Chapter Seventy-One: Challenging the King of Needles!

Seeing that everyone remained silent, simply gazing at him with dazed expressions, Qin Luo began to feel a bit embarrassed. He was only speaking the truth—surely he hadn’t exaggerated too much? Sweeping his eyes over the group, Qin Luo said, “If you give me that spot and let me deliver the conference speech, I’m certain I’ll make a stunning impression, bringing great influence to our College of Traditional Chinese Medicine and honor to our department’s leadership. What do you all think?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Teacher Zhu was the first to jump up and refute him. Director Guo had originally decided that Zhu would represent the Capital College of Traditional Chinese Medicine at the conference. How could Zhu willingly give up this opportunity to shine?

“And why should you be the one to represent our college? How many days have you even been a teacher? Who here doesn’t have more teaching experience than you? You don’t even have a lesson plan—what will you use to give a speech?” As Teacher Zhu spoke, his agitation grew. Director Guo, noticing this, grew annoyed, worried that Zhu’s reaction was making it too obvious that the conference spot had already been earmarked for him.

Director Guo coughed deliberately, interrupting Zhu. “Our department has always followed the principle of democratic centralism. As I just said, everyone is free to speak; each person can choose whom they consider most suitable.”

Guo Renhuai glanced at Qin Luo before quickly shifting his gaze elsewhere. “It’s not wrong for Teacher Qin to consider himself the best candidate. Young people should indeed have confidence in themselves. We never said you couldn’t nominate yourself. Now that everyone has made their suggestions, let’s do this: we’ll select the second candidate by anonymous vote.”

“Everyone, find a piece of paper and write down your choice. Whoever gets the most votes will be given the second spot.”

As soon as Director Guo finished, everyone began searching for paper and pens, scribbling down their votes.

After counting and verifying the ballots, there was no surprise—Qin Luo was not selected.

He received only one vote, his own.

Holding the ballots, Guo Renhuai was secretly pleased, though his face remained solemn. “We have always upheld democracy. We strive to provide fair opportunities for everyone. The two teachers selected must prepare well, win honor for our Capital University of Medical Sciences, and for the best college of Chinese medicine in our nation. Those who were not selected, don’t be discouraged. There will surely be opportunities in the future.”

After the meeting, Qin Luo trailed behind the group towards the office.

“Congratulations, Teacher Zhu. You’re the authority on the Inner Canon—your speech will surely outshine the other schools.”

“Yes, we’re looking forward to reading your outstanding work.”

“Teacher Zhu truly deserves it. Who else should go if not him?”

Teacher Zhu turned to glance at Qin Luo, then said to the teachers walking beside him, “If it’s rightfully mine, I’ll fight for it. If not, I don’t want undeserved honor. One must know their place.”

Qin Luo merely smiled and said nothing.

Within the current system, countless rules and constraints formed an invisible net that pressed down, making it hard to breathe.

No matter how hard one struggled, it was impossible to tear even the smallest hole in that net.

“But I refuse to accept this,” Qin Luo told himself inwardly.

A symposium on Chinese medicine should be a gathering of those who love the art, who hold dreams and passion for its future, sitting together to speak freely, to compete, and to seek the path for the healthy growth of Chinese medicine.

It should not be reduced to a stage for people to chase personal interests in front of their superiors.

Pursuing personal gain is inevitable. But one must have the ability to contribute to the field.

In Qin Luo’s mind, people like Zhu were nothing but a pile of filth.

It was disheartening to be represented by such people. Qin Luo was deeply frustrated.

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Although Qin Luo had taken away the “Divine Acupuncture King” plaque, it did nothing to change the fact that, in people’s hearts, he remained the Divine Acupuncture King.

When Qin Luo’s car arrived at the entrance of the Divine Acupuncture King’s clinic, he saw a constant flow of patients. The waiting room was packed, a long line of people still waiting to be seen.

The years of reputation that the Divine Acupuncture King had built up were in full effect. Not a single defeat had driven away his patients; he remained their first choice for treatment.

Those with true skill can always find a place in society, no matter the circumstances.

As soon as Qin Luo entered the main hall, a female receptionist approached him. She recognized him—he was the one who had won away their plaque the last time. Her expression was somewhat unfriendly. “What are you doing here again?”

“I’m here to challenge your boss,” Qin Luo replied with a smile.

“Another challenge?” The receptionist was astonished. Last time, he had taken their treasured “Divine Acupuncture King” plaque. What did he want to win this time?

“Yes. I made an appointment with Elder Wang,” Qin Luo nodded.

Elder Wang Xiushen had said he would come to challenge in three days, but today Wang Yangxin called and invited Qin Luo to the clinic for a contest. After all, there were patients here for live demonstrations.

Qin Luo agreed with his reasoning, and besides, Wang Xiushen was a respected elder—he ought to pay his respects in person.

