Ye Qiu was utterly astonished.
Why would Old Master Qian be afflicted with a curse?
Old Master Qian was a renowned educator. By all logic, he shouldn’t have enemies. Who would want to take his life?
Besides, at his advanced age, even without a curse, he likely didn’t have many years left. Why go to such lengths?
Ye Qiu meticulously examined Old Master Qian’s body again, taking several minutes before withdrawing his gaze.
“Little Ye, any findings?” Zhang Jiuling asked.
Ye Qiu nodded slightly.
Li Chunfeng and Nie Xue Liang’s hearts jolted. Had this kid pinpointed the cause?
“I knew it. With you on the case, you’d spot something,” Zhang Jiuling said. “What’s the cause of Old Qian’s condition?”
Qian Jinglan couldn’t hold back, “Qiu’er, what’s wrong with your grandpa?”
Ye Qiu replied, “Grandpa isn’t sick.”
Everyone froze.
Qian Bowen and Qian Weidong, already skeptical of Ye Qiu’s supposed divine doctor status, felt their hopes plummet further at his words.
It seemed their nephew’s medical prowess wasn’t as impressive as Zhang Jiuling had claimed.
Qian Weidong said, “Father’s this ill—how can he not be sick?”
Qian Bowen added, “Ye Qiu, maybe take another look.”
“No need. Grandpa truly isn’t sick,” Ye Qiu insisted. “It’s precisely because he isn’t sick that the seniors’ combined efforts couldn’t find a cause.”
Curiosity got the better of Nie Xue Liang, “Then what’s causing Old Qian’s state?”
“A curse!”
Ye Qiu’s two words hung in the air.
A curse?
The three medical sages exchanged stunned glances, a flicker of shock in their eyes.
“A curse?” Qian Weidong blinked, “That’s a bit far-fetched, isn’t it?”
“Far-fetched doesn’t even cover it. It’s practically…” Qian Bowen stopped himself from saying Ye Qiu was spouting nonsense—too harsh, given he was family—and rephrased, “Talk of curses is baseless, a relic of feudal superstition. It doesn’t exist.”
“Uncle, I know you’ve read widely and studied abroad, embracing modern science. But just because you haven’t encountered something doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
“I’m a doctor. I must be rigorous about a patient’s condition, never speaking carelessly.”
“Besides, this is my grandpa lying here. Why would I make this up?”
Qian Bowen was left speechless.
“Little Ye, if you say Old Qian’s under a curse, do you know how it was placed on him?” Zhang Jiuling asked.
Ye Qiu countered, “Seniors, have you ever heard of the Art of Suppression?”
The three medical sages shook their heads.
Ye Qiu explained, “The Art of Suppression is essentially…”
“I know,” Qian Bowen interjected.
All eyes turned to him, intrigued.
Qian Bowen said, “Last year, I was invited by CCTV to do a history lecture on the Tang Dynasty. I pored over countless records and came across mentions of the Art of Suppression.”
“To put it simply, it’s a form of witchcraft.”
“According to the records, during Emperor Gaozong’s reign in the Tang Dynasty, Empress Wang was blamed for the sudden death of Wu Zetian’s daughter. Lacking evidence, Gaozong didn’t punish her.”
“But fearing Wu Zetian’s retaliation, Empress Wang grew anxious. She teamed up with Consort Xiao, hiring a Taoist priest to use the Art of Suppression to kill Wu Zetian.”
“When Gaozong found out, he was furious. He issued a decree condemning Empress Wang for plotting poison and using the Art of Suppression to harm palace members, unfit for an empress. She and Consort Xiao were imprisoned, demoted to commoners, and their families—parents, brothers—were stripped of titles and exiled to Lingnan.”
“That’s all I know,” Qian Bowen concluded.
“Uncle, you’re a professor for a reason—knowledgeable and impressive,” Ye Qiu praised, then continued, “As Uncle just said, the Art of Suppression is a type of witchcraft.”
“Ancient people used carved peach wood plaques, peach figurines, Bagua mirrors, swords, coins, even door gods to ward off misfortune.”
“If something bad had already happened, these items could turn it toward a positive outcome.”
“It’s an ancient method to dispel evil and avert disaster.”
“But in the hands of evildoers, the Art of Suppression reverses its effect, hastening misfortune or even taking lives.”
Qian Jinglan grasped something, asking, “Qiu’er, are you saying someone used the Art of Suppression on your grandpa?”
“Exactly. Someone evil cursed Grandpa with it, leading to his current state.”
Ye Qiu added, “The Art of Suppression is inherently mysterious. Ordinary medical methods can’t uncover its cause.”
He silently thanked his luck.
Good thing he had the Heavenly Eye, or he’d never have seen why Old Master Qian was unconscious.
“Little Ye, since you’ve identified Old Qian’s issue, can you treat it?”
Zhang Jiuling’s question drew every gaze to Ye Qiu.
Beyond curiosity, there was eager anticipation.
Ye Qiu scanned the room, nodding firmly, “Yes!”
“Then don’t waste time—start treating Old Qian!” Li Chunfeng was impatient to see how Ye Qiu would handle it.
Nie Xue Liang watched Ye Qiu’s every move closely.
Ye Qiu pulled a leather pouch from his pocket, unfolding it swiftly to reveal rows of golden needles.
“Huh, aren’t those Old Sun’s ancestral golden needles?” Nie Xue Liang exclaimed.
“Drop the ‘aren’t those.’ They are,” Zhang Jiuling chuckled, “You two don’t know yet—Old Sun’s already taken Ye Qiu as his master.”
What?
Li Chunfeng and Nie Xue Liang were floored.
They knew Sun Shengshou well. Though not as skilled as them, he was a reputable doctor in his own right.
They never imagined that, at his age, Sun Shengshou would apprentice under Ye Qiu.
Unbelievable!
“Not gonna lie, every time I see Little Ye save someone, I’m tempted to beg him to take me as a disciple too,” Zhang Jiuling said with a laugh.
Nie Xue Liang’s eyes flickered, his thoughts unclear.
Li Chunfeng locked onto Ye Qiu’s actions as he drew a seven-inch golden needle from the pouch, disinfected it, and pricked Old Master Qian’s brow. With a low shout—
“Soul Anchor!”
—Ye Qiu drove the needle into Old Master Qian’s brow with a palm strike.
