[{"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-69":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},2333995,4564,"Chapter 69: Three Kills, Development","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-69",69,"\u003Cp>Wang Yan sat quietly drinking tea, waiting for Chief Mai’s promised explanation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not long after, the phone rang; Wang Yan picked it up: “Hello.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wang, do you have time for an afternoon tea?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Same place. See you soon.” After hearing the other end agree, Wang Yan hung up immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside the walled village, a tea restaurant stood with several police officers loitering outside, ignoring them; Wang Yan led his men inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A gentleman does not stand beneath a crumbling wall—Wang Yan always met these foreigners on his own turf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Wang Yan enter, Chief Mai rose warmly with several senior police officials: “Hey, Wang, long time no see! How are you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Walking up to him, Wang Yan said: “You know I’ve never liked useless formalities.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ve got more guns, you’re tough, right?” Chief Mai shrugged. “Still no sense of humor. Fine, let’s sit down and talk.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They sat. Chief Mai ordered a bruised, swollen foreigner brought forward and pointed at him: “This is the fool who didn’t know his place. I’ve already given him a beating—hope you’ll spare him on my account.” He leaned closer, whispering: “His grandfather’s a legislator.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan ignored Chief Mai’s words and stared at the miserable man, his eyes filled with hatred: “Too light.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His men understood instantly. Amid Chief Mai’s furious expression, one of them punched the man unconscious, then stomped with all his strength—cracking one of his legs. The searing pain jolted the man awake; he screamed in agony.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chief Mai glared at Wang Yan, mouth open to speak—but seeing Wang Yan’s cold gaze, he wisely clamped his lips shut. He feared if he said another word, Wang Yan might kill the idiot outright, and then he’d have no way to explain it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan didn’t tolerate nonsense. A legislator? What the hell did that matter? Who was he trying to scare? Clearly, if Chief Mai dared beat him this badly, the man wasn’t even worth the effort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chief Mai controlled his emotions well, ordering his men to drag away the screaming fool. As if he’d never been pale with rage moments before, he smiled: “Wang, you’ve vented your anger. Now let’s talk business.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan nodded, signaling him to continue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ve built a street nearby—full of martial arts schools, and a large professional ring,” Chief Mai said confidently. “I don’t understand these things, but our fighters want to see your… martial arts? What do you think, Wang?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Chief Mai, don’t you know our fighting rules?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chief Mai smiled confidently: “Oh, of course I do. My fighters will follow your rules.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Heh. Fine. When? How many?” Wang Yan knew his goal—but he didn’t care. It was just another death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“One week from now. Three men. How’s that?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then it’s settled. I’m leaving.” Having finished, Wang