Chapter 023: The Thirteen Needles of the Spiritual Path

For an elderly man, to live even two more years is a blessing.

After Liu Zhen finished speaking, he took out inch-long silver needles from his medical kit, unbuttoned the old man’s clothes, and applied the needles with cautious precision, each one piercing into the flesh.

Bai Chuwei watched from the side, shaking her head. Traditional medicine had flourished for five thousand years—who would have thought that in just a century or two, it would fall into such decline?

Suddenly, the old man on the bed convulsed, tense expressions flashing across everyone’s faces. Liu Zhen, unconcerned, said, “It’s nothing.”

No sooner had he spoken than the old man vomited yellowish fluid from his stomach, streaked with blood, gasping for breath—breathing out without breathing in, a clear sign of impending death.

Panic broke out. The old man had improved after eating some vegetables, and the rest of the Duan family had not yet returned. If he died now, Third Master and the others would never get to see him one last time!

Duan Xingye erupted, “What have you done to my grandfather, you quack?”

Liu Zhen’s expression grew cold, his eyes suspicious as he demanded, “Did the old man take anything before this?”

Everyone looked at one another, but the butler recalled and said, “A few days ago, the old master was fed some vegetables—those vegetables were sent by Miss Bai.”

All eyes turned to Bai Chuwei.

Bai Chuwei glanced at Liu Zhen with amusement—she hadn’t expected them to pin this on her. She strode forward and kicked Liu Zhen aside without mercy. “Get lost, you disgrace!”

Liu Zhen staggered, nearly falling, his face flushed with anger, about to scold her.

Bai Chuwei retrieved a cloth embroidered with ink bamboo from her backpack and unfurled it with a gentle roll. Her slender, fair fingers swiftly plucked several silver needles, her technique fluid and practiced, each needle sinking seamlessly into the flesh.

She infused the needles with strands of spiritual energy, and the old man’s breathing visibly steadied, his pallor fading as he improved.

Liu Zhen’s expression grew stranger by the moment, especially when Bai Chuwei produced a three-inch silver needle from the acupuncture cloth. His cloudy eyes stared as if he’d seen a ghost.

She placed the needle at an acupoint, steady at the center of the old man’s chest.

Liu Zhen’s lips trembled. “The Thirteen Spiritual Path Needles? How do you know them? No, it’s impossible—at your age, how could you perform all thirteen in one go?”

Even after decades