing defeat.” His expression darkened with regret.
“TCM is profound. The wisdom and techniques left by our ancestors—like my Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles or your Divine Needle Eight Techniques—are still awe-inspiring. Meanwhile, a mere century ago, Western medicine paled in comparison. Yet now, they’ve advanced so rapidly that even we must acknowledge their strengths in many areas.”
“The only way to counter them is to nurture more talents in TCM. That’s why we need you, Jiang Fei, to join us!”
“Yes, the TCM Association has its flaws, but that’s no reason to abandon it. Isn’t refusing to join a form of surrender? If all young doctors turn away, who will stand against Western medicine in the future? Don’t you agree?”
Jiang Fei met Cui’s unwavering gaze, feeling somewhat speechless.
This revered master of the Ghost Gate Needles was even more persuasive than Kong Yun of the Danxi School. With just a few words, he’d made Jiang Fei feel like refusing to join would be a moral failing.
But Jiang Fei wasn’t so easily swayed.
His resolve to stay away from the TCM Association wouldn’t bend to eloquent arguments. His opinion of the association—rotten and mired in stagnation—wouldn’t change overnight.
He’d seen enough deception in the world. He wasn’t a fresh graduate blinded by ideals.
The TCM Association was corrupt, trapped in a quagmire of self-interest. Jiang Fei wanted to earn money, yes—but not by joining such a group.
If given the choice, he’d sooner establish his own organization than wallow in the same muck as these people.
He rarely acted self-righteous, but he despised those who grew fat on profits while neglecting their duties. Weren’t they just like corrupt officials?
So, despite Cui’s plea, Jiang Fei remained unmoved.
“As a TCM practitioner, I’ll contribute to the field—like participating in the upcoming exchange to restore TCM’s honor. But that has nothing to do with joining the association. I can serve TCM without being a member.”
Kong Yun and Yan Xiping could no longer hold back.
“Do you really think we’re begging you to join?” Kong Yun’s voice dripped with disdain. “The TCM Association may not be perfect, but it’s not so desperate as to lower itself for you!”
“Your arrogance blinds you!” Yan Xiping added coldly.
After the medical competition, they’d investigated Jiang Fei thoroughly—his achievements, even his tabloid rumors with Qiao Yiyi. Initially, they’d doubted the gossip, but today’s meeting confirmed it: this man was an insolent, reckless upstart!
Cui raised a hand, silencing them. He took a deep breath.
“Jiang Fei, tell me plainly: why won’t you join?”
After a pause, Jiang Fei answered, “Because I believe joining would change nothing. I’d either fail to reform the association or be corrupted by it. I’d rather walk my own path. Perhaps then, I can achieve something meaningful.”
He wasn’t lying.
Though skilled and somewhat renowned, his influence was still limited. Changing TCM’s trajectory single-handedly was unrealistic—for now.
But once he built his medical empire, a brand as prestigious as Jishi Tang or Tongren Tang, even surpassing them—then he’d have the power to make a difference.
That was his goal: to profit from TCM, yes, but also to give back to it.
“What if I told you that by joining, you could change the TCM Association?” Cui countered.
Jiang Fei almost laughed. “How? Even if my skills rival the ancient masters, one man can’t overhaul an entire system.”
Don’t joke with me.
At best, he’d be an ordinary member—how could he overturn the entrenched hierarchy?
No employee could reform a company’s leadership alone. If he stood out too much, he’d only be ostracized. Better to avoid the mess entirely.
“But what if you became the TCM Association’s president?” Cui’s gaze sharpened. “What if you could dictate its future?”
Jiang Fei stared. Is this old man serious?
“Is that even possible?”
Of course not.
The three ancient schools, entrenched in their power struggles, couldn’t even agree on a leader. How could an outsider like him—no matter how skilled—take the helm?
“It is possible,” Cui declared. “If you lead TCM to victory in the medical exchange, the presidency will be yours!”
Kong Yun and Yan Xiping paled. “Elder Cui, we already rejected this proposal earlier! You can’t—”
Yu Ruzhi’s eyes sparkled. With an almost girlish enthusiasm, she said, “I support Elder Cui’s decision!”
