[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film-":3,"chapter-from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-60":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","From the God of Medicine: A Journey Through Film and TV Worlds",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2333986,4564,"Chapter 60","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-60",60,"\u003Cp>Wang Yan stayed at the Gong residence for three days under Ma San’s murderous gaze, but never saw Gong Er—he guessed she had been sent away to study. During this time, he exchanged martial philosophy and combat experience with Gong Baosen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fighting and killing come down to strength, speed, and precision, combined with efficient, energy-saving techniques.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In experience, Wang Yan wasn’t far behind—he’d certainly swept through Hong Kong. But Gong Baosen’s body had been forged day after day, year after year. In literature, no first place; in martial arts, no second. The title of Jianghukangbazi  was earned through real blood and steel, and many of Gong Baosen’s insights gave Wang Yan fresh inspiration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Baosen also gained greatly from his exchanges with Wang Yan. Wang Yan knew too much—boxing, jujitsu, Muay Thai, and more—opening Gong Baosen’s eyes and enriching him immensely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for the Gong family’s secret Sixty-Four Hands, Gong Baosen taught them to Wang Yan as mere reference. After all, with what Wang Yan already knew, these techniques were nothing special.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After studying them, Wang Yan understood—they weren’t remarkable. Special techniques, combined with power-generation methods into lethal combos. Wang Yan knew all of them already; he just hadn’t linked them together. Perhaps Gong Baosen had stumbled upon the right combinations by chance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The real treasures, however, were the herbal formulas passed down by ancestors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Poor in literature, rich in martial arts” wasn’t just a saying. The foundation of martial training lies in the body—constant forging and polishing inevitably cause damage and depletion. To repair this damage and raise the body’s limits, the generations-old herbal formulas for strengthening tendons and bones, replenishing qi and blood, and consolidating the root and nurturing the origin were the key. These were forged through countless lives consumed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The herbs required for these formulas were all extremely valuable—ordinary people couldn’t afford them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After learning this, Wang Yan developed an interest in traditional Chinese medicine. Though he had no medical license in the real world, it wouldn’t hurt to use them to care for his parents.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Wang Yan’s interest, Gong Baosen didn’t take it seriously—he simply copied a formula for him. After all, Wang Yan was only twenty and already had that physique; the formulas were useless to him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“These past days, I’ve greatly appreciated your hospitality, Master Gong. If you ever need anything, send for me—I’ll lend every ounce of my strength. I bid you farewell, Master.” At the Gong residence’s main gate, Wang Yan bowed to Gong Baosen and took his leave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Go, go. I’m waiting for the day you speak of.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan nodded to Lao Jiang, who held the monkey nearby, then turned and headed south without pause.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Watching Wang Yan’s tall, striding figure disappear into the distance, Lao Jiang slapped the monkey’s restless paw and said, “Master, forgive this old Jiang for speaking out of turn—you gave him everything we have. Aren’t you afraid…?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No need to fear. I’ve watched people for my whole life—I’ve never misjudged one. This Wang boy is a true figure.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beside him, Ma San fumed: “Master, he—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before he could finish, Gong Baosen snapped: “Shut up. He’s twenty. You’re thirty. Have you lived all these years in a dog’s belly?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Comparing people kills; comparing goods discards them. Before meeting Wang Yan, Gong Baosen thought his eldest disciple was decent—excellent even. But after these days of deep discussion and exchange, Wang Yan’s speech, his bearing—Gong Baosen himself had to raise a thumb and say, “I yield.” Thus, he grew even more displeased with Ma San. So what if the man kicked him across the room? Instead of training harder to regain honor, why act like a nagging woman?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ignoring Ma San’s resentment, Gong Baosen swept his sleeve and returned inside with Lao Jiang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Left alone, Ma San stood outside the gate, face pale, fists clenched, teeth gritted, eyes cold as ice, staring at the direction Wang Yan had vanished—silent for a long time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan had challenged every martial school in Fengtian precisely because he knew Gong Baosen’s character and breadth of mind would never stoop to assassinate him over empty pride. A bunch of useless fools couldn’t beat him and still had the nerve to seek his help? If not for Gong Baosen’s presence, Wang Yan wouldn’t have dared to swagger around under his nose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Was Gong Baosen’s status a joke? He’d served as a sword-bearing guard for the Qing court, head of the imperial household, and led a vast network of fellow disciples and students. Add to that his status as a northern martial arts patriarch—could he possibly have no ties to the true ruler of the Northeast, “Young Marshal Zhang”? The warlord’s troops had only recently entered the pass to end the central civil wars—planes, artillery, hundreds of thousands of rifles. How many lives did Wang Yan have to waste playing chicken?