Chapter 66: The Needle King of an Era!

Confusion, regret, and bitterness—all sorts of emotions tangled within him, and at this moment, Wang Yangxin found himself quite unable to put his feelings into words.

He had always looked down on Qin Luo before; this young man, with his strange manner of speaking and acting, seemed no different from a charlatan roaming the streets. How could someone like that possibly possess any real medical skill?

After learning that Qin Luo had been expelled from the College of Traditional Chinese Medicine at the Medical University, this conviction only grew stronger. Of course, Wang Yangxin looked down on most people anyway—such arrogance was ingrained in his very bones. As he’d often said himself, if someone truly had ability, how could they end up expelled from school?

The truth was, there was no deep, irreconcilable grudge between Wang Yangxin and Qin Luo. He simply found the young man distasteful. In Wang Yangxin’s eyes, there were two kinds of arrogance: that of the truly talented, which is pride—a bit of temper is only to be expected from those with real ability. The other kind—arrogance without ability—is mere conceit. Clearly, Wang Yangxin believed Qin Luo belonged to the latter.

Later, all because of Lin Huanxi, who had become the focus of their rivalry, the two had wagered a contest of medical skills. Wang Yangxin had dismissed Qin Luo’s words as empty boasting; men, after all, often promise things far beyond their means in front of women to save face.

That Qin Luo had the nerve to come seek him out today was already surprising. But when Qin Luo performed that miraculous acupuncture technique—an exquisite stroke with but a single needle—Wang Yangxin’s astonishment was complete.

He had lost. Lost utterly and sincerely.

Qin Luo truly knew the Taiyi Divine Needle. And not a fragmentary version, nor the reckless imitation his own apprentices had once described, but the genuine art, pure and undiluted.

The very way the needle was wielded, the faint shimmering afterimage left on the retina by the tip infused with internal force—all of it testified to the truth. This man knew the Taiyi Divine Needle!

Someone unfamiliar with martial arts cannot understand the place of the “Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms” in the world of wuxia. Someone who doesn’t play piano can’t fathom what it means to win the Chopin International Piano Competition. And someone unversed in Chinese medicine cannot appreciate the true significance of the “Taiyi Divine Needle.” Countless masters of acupuncture had long dreamed of this art, hailing it as the “Number One Needle Under Heaven.”

Yet, with its bizarre needle paths and extreme difficulty, this supreme skill had been lost for centuries. In all those years, there had been no news of anyone inheriting the Taiyi Divine Needle.

Now, standing right before him, was a young man who possessed it.

If word of this got out, it would surely drive countless people mad with excitement.

“Is he ready for such fame?” Wang Yangxin wondered as he gazed at Qin Luo.

“Master, how could you lose? That’s impossible!”

“Exactly! His technique didn’t even look good.”

“How can he cure a patient so quickly? It’s hard to believe.”

That their master had conceded defeat was something Wang Yangxin’s proud apprentices simply could not accept. They all clamored for him to change his mind.

But Wang Yangxin no longer had the strength to rebuke them. The true mastery of acupuncture could never be judged by appearances alone—these fools!

“All of you, leave,” Wang Yangxin said with a wave of his hand.

Some still wanted to protest, but one look from Wang Yangxin silenced any further objection. In no time, his apprentices and the patients had all departed, leaving only Qin Luo and Wang Yangxin in the room.

“So that was the Taiyi Divine Needle?” Wang Yangxin asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yes. That you could recognize it shows your eye for skill is not bad at all,” Qin Luo replied with a smile.

A bitter expression clouded Wang Yangxin’s face. “What good is a discerning eye? I still lost to you. I never imagined it was truly the Taiyi Divine Needle.”

“The Five Dragons Needle technique is also impressive. But you lack experience,” Qin Luo remarked. Perhaps things had always gone too smoothly for this young man, leaving him without the composure one needs in a crisis.

“That’s true. My grandfather has always told me that there’s always someone better out there. Now I finally understand,” Wang Yangxin said. “Name your price.”

“My price?” Qin Luo echoed, puzzled.

“That ‘Divine Needle King’ plaque is a family heirloom of the Wang clan. I cannot let it go. Name your price—I’ll buy it back,” Wang Yangxin said.

Qin Luo narrowed his eyes, his smile ambiguous as he looked at Wang Yangxin. Clearly, experience wasn’t the only thing this young man lacked.

“How much do you want? A million?” Wang Yangxin was unsettled by Qin Luo’s gaze, and in his agitation, he even began to make offers himself.

But Qin Luo only shook his head, still smiling.

“Two million?”

Qin Luo shook his head again.

“Five million? That’s the most I can offer,” beads of sweat began to form on Wang Yangxin’s brow. To buy back his own plaque with his own money—if word of this got out, his reputation would be ruined. And yet, knowing how foolish it was, he could not bring himself to do otherwise.

“It’s not for sale. Surely a whole block of yellow pear wood is worth at least that much?” Qin Luo said with a laugh.

Wang Yangxin’s heart sank—regret flooded him. He should never have boasted to Qin Luo about the plaque’s distinguished origin.

“Name your price, will you? How much do you want?” Wang Yangxin stared anxiously at Qin Luo, like a desperate mother rabbit begging a big bad wolf to spare her little ones.

“I don’t want money. I just want the plaque,” Qin Luo finally gave a clear answer.

“You—” Wang Yangxin nearly spat blood. “One should always leave some room for future encounters. Must you really drive me to ruin?”

He knew that if Qin Luo took the plaque, his lucrative clinic would be finished. Even more importantly, the Wang family’s reputation as master physicians would be utterly destroyed.

“Ruin you?” Qin Luo shook his head. “It seems you still don’t understand. Never mind, I won’t explain any further. If you understand, you understand. If you don’t, you don’t. Will you take the plaque down yourself and give it to me, or shall I send someone to collect it? Surely a Wang keeps his word?”

“The Wang family always keeps its word. The plaque will be yours,” a booming voice suddenly rang out.

The firmly shut wooden door was pushed open, and an old man, with silver hair but a youthful complexion, dressed in a silvery Tang jacket, strode in with a radiant smile. He looked at Qin Luo with a face full of geniality.

The old man’s sudden appearance left Wang Yangxin deeply startled.

“Grandfather,” he greeted respectfully.

“Yangxin, I’ve told you countless times—there’s always someone out there who’s better. Now you see, don’t you?”

“I was wrong, Grandfather,” Wang Yangxin admitted, deeply ashamed.

“Good. To recognize one’s mistakes and correct them is the highest virtue. You’re still young, Yangxin—your future is bright,” the old man said, beaming.

He did not scold his grandson, but comforted and encouraged him instead.

“Yes, Grandfather,” Wang Yangxin replied.

Only then did the old man turn his gaze to Qin Luo, studying him up and down as though appraising a rare treasure.

“May I ask your surname, young man?” he inquired.

“My surname is Qin,” Qin Luo answered, thinking that this kindly old man must be Wang Yangxin’s grandfather—the master acupuncturist Wang Xiushen.

“Qin?” The old man pondered, studying Qin Luo’s features more closely. “What is your relation to Qin Zheng?”

“Qin Zheng is my grandfather,” Qin Luo answered truthfully, surprised that the old man had guessed his lineage so swiftly.

“No wonder. The grandson of the Medicine King is indeed extraordinary,” Wang Xiushen nodded in admiration. “However, your complexion seems somewhat troubled. Did your grandfather never teach you ways to maintain your health?”

After all, every master of Chinese medicine is also an expert in self-cultivation. There is no reason not to pass these methods on to one’s own kin.

“I learned, but my constitution is innately poor. There’s nothing to be done,” Qin Luo replied with a wry smile. In front of such discerning eyes, his weakness could not be concealed.

“Hmm,” Wang Xiushen nodded, not pressing further. “Just now I heard you say—do you know the Taiyi Divine Needle?”

“There are five needles in the Taiyi Divine Needle. I only know the first three,” Qin Luo explained.

“Remarkable. Truly remarkable. Hearing you say so, this old man is filled with anticipation,” Wang Xiushen chuckled.

“There’ll be an opportunity, surely,” Qin Luo replied with a smile. Originally, his aim was to challenge Wang Xiushen, but Wang Yangxin had insisted that he must first defeat him before seeing his grandfather. Resigned, Qin Luo had obliged.

“Yes, there will be. If before I leave this world, I could witness the Number One Needle with my own eyes, I could die without regret,” Wang Xiushen sighed.

“You flatter me,” Qin Luo said, somewhat embarrassed by such admiration.

“I’ve already been told of your wager,” Wang Xiushen continued. “The Wang family honors its bets. I’ve already had the plaque taken down. Take it with you when you leave.”

“Grandfather!” Wang Yangxin cried in anguish. He knew what it would mean to his grandfather to lose the plaque.

Qin Luo, seeing the open-hearted magnanimity in Wang Xiushen, couldn’t help but be moved. Compared to this elder, Wang Yangxin fell short in every way.

“We young people like to joke around. How could I really accept such a generous gift?” Qin Luo said with a smile. Out of respect for the old man, he decided to forgo his earlier insistence.

“No, you must take it,” Wang Xiushen insisted, stepping forward. “It is rightfully yours. You must accept.”

“This—” Qin Luo began, but Wang Xiushen cut him off.

“Our family lost fairly in a contest of acupuncture. The Divine Needle King plaque no longer has any meaning hanging here. You defeated Yangxin—the title is yours.”

His eyes suddenly gleamed with pride. “But within three days, I will come to challenge you myself. When the time comes, we shall have another contest. If I lose, you may ask any favor of me. If I win, I will have the plaque returned.”

The old master’s words stirred Qin Luo’s own pride, and with a hearty laugh he replied, “Very well. I shall await your visit with pleasure, Master of the Needle!”

Wang Xiushen shook his head. “Now, I am no longer the Needle King. You are.”

The old master and the young man shared a look, both smiling—a rare bond of kindred spirits.