“Hiss—”
The seven-inch golden needle was driven into Old Master Qian’s brow with a forceful slap from Ye Qiu.
Qian Bowen’s heart clenched. Could his father withstand such a brutal strike?
But he knew little of medicine, and with the three medical sages standing by without intervening, he didn’t dare speak up.
Unbeknownst to him, the three sages were equally stunned.
They’d never seen such a needling technique before.
“Old Zhang, you’re an acupuncture expert. Do you recognize Little Ye’s method?” Nie Xue Liang whispered.
Zhang Jiuling shook his head, “Never seen it.”
Hiss!
Nie Xue Liang sucked in a breath, “This technique’s so aggressive, and even you don’t know it…”
“No need to worry. Little Ye wouldn’t act recklessly.”
Zhang Jiuling had a blind trust in Ye Qiu.
Among those present, he alone had witnessed Ye Qiu heal multiple times, giving him unshakable confidence.
Then.
Ye Qiu took out a second golden needle, also seven inches and fine as a hair. After sterilizing it with alcohol, he flicked it with his finger.
“Buzz!”
The needle vibrated rapidly, humming, before Ye Qiu slapped it into Old Master Qian’s Baihui acupoint.
Next, he pressed a finger to Old Master Qian’s temple, channeling a wisp of innate true qi into his body.
As soon as the qi entered, Old Master Qian’s body began to tremble violently.
“There’s a reaction!”
Qian Weidong’s eyes lit up, starting to see Ye Qiu in a new light.
The three medical sages had examined his father for hours, using every method—including a tonic soup brewed from century-old ginseng—yet there’d been no sign of recovery.
Qian Weidong hadn’t expected Ye Qiu to elicit a response in mere moments with just two needles.
And Old Master Qian’s trembling grew faster, looking like he might wake any second.
“Jinglan’s son isn’t simple!” Qian Weidong thought, glancing at Ye Qiu.
Time ticked by.
Old Master Qian trembled for ten minutes, yet his eyes remained shut.
“What’s going on? Why hasn’t Old Qian woken up?” Li Chunfeng wondered aloud.
Nie Xue Liang added, “By all logic, he should’ve woken by now!”
Zhang Jiuling chuckled, “Patience. Watch quietly. Little Ye knows what he’s doing.”
Five more minutes passed.
Ye Qiu withdrew his finger but left the two needles in Old Master Qian’s brow and Baihui acupoint.
“Ye Qiu, why hasn’t Father woken up?” Qian Bowen asked urgently as soon as Ye Qiu stopped.
“Uncle, Grandpa won’t wake.”
What did that mean?
Qian Bowen paled. Did this mean his father was still doomed?
Tears welled in Qian Jinglan’s eyes, “Qiu’er, your grandpa… is he really beyond saving?”
“Mom, don’t cry. I wasn’t finished,” Ye Qiu said. “Grandpa won’t wake yet, but it won’t be long before he does.”
“Ye Qiu, what are you getting at?” Qian Bowen asked, confused. “First you say he won’t wake, then he will. You’re spinning me in circles.”
Ye Qiu explained, “I said earlier that Grandpa was cursed with the Art of Suppression. To wake him, there’s only one way: find the suppression object.”
“Once we locate and burn it, Grandpa will wake immediately.”
Qian Bowen’s expression softened, “Oh, that’s how it is. You could’ve said so—I nearly had a heart attack.”
“Ye Qiu, let me ask: is finding the suppression object the only way Father wakes?” Qian Weidong inquired.
Ye Qiu nodded, “Yes.”
“And if we can’t find it?”
“Then Grandpa will never wake.”
“That’s a problem,” Qian Weidong said, grimacing. “We don’t even know who cursed Father—how do we find the object?”
Qian Bowen added, “Father could be strict, but he never made enemies. I can’t imagine who’d want to harm him.”
Ye Qiu said, “Uncle, Second Uncle, don’t worry. I have a way to find the curser.”
Their faces lit up with surprise and hope as they asked in turn:
“Ye Qiu, are you serious?”
“You can really find them?”
Ye Qiu gave a wry smile, “Uncles, can’t you have a little faith in me? I’m not just a doctor—I’m your nephew. Don’t you trust me at all?”
Qian Bowen coughed awkwardly, “Ahem, it’s not that we don’t trust you, just…”
“Qiu’er, don’t tease your uncles,” Qian Jinglan shot him a look. “When will you find the curser?”
“No rush. I need to prepare some things first,” Ye Qiu said, turning to Qian Bowen. “Uncle, do we have a compass at home?”
“A compass?” Qian Bowen paused, then realized, “You mean the kind used for fortune-telling?”
“Yeah,” Ye Qiu nodded. “Do we have one? I need it.”
“Father liked those things. If I recall, there’s one in his desk drawer. Wait a sec.” Qian Bowen went to fetch it.
Once he left, the three medical sages couldn’t hold back their questions.
“Little Ye, what technique did you just use?”
“Why leave the needles in Old Qian’s acupoints?”
“Since you knew the suppression object needs to be found and burned for him to wake, what was the point of your treatment?”
“Seniors, I’ll answer one by one,” Ye Qiu said with a smile.
“The technique I used is the Soul-Anchoring Needle, a lesser-known Taoist acupuncture method. That’s probably why Elder Zhang hasn’t heard of it.”
“It’s effective against evil and curses.”
“Curses are malevolent forces, perfectly countered by the Soul-Anchoring Needle.”
“By leaving the needles in Grandpa’s acupoints, the curse can’t harm him further.”
“Have you noticed, seniors? After I applied the needles, Grandpa’s complexion improved. That shows they’re working.”
The three sages glanced at the bed. Indeed, Old Master Qian’s face had regained some color.
Ye Qiu continued, “As for Elder Li’s question—why bother with the needles if I knew the suppression object was needed to wake him—there are two reasons.”
“First, as I said, the needles stop the curse from worsening.”
“Second… Elder Li, could you check Grandpa’s pulse?”
Li Chunfeng was puzzled but complied. As he grasped Old Master Qian’s wrist, his heart skipped a beat.