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fortunately, Gong Baosen was a hero with a heart for the nation and the people—and Wang Yan had thus begun at an extraordinary height.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He planned to fight his way from north to south, meeting the nation’s masters, making his name known. To accomplish anything, one must have reputation—must command a hundred responses, draw crowds like clouds gathering.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Leaning on a great tree offers shade. Wang Yan’s journey wouldn’t guarantee peace, but it would spare him countless petty troubles—like the kind in “The Master.” There might be assassinations, but overt intimidation by power would never happen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan traveled southward—through Beijing, Tianjin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Tianjin, Wang Yan paused, for Li Shuwen, the Divine Spear, lived here in retirement, training his disciples.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After inquiries, Wang Yan found his way there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before a large mansion in the northern gate of Nanyuan District, Wang Yan announced himself to the disciples at the gate and waited patiently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had enough standing—not just because of Gong Baosen’s connection, but because he’d swept through the martial elites of Beijing and Tianjin. His name was now known across the martial world. Li Shuwen, as a senior, must at least meet this fierce young disciple.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a while, the disciple returned: “The Master agrees to see you. Follow me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan followed him through the front hall into a spacious courtyard, where a group trained fiercely. An old man sat on a high-backed chair, sipping tea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Wang Yan approach, the old man looked up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their eyes met. Wang Yan felt the old man’s gaze blaze with brilliance—a supreme, domineering aura crashing over him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan didn’t challenge the elder’s gaze—what was the point? He met the old man’s eyes, smiled slightly, and bowed deeply: “Disciple Wang Yan, pays respects to Master Li.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re good. What do you want?” Li Shuwen glanced at Wang Yan and returned to his tea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan wasn’t one to dawdle. The old man had lived a glorious life—he didn’t need another admirer. Still, a little flattery was necessary. He bowed again: “Master, your name has echoed for decades, upholding martial glory. I came first to see a true dragon, second to seek your guidance.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though aged, Li Shuwen remained robust, though no longer at his peak. His temper, however, burned fiercely. He glared at Wang Yan, voice booming: “So young and already learning to flatter? Don’t talk about dragons. Go train first.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At his words, the training group fell silent. They moved with practiced speed, clearing a space. A tall, muscular man, under thirty, bare-chested, stepped forward, bowed respectfully to Li Shuwen, then turned to Wang Yan and bowed: “Ba Ji, Li Qiankun. Please instruct.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Watching their smooth movements, Wang Yan knew they’d seen this scene many times. Li Qiankun was clearly the most outstanding third-generation disciple.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan stepped to the center, facing Li Qiankun, and returned the bow: “Bagua, Wang Yan. Please.” Ever since accepting Gong Baosen as his nominal master, Wang Yan introduced himself as “Bagua.” Gong Baosen had already spread the word.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Qiankun assumed his stance. Was this form useful? Of course. But since Wang Yan had gained clear self-awareness of his strength, he’d abandoned such empty displays.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Li Qiankun finished his pose, Wang Yan kicked straight out. Li Qiankun reacted quickly—but his speed paled beside Wang Yan’s. He barely dodged the kick. Before he could recover, Wang Yan’s fist came. Thanks to his lineage and direct training from a master, Li Qiankun barely raised his guard. The force slammed into him—he staggered back several steps. As he gritted his teeth and raised his arm to counter, a gust of wind swept his face—Wang Yan’s size-44 foot halted inches from his nose. He froze instantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This wasn’t wuxia—no clashing blows across multiple points. Real combat decided victory or death in an instant. The slower one died.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan calmly lowered his leg and bowed to Li Qiankun, who still trembled: “Your courtesy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Months of combat and daily refinement had raised all his physical attributes to 25. His height increased by one centimeter to 184 cm; his weight, he estimated, reached 200 pounds. In one-on-one unarmed combat, he was nearly unmatched. But against a group? Even if eight or nine peak-level fighters like Li Qiankun surrounded him, he might kill four or five before dying himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan then bowed to Li Shuwen: “Master.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Shuwen praised: “Good, good. Your strength rivals mine in my prime. The new waves push the old. The young replace the old.” After a sigh, he said: “Come, sit.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The disciples, seeing their master invite Wang Yan to sit, quickly brought a teacup and poured tea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan thanked them and sat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I noticed your techniques weren’t purely Chinese—you used Western boxing styles?” Li Shuwen asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan knew Li Shuwen had fought many foreigners, so he understood Western styles. He replied: “I studied abroad in America—learned Western boxing, Southeast Asian boxing, Japanese karate, and more.