Chapter 0010: The Phantom Hand and Divine Needle

“With your abilities, it’s only natural that you have no solution,” Zhang Xiaofan finally spoke—not out of a desire to interrupt, but because the sight of Old Master Ye brought to mind the late elder of Qingyun whom he once knew.

“Do you claim to have a way?” Gao Zhipeng challenged him. “In Jinghai, I consider myself unmatched in traditional medicine. And you, so young—do you even understand what skill means, what it is to heal and save lives?” Clearly, he was unwilling to accept Zhang Xiaofan’s doubt.

A cold smile curled at Zhang Xiaofan’s lips in response. “Then today, I’ll show you what true traditional medicine is—what real skill looks like.”

His eyes flashed like lightning, his voice thundered—at that moment, Zhang Xiaofan exuded an irresistible charisma.

His figure darted to the bedside, and with one swift palm strike, Old Master Ye’s shirt shattered into pieces.

“Damn it! You brat, what are you doing to the old master?”

“If you strike him like that, he’ll really die!”

“Hurry, throw him out!”

The Ye family members were shocked, then furious, and rushed to intervene. Despite Zhang Xiaofan’s assertive words, they still refused to believe in him.

In fact, his actions only provoked their resentment and anger.

But Zhang Xiaofan was not motivated by money—he acted out of pride!

A cloth pouch of silver needles appeared in his hand, though no one had seen how. Now, all eyes were riveted on his every move.

He pinched a silver needle, seven inches long, gleaming with a faint silver light. It began to tremble gently, then hummed audibly.

At that sight, Gao Zhipeng’s expression instantly turned grave, shock flooding his face.

“An ancient medical art…”

“No one move!”

He quickly rallied the Ye family. “Perhaps Old Master Ye can still be saved!”

Zhang Xiaofan drew a deep breath and, without hesitation, drove the needle into the old man’s chest. Then the second, the third—nine needles in succession. Sweat poured from him, draining much of his spiritual energy.

With the nine needles arranged in nine palaces, Old Master Ye coughed up a mouthful of blood. Zhang Xiaofan paid it no mind; his arrangement temporarily protected the old man’s heart, but forcing out the toxins would not be so simple.

He worked without pause—pinching, inserting, swift as flowing water—so fast that none could follow his movements.

“Is this… could it be the Ghost-Hand Divine Needle?”

Gao Zhipeng’s forehead was slick with cold sweat, as if he’d seen a ghost, unable to believe his eyes.

“Master Gao, what is the Ghost-Hand Divine Needle?” Ye Mingwu asked, full of curiosity.

“I’ve only read of it in ancient medical texts. Though I can’t see his technique clearly, it matches the descriptions closely.” Gao Zhipeng steadied himself. “The Ghost-Hand Divine Needle is an ancient acupuncture art, said to possess supreme power. If fully performed with all one hundred and eight needles, it can shift the balance of life and death—unless someone’s been dead too long, it can bring the dead back to life.”

“So formidable?” Ye Mingwu and the others were stunned. Could this young man really be a miracle doctor, capable of saving the old master?

Coming from Gao Zhipeng, they could not help but believe.

“But the Ghost-Hand Divine Needle has been lost for centuries. I never imagined I’d see it today.” Gao Zhipeng’s excitement was palpable. “Miss Ye has indeed brought us a master, and a martial arts expert as well. Do you know why the needle trembles and hums? That’s because internal energy is infused—a power known to martial artists.”

Of course, with Gao Zhipeng’s experience, he did not know that Zhang Xiaofan was channeling spiritual energy, not the muddled internal energy of martial artists, which could not compare.

Hearing Gao Zhipeng’s words, hope flickered across the faces of the Ye family, though they remembered their earlier treatment of Zhang Xiaofan with embarrassment.

Especially Ye Qingcheng, who had doubted him before—now, seeing him heal her grandfather without holding a grudge, she felt even more guilty.

By now, Zhang Xiaofan had inserted thirty-six needles—his limit. But it was enough to pull Old Master Ye back from the gates of death.

