Chapter Thirty-Three: Golden Needles Channel Qi, Beauty by My Side

When the silver needle, infused with a trace of my “Golden Core Qi,” pierced his body, even Qin Zhenbang—this battle-hardened elder with a will of steel—could not suppress a muffled groan. He felt a surge of warmth, vast and brimming with boundless vitality, like the first rays of the newborn sun, illuminating his frame, which had long been eroded by the deadly aura of slaughter, cold and lifeless as a winter wasteland.

That frigid, deathly energy, which had clung to his body for decades like maggots on bone, encountered this force and recoiled in silent agony, as if snow meeting a blazing sun, beginning to retreat and dissolve in a frenzy. The clash of these two powers sent tumultuous waves through his meridians—pain far greater than the searing agony of bullets piercing his flesh on the battlefield years ago.

Bulging veins stood out on Qin Zhenbang’s forehead; cold sweat instantly drenched his clothes. Yet he clenched his teeth, refusing to utter a single sound of pain.

“Grandpa!” Qin Muyao watched in terror, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Don’t worry.” My voice was calm but carried a convincing strength. “This is ‘breaking before healing’—it is a good sign.”

My fingers moved deftly, inserting needle after needle with precision into the heart of his other two old wounds. Three streams of “Golden Core Qi,” like three divine weapons, formed a tripod within his body and began the final siege against the deadly aura. The entire process lasted about a quarter of an hour.

When I withdrew the last needle, Qin Zhenbang exhaled a long, turbid breath—a breath visibly tinged with gray-black. He slowly opened his eyes, and the spirit in his being was already worlds apart from just fifteen minutes prior. The sallow hue of his face now showed a healthy flush, his gaze clear and resolute. He could even feel his once feeble limbs fill again with strength.

“I... I feel as if I’ve become twenty years younger!” Qin Zhenbang flexed his wrist, his voice booming with incredulous delight.

“Grandpa!” Qin Muyao wept with joy, throwing herself at his side, laughing and crying at once.

Xiao Jingtian’s face was filled with shock. He had always known the “Divine Master” was formidable, but this was beyond anything he’d imagined. This was no longer medicine—this was an immortal art that reversed life and death!

“Doctor Jiang, words cannot express my gratitude!” Qin Zhenbang stood, offering me a solemn military salute.

I accepted it with composure.

“This is merely the first treatment, which has cleared away most of the deadly aura. Come once a week—after three sessions, you will be fully healed.” I packed away my needles and spoke lightly.

“Thank you! Doctor Jiang, thank you so much!” Qin Muyao wiped her tears and ran to me, her beautiful eyes shining with undisguised admiration and gratitude.

From that day onward, Qin Muyao became a frequent visitor to “Anhe Hall.” Besides accompanying her grandfather to his weekly checkups, she would come by herself nearly every afternoon. Unlike Ling Qingzhu, who came to “seek enlightenment,” she was more like a diligent assistant, eagerly helping me organize herbs, clean up, and had even learned to brew tea.

Her admiration for me bordered on blind devotion. She took my every word as law, and whenever I offered her small tips on health and wellness, she memorized them earnestly. Her gaze was always bright with curiosity and affection whenever she looked at me.

She would chatter about amusing incidents at school and her daily life with friends, bringing vibrant life and the warmth of this era into my otherwise quiet clinic.

Yiyi also adored this gentle, beautiful elder sister, and the two would often giggle together.

I did not turn away her closeness. Such pure gratitude and kindness felt genuinely comforting. I have long weathered all storms, my heart as calm as still water—so naturally, I harbored no other intentions.

Yet in the eyes of those with ulterior motives, this closeness took on a different meaning.

That afternoon, Qin Muyao sat beside me, helping sort herbs as she laughed and chatted. Suddenly, a bright red Ferrari screeched to a halt at the clinic door with a shrill roar.

A young man stepped out, dressed head to toe in designer brands, his hair slicked back, his demeanor arrogant. Cradling a large bouquet of roses, he strode straight inside.

“Yaoyao, I’ve been looking all over for you! So you’ve run off to this shabby place again!” The young man’s eyes flashed with jealousy and disdain upon seeing Qin Muyao sitting so close to me.

His name was Zhao Wei, son of the Zhao family from the capital. His father held a high post in the ministry and had long-standing ties with the Qin family. Among Qin Muyao’s many pursuers, he was by far the most persistent and intrusive.

At the sight of him, the smile vanished from Qin Muyao’s face. Her brows knit slightly. “Zhao Wei, I’ve told you many times not to come here and bother Mr. Jiang.”

“Mr. Jiang?” Zhao Wei’s gaze swept over me with scorn. “Just a barefoot doctor running a rundown clinic. Yaoyao, don’t let yourself be fooled by such a charlatan. Your grandfather’s recovery was pure luck. Come on, I’ll take you to the new Michelin restaurant for dinner.”

As he spoke, he reached out to take Qin Muyao by the hand.

She recoiled in disgust, moving to stand by my side, her tone resolute. “Zhao Wei, show some respect! Mr. Jiang is my grandfather’s savior and the person I respect most. I will not allow you to insult him!”

Seeing her stand up for me so fiercely, Zhao Wei’s face turned so dark it seemed almost to drip with malice. He fixed me with a venomous, threatening glare.

“Kid, I don’t care what tricks you used to fool Yaoyao. Let me warn you: stay away from her. She’s not someone you could ever touch.”

I didn’t even bother to look at him. Instead, I spoke calmly to Qin Muyao, “The orchids in the backyard need watering.”

My disregard utterly enraged Zhao Wei.