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hmm. Absorbing many styles, forging your own path—good.” Li Shuwen approved. At his level, techniques no longer mattered—only killing power. He paused, then added: “Since you studied abroad, why return to martial arts? In today’s world, men like you are highly valued.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan knew this question well. To gather like-minded men and earn the approval of true patriots—and their secret formulas—he’d answered this countless times. His reply came instantly: “I believe…” He repeated the same speech he’d given Gong Baosen. He had no guilt—he wasn’t deceiving the elder. He truly meant it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After listening, Li Shuwen fell silent, his voice weary: “Good. Your path may be right—but I won’t live to see that day.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan didn’t offer empty comfort. Li Shuwen instantly regained his vigor—as if he’d never spoken those words: “Stay a few days. Talk with this old man.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan rose and bowed: “Thank you, Master, for your kindness.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the following weeks, Wang Yan learned much from Li Shuwen: secret Ba Ji techniques, Li’s great spear, and exclusive herbal formulas. More importantly, he absorbed Li’s combat experience and life wisdom—all things Wang Yan needed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He also casually trained the disciples, passing on his synthesized insights. These teachings, once absorbed, greatly benefited them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan’s foundation was solid, his basics strong, and he learned quickly. After a month, he bid farewell to this legendary master. He knew they’d never meet again. At the gate, he bowed deeply to the old man standing to see him off. Under Li Shuwen’s smiling gaze, he continued south—without looking back. Only one thought lingered: “Heroes grow old.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Alone, Wang Yan continued south, challenging, learning, improving—undefeated, his name growing louder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In July 1931, Wang Yan arrived in Shanghai, now an international metropolis—but everywhere, foreign concessions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>News of Wang Yan’s arrival had spread. The martial circles here had already sharpened their claws, eager to teach this arrogant boy a lesson.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As usual, Wang Yan, amid their disdain, swept through Shanghai’s martial world—including the Green Gang’s top fighters. Though humiliated and resentful, none dared extreme acts—after all, more had fallen before him. They took comfort in that.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One day, Wang Yan arrived at a courtyard on Shanghai’s outskirts and knocked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, the gate opened. An old servant in blue robes stepped out: “You are?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan bowed: “Disciple Wang Yan. I’ve heard Master Sun is here. I’ve come to pay respects. Kindly announce me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old man recognized him: “Ah! You! The Master said if you came, to bring you right in. Follow me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan thanked him politely and entered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the courtyard, he saw an old man with ruddy complexion and sharp spirit, moving with agile precision through a martial form.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The servant invited Wang Yan to sit beside him, served tea, then withdrew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan sat quietly, sipping tea, watching the old man’s every movement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Long moments passed. The old man finished, exhaled, took a towel from the servant, wiped his sweat, and walked over: “Waited long?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan rose immediately, bowed deeply: “Disciple Wang Yan, pays respects to Master Sun.” Then he straightened: “Master, don’t speak so. To witness your martial art is a great honor—I’ve gained immensely.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was Sun Lutang, one of the Republic’s great warriors—master of Taiji, Bagua, and Xingyi, founder of the Sun-style Taiji, who had once fought Dong Haichuan, Gong Baosen’s master. By lineage, Wang Yan was his grandson.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hah, smooth talker. Sit. No need for formalities,” Sun Lutang laughed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They sat. Sun Lutang took the tea from the servant: “Since your fame rose after your fight in Beijing, many old comrades wrote to me urging me to meet you. Just recently, Tong Chen wrote, calling you the next pillar of the martial world. Now I see you—truly, a remarkable man.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan thought: You’re really good at flattery—I know exactly what I look like. But outwardly, he bowed humbly: “Master, your words shame me. I dare not accept such praise. I owe much to Master Li and other elders for their kindness and guidance.” He bowed toward the north in respect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hah, enough joking. I know why you’re here. Stay awhile. Let’s exchange ideas,” Sun Lutang said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sun Lutang had actually looked forward to Wang Yan’s arrival. What he’d said wasn’t false. He’d been searching for a gifted successor. At his age, he only hoped to see the new waves surpass the old—to ensure the lineage endured, the spirit lived on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you, Master, for your kindness. I dare not speak of exchange—I beg your guidance,” Wang Yan bowed deeply.\u003C\u002Fp>",2389,"2026-06-20T21:08:40.823Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","100ee26a25216290c2862116e69a95cb40bbfc6bd82cff088593b964b091fe25","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-61","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-59",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Ffrom-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--cover.jpg"]