The receptionist was just about to make Qin Luo wait all afternoon when she saw their general manager, Wang Yangxin, hurrying down the stairs. With a friendly smile he said, “Qin Luo, you’re here. Grandfather is waiting for you upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Qin Luo replied, smiling.

“No need to be so polite. I’ll take you up,” Wang Yangxin replied warmly. It seemed he had overcome the shadow of his previous defeat; his attitude toward Qin Luo was no longer arrogant, but rather more cordial.

Following Wang Yangxin, Qin Luo entered a VIP treatment room on the second floor.

There, four elderly men sat side by side on the sofa, drinking tea and chatting.

As Qin Luo entered, all eyes turned to him.

Wang Xiushen, dressed in spotless white and radiating health, rose from the sofa and strode toward Qin Luo, smiling broadly. “Qin Luo, it’s been a few days, hasn’t it?”

“Exactly three days,” Qin Luo replied with a smile.

“Haha, I kept looking forward to competing with you, it made the time feel so long. If Yangxin hadn’t reminded me, I would have thought it had been much longer,” Elder Wang said with childlike delight.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Qin Luo replied modestly. In front of those he respected, he always maintained proper decorum.

“Meeting true talent is always a joy. I’d wait even longer. Qin Luo, this time you mustn’t hold back—show us your true skill.” Wang Xiushen clapped him heartily on the shoulder.

“I’ll do my very best,” Qin Luo promised with a smile.

“Come, let me introduce these three old fellows,” Wang Xiushen said.

He pointed to a gaunt, stern-faced elder and said, “This is Gu Baixian, the most renowned bone diagnostician in Yanjing. His miraculous hands have healed countless people.”

“Hello, Elder Gu,” Qin Luo greeted him. Gu Baixian nodded in reply, which counted as an acknowledgment.

“Old Gu just has a surly temperament. Don’t mind him,” Wang Xiushen reassured Qin Luo when he saw Gu’s curt manner.

“It’s fine,” Qin Luo replied indifferently. Genius and eccentricity often went hand in hand. Talented people all had their quirks.

For example, he himself was fond of strolling the streets to admire beautiful women.

Seeing that Qin Luo’s expression remained unchanged, Wang Xiushen nodded approvingly. Then, pointing to a rotund, round-faced man, he said, “This is ‘One-Grasp’ Master Zhuo. No matter what medicinal ingredient, he can grab the exact amount needed—never too much, never too little. His prescriptions are famous. You two should exchange ideas sometime.”

The round-faced man smiled amiably at Qin Luo. “Qin Luo, I hear your grandfather is Qin Zheng, the Medicine King?”

“Yes,” Qin Luo nodded.

“Sigh, it’s been years since he left the scene. Is the old gentleman well?”

“He’s doing well. I thank Elder Zhuo for his concern on his behalf,” Qin Luo replied gratefully, taking the posture of a junior.

“No need for thanks. I, Old Zhuo, can be considered half a disciple of the Medicine King. If I get the chance, I’d love to visit him personally,” the fat man said heartily.

‘One-Grasp’ was a prominent figure in Yanjing’s Chinese medicine circle, an expert in herbal prescriptions, with countless influential figures and celebrities among his patients—he even served as an executive director of the Chinese Medicine Association.

Yet, in front of everyone, he claimed to be half a disciple of Qin Luo’s grandfather, Qin Zheng. Such openness showed an uncommon breadth of mind.

“There will certainly be a chance,” Qin Luo replied warmly, liking the fat man immediately.

Finally, Wang Xiushen indicated an elderly man with dark skin, deep-set eyes, and a prominent nose. “This is the Cupping King of the capital, Guo Xusheng. With his needles and cups, half the illness is gone. Master Guo’s cupping clinic does even better business than my Divine Acupuncture King.”

“Hello, Elder Guo,” Qin Luo greeted him with a smile. Qin Luo had some knowledge of cupping, but it was his weakest area—he could never compare to the Cupping King.

“Hello. I look forward to witnessing the art of the Taiyi Divine Needle,” the elder replied, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Clearly, he was here to see the fabled Taiyi Divine Needle.

With the three judges introduced, Wang Xiushen turned to Qin Luo and apologized, “I hadn’t meant to make things so complicated. We could have just had a private match. But who knows how these old fellows got wind of it—they all came to see the Taiyi Divine Needle with their own eyes. Old friends, how could I turn them away? Still, I can’t let them watch for nothing, so I’ve put them to work as judges.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Qin Luo replied.

“Old Wang, if Qin Luo doesn’t mind, why are you fussing so much? Let’s get started,” the round-faced fat man said with a laugh.

“Fine, let’s begin,” Wang Xiushen agreed. “Qin Luo, I originally said we’d have a match, but I’ve changed my mind. The Medicine King’s grandson must be a versatile genius. Let’s compete in three rounds: first, diagnostic skills; second, pharmacy; and only third, acupuncture. How about it?”

“No problem,” Qin Luo replied with a smile. He knew these old men intended to test his abilities in all aspects.