Within the area circled by the needles, Old Master Ye’s skin was blackened, veins bulged, and dark blood could be seen flowing beneath.

Zhang Xiaofan took a steadying breath, withdrew the central needle, and immediately the black blood found an outlet, streaming forth with a foul stench. After a long while, the blood returned to a bright red.

The old master’s complexion improved, and he slowly opened his eyes.

“Don’t speak, breathe slowly,” Zhang Xiaofan said softly. “I have only expelled the poison from your heart; if you force your blood to flow too quickly, not even I can save you.”

The old man calmed, gazing at the young face before him with gratitude.

“It’s done… it’s done!” Ye Mingyi exclaimed in delight.

“Quiet! If you don’t want your father to die, then keep your mouths shut,” Zhang Xiaofan barked.

Ye Mingyi had never been scolded like this, and was about to protest—but Ye Mingwu stopped him. “Brother, be quiet. Listen to the miracle doctor.”

At this point, Ye Mingwu no longer doubted Zhang Xiaofan’s abilities.

“Hmph, so what if he’s a doctor? He thinks he’s so grand,” Liu Zifeng muttered, now standing. The more the Ye family respected Zhang Xiaofan, the more irritated he became.

“Throw him out!” Zhang Xiaofan said coldly. Clearly, the earlier beating had been too light—this dog was still yapping.

No one heeded Zhang Xiaofan’s words. Who was Liu Zifeng? The Ye family would never obey an outsider.

People are like this: though Zhang Xiaofan saved Old Master Ye, they saw it as no more than a doctor earning his fee, something expected. They would pay Zhang Xiaofan, and that was enough.

Why would they throw out Liu Zifeng for a stranger?

“You’re putting on airs now, eh? Since you saved the old master, I won’t argue with you. Take the money and leave.” Liu Zifeng pulled out a card. “There’s a million in here—probably more than you’ll ever earn in your life. Take it and go.”

“Is this what your Ye family intends?” Zhang Xiaofan asked coldly, looking at Ye Mingwu.

“You heal, we pay. What more do you want? Do you really think you can command my Ye family?” Ye Mingyi replied gruffly.

“You speak for the Ye family?” Zhang Xiaofan’s gaze was icy.

“Of course I do,” Ye Mingyi affirmed.

“Fine. Then let me tell you—all of you are poisoned. I had planned to save your whole family, but now I see there’s no need.” Zhang Xiaofan had his own temper; he’d acted before out of pride, to contend with the so-called miracle doctor.

But now, he saw he’d been too sentimental.

They did not value his efforts.

Zhang Xiaofan already knew the whole Ye family was poisoned—not with ordinary toxins. If all of Jinghai’s doctors were at Gao Zhipeng’s level, no one could cure them.

Clearly, someone was targeting the Ye family. But Zhang Xiaofan had no interest in intervening.

“Mingwu… do as the miracle doctor says…” Old Master Ye spoke weakly. As the pillar of the Ye family, he had keen insight. Though unconscious before, he was still aware. He knew this young man possessed extraordinary abilities.

He would rather trust Zhang Xiaofan than risk the lives of his family.

And Zhang Xiaofan’s saving grace could never be measured in money.

“Yes…” Ye Mingwu dared not disobey his grandfather. “Throw Liu Zifeng out.”

Liu Zifeng’s face turned livid. “Uncle, I came to visit out of goodwill—now you want to throw me out?”

“When the old master speaks, we follow,” Ye Mingwu said. He had little choice. He signaled the family’s bodyguards. “What are you waiting for? Throw him out.”

The bodyguards wasted no time, dragging Liu Zifeng out.

“Fine, fine! Ye family! I, Liu Zifeng, will remember this day! I hope you don’t regret it!” Liu Zifeng’s face was contorted with anger—he’d never suffered such humiliation, all because of that wretched youth! As he bore a grudge against the Ye family, his hatred for Zhang Xiaofan only deepened.