Jiang Fei did not leave the capital immediately to return to Jin City.
First, he went to the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) Association to collect his credentials, attend a meeting, and officially take over as its president.
At the meeting that day, even the Minister of Health made a personal appearance, politely congratulating Jiang Fei—the “savior of TCM” and the unparalleled young miracle doctor—with warm regards.
Though the position of TCM Association president wasn’t particularly high-ranking, its influence was immense, far beyond what most people could imagine.
Even though the Minister of Health was a provincial-level official and the TCM Association fell under the Ministry’s jurisdiction, the Minister didn’t dare to boss Jiang Fei around. Instead, he treated Jiang Fei as an equal.
At the same time, the inauguration ceremony went much more smoothly than Jiang Fei had expected. The leaders of the three ancient medical schools and Old Master Cui of the Cui family had already been informed and had long decided to support him. But what surprised Jiang Fei was that none of the other hundred-plus members, nor any of the smaller factions or TCM families, raised objections or caused trouble during the meeting.
This was undoubtedly due to Jiang Fei’s outstanding performance at the Sino-Western Medical Exchange Conference, which had won everyone over.
Even the proud, often condescending veteran physicians of the TCM Association—many of whom, like Qin Zhengming and Yu Qingsong, had initially looked down on a young man like Jiang Fei—were left speechless after the conference.
This young president’s medical skills and ethics far surpassed theirs, leaving them no choice but to acknowledge his superiority. Some even felt as though their decades of practice had been wasted in comparison.
Now, they were more than willing to accept Jiang Fei as their leader.
As president, Jiang Fei had responsibilities to fulfill. After the general meeting, he quickly convened a smaller session with the most respected members of the association to discuss key matters.
The agenda was clear:
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Leverage the momentum from the exchange conference to rapidly expand TCM’s influence in the country, making more people aware of and confident in Chinese medicine, thereby reversing its declining reputation.
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Reform the TCM Association itself. No more elitist secrecy—Jiang Fei decided the association would shed its reclusive, highbrow image and become widely recognized, especially among TCM practitioners. This would boost morale and a sense of belonging, countering the notion that TCM was a dying field with no true masters left.
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Establish a “TCM Foundation” to aid ordinary patients in need, shifting the association’s focus from serving the wealthy and powerful to helping the general public.
Of course, certain high-ranking officials would still receive preferential treatment—that was unavoidable. But the primary mission should be serving the masses. Otherwise, TCM risked becoming an obscure, niche practice, doomed to irrelevance.
That said, the foundation couldn’t be set up overnight. After proposing the idea, the details—fundraising, management, and so on—would take time to iron out.
Fortunately, as president, Jiang Fei only needed to oversee the big picture. The actual implementation could be handled by his staff.
As for the poisoning incident at the exchange conference—where Western medicine practitioners had colluded with the “Poison King,” Old Man Wu—this wasn’t discussed in the smaller meeting. Instead, Jiang Fei privately consulted with Old Master Cui, Kong Yun, Yan Xiping, and Yu Ruzhi.
The underhanded tactics employed by the Western medical faction, which had nearly destroyed TCM’s reputation, couldn’t be ignored.
If they show no mercy, neither will we.
Even without concrete evidence, they had to demand justice. Old Master Cui would take charge of this matter.
With the TCM Association’s affairs temporarily settled, Jiang Fei then gave several media interviews, including one with Xu Ziqi, a colleague of Bai Ruoxi’s.
Back in Jin City, when Jiang Fei had first been interviewed by a Huaxi Metropolitan Daily reporter, he had pretended reluctance but secretly been thrilled at the idea of being featured in the news.
Now, though he still agreed to interviews, he found them tiresome. But as the TCM Association’s president—the most famous, charismatic, and handsome young miracle doctor—who else could represent Chinese medicine?
For the sake of promoting TCM, Jiang Fei had no choice but to comply.
Who knew? His charm might just win more fans for Chinese medicine.
After all, Jiang Fei wasn’t just talented—he was also undeniably an idol.
“We meet again so soon!” Wu Ke, a tall man with a crew cut, greeted Jiang Fei outside the TCM Association headquarters. “I had no idea last time that you were also a swordsmanship expert.”
Feeling a little embarrassed for making Wu Ke come pick him up, Jiang Fei replied modestly, “How do you know I’m an expert? Maybe I’m just a beginner.”
Wu Ke shook his head. “If you were a beginner, Ye Yuanyuan wouldn’t have asked me to take you to the Central National Martial Arts Hall. There are plenty of fencing clubs in Beijing—if she sent you there, it means your skills must be impressive.”
Jiang Fei chuckled.
He hadn’t realized Ye Yuanyuan held him in such high regard. Just mentioning his interest in swordsmanship had led her to assume he was a master.
He didn’t bother denying it further. Once they arrived, his abilities would speak for themselves.
After getting into Wu Ke’s car, they headed straight for the Central National Martial Arts Hall.
The drive took them westward for over half an hour before stopping outside a sprawling, monastery-like complex on the outskirts of the city.
Stepping out, Jiang Fei took in the towering pine trees and the imposing Republic-era architecture, which made the place feel like an ancient forest hidden within the modern metropolis.
Looking up at the sign above the gate—”Central National Martial Arts Hall”—he remarked, “I didn’t expect a place like this. I thought it’d be in some modern high-rise.”
Wu Ke smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “The people who train here aren’t your average martial artists. If they practiced in a modern building, they’d probably break the floors and walls. Only a place like this—with its dirt paths and century-old trees—can handle them.”
Jiang Fei didn’t react outwardly, though inwardly, he was stunned.
Destroy walls and floors with their training?
Were the fighters here really that powerful?
He knew authentic martial arts masters could achieve incredible feats—like practitioners of Bajiquan’s “Iron Mountain Shoulder,” who trained by ramming trees until they snapped. Such individuals could indeed wreck concrete structures.
But Jiang Fei himself hadn’t reached that level yet.
Though his physical abilities had improved significantly, he wasn’t a pure strength-based fighter. He hadn’t even begun cultivating internal energy.
Still, with his Threefold Cloud lightness skill, Tai Chi, and now the legendary Dugu Nine Swords, he was confident that—given a sword—no one in this hall could defeat him.
“Let’s go in,” Wu Ke said, adjusting his clothes and leading the way. After showing a pass to the guards in training uniforms, they entered.
“The Central National Martial Arts Hall doesn’t divide itself into northern or southern styles, or separate schools like Xingyi or Bagua. It’s a melting pot for all martial arts experts. However, the swordsmanship division is distinct. The hall’s founding deputy director, Li Jinglin, was known as the ‘Sword Immortal.’ Over here…” Wu Ke glanced back at Jiang Fei with a grin. “How about a spar later? I’m curious how good a doctor’s swordsmanship can be.”
Jiang Fei shrugged. “We’ll see.”
After winding through several courtyards, they arrived at one dominated by a massive century-old locust tree.
Inside, a man in his thirties—dressed in a white Wudang Taoist robe and sporting a beard—was holding a sword in an intricate stance, his right foot lifted in a pose most people couldn’t replicate.
Spotting Wu Ke and Jiang Fei, he immediately halted, grabbed another sword from a stone bench, and tossed it to Wu Ke. “Catch! En garde!”
Wu Ke caught the sword—then handed it to Jiang Fei, stepping back with a laugh. “Here, Jiang Fei. Let’s see how you handle Wudang’s Taiyi Xuanmen Sword!”
