Chapter 13: The Medical Luminary

Wu Qingyun’s expression shifted from disdain, to suspicion, then to utter astonishment. It was actually the Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning!

In the millennia of Summer Country’s history, countless miraculous medical techniques had been distilled by the ancestors, yet so many had been lost to those invaders, less than beasts. The Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning was one such legendary method!

To recognize it was one thing, but outwardly, he was the authority of Jiang City, the director of the First Hospital, a titan of the medical world. Yet Wu Qingyun knew well that within the true ancient medical sect, he was but an ordinary apprentice, perhaps not even up to the average standard of his peers.

As this thought struck him, his eyes lit up and he reached for his phone. He thought of someone who would definitely recognize this needling technique.

“Do not disturb my treatment—bear the consequences yourself if you do.” The chilling aura that swept over made Wu Qingyun nod immediately, his respect for Ye Cheng deepening further. Such a young man, so accomplished…

Not only was his medical skill superb, but his presence was overwhelming. Clearly, this youth’s cultivation was not low, either. With reverence, Wu Qingyun retreated to a corner of the ward, doing his best not to distract Ye Cheng as he quietly took out his phone.

“Master, it’s me! I’ve just witnessed the Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning!”

…

On a side peak of Mount Wudang, an elderly man with a white beard watched his descendants play, utterly content. This rare moment of tranquility, however, was interrupted by the sudden call.

“The Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning?” The old man was momentarily taken aback, then burst out laughing, his laughter thick with ridicule.

On the other end, Wu Qingyun grew flustered, hurriedly explaining himself. But no matter how he tried to justify, the old man only laughed it off. As he listened to his disciple’s endless chatter, the old man finally lost patience.

“The Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning? I think all these years of medical training have gone to the dogs, Xiao Wu!” Wu Qingyun was scolded thoroughly, not daring to talk back.

“I’ve spent half my life studying traditional medicine, my proficiency far surpasses yours, and you claim to have seen a technique of legend? Do you even recognize it?” Hearing this, Wu Qingyun’s eyes spun—at last, he knew how to persuade his proud master to come down the mountain.

“Ah, your disciple is truly clumsy, so I could only understand a little. Naturally, you were the first to come to mind, Master. Who else but you could recognize such a divine skill today?”

After more than twenty years under his tutelage, Wu Qingyun knew just how to flatter his master. The old man’s disdain melted away, completely replaced by pride.

“Hahaha, indeed! In today’s Summer Country, who else could compare to me in ancient medicine?”

Sensing success, Wu Qingyun laid on the compliments, finally coaxing the old man to leave seclusion.

“But listen well, if I find out it wasn’t the Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning, you can forget about running your hospital,” the old man sneered before hanging up, his eyes narrowing as he gazed toward Jiang City.

“A young man capable of wielding the Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning? I don’t know if you’ve gone mad or if I have! Hahaha!”

“Xian, we’re heading down the mountain.”

“Yes, Master!”

…

Two hours later, aching all over, Ye Cheng finally withdrew the thirteen silver needles. Letting out a long breath, he slumped onto the nearby chair.

Seeing her brother finally finish, Ye Mengxue hurried over with a bottle of mineral water, holding it to Ye Cheng’s lips. “Here, Little Cheng, you must be exhausted—drink some water.”

Seeing the concern in his sister’s eyes, Ye Cheng felt that all his efforts were worthwhile. His parents’ illness was far too complex. To repair the torn areas of their stomachs, he had to use spiritual energy to fill them bit by bit. This, however, would cause continuous bleeding—hardly a complete cure.

The best method was to employ the Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning: first, sealing their acupuncture points, then repairing the damage, and only when all was ready would he extract the needles—achieving perfection without risk.

This technique tested not only Ye Cheng’s skill but also his control over spiritual energy. It was considered an intermediate-level art.

Yes—what ordinary people viewed as miraculous, divine-level medicine was, to Ye Cheng, just barely middling.

“But… if you’ve cured them, why haven’t Mom and Dad woken up yet?” Ye Mengxue asked, puzzled. The monitors showed all was well, but their parents’ eyes remained closed.

“The parasites tormented them for too long. Let them rest for a night to recover their vitality. The needles themselves have a sedative effect. They’ll be well after some sleep.”

Though Ye Mengxue didn’t understand the medical terminology, she nodded in agreement.

Their warm sibling moment was short-lived. Suddenly, an old man with a white beard appeared at the ward’s entrance.

“Young man, are you the one who knows the Thirteen Needles of Soul Returning?” The old man’s voice was loud enough to make the nearby martial artists instinctively cover their ears.

Being disturbed put Ye Cheng in a foul mood. He stood and fixed the old man with a cold glare.

Late-stage Profound Realm after Heaven? And at this age, only this level. The young man behind him was even weaker, only mid-stage Yellow Realm—no stronger than the Lu Moyan he’d just dispatched.

“So what if I do? And if I don’t?” Ye Cheng replied. “If you have nothing to do, leave. Don’t disturb my parents’ rest.”

The old man’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if unable to process that someone would dare speak to him that way.

“Insolent!”

“Who do you think you are, to speak to my master like that! Do you even know who he is?” The young man couldn’t contain his anger, stepping out from behind the old man, face flushed with rage.

“Wait, isn’t that… that guy… I can’t remember his name!”

“Yes, yes, he looks so familiar! I think I’ve seen him on a show before!”

“Oh, my sisters! That’s the Summer Country Medical Network’s selection! This is Xian Ye—last year’s official first-ranked among the top ten outstanding young physicians!”

With that, many of the doctors instantly recalled the young man’s identity. If Xiao Jun was the representative of Western-returned medical youth, Xian Ye was a legend of native medicine, having cured many dignitaries with his original therapies—a figure in the limelight.

And his master? He must be a hidden master of traditional medicine! The crowd looked at the white-bearded old man with newfound respect, some already planning to introduce themselves after the matter was settled.

But what shocked them most was that this terrifying young man—who had already killed three—ignored even Xian Ye, his eyes full of scorn!

“Oh?” The old man narrowed his gaze to a slit. It had been years since anyone dared speak to him like that.

“Might I ask, young friend, which renowned physician is your master? Tell me—perhaps I may pay my respects.”

Ye Cheng smiled coolly.

“You are not worthy to know my master’s name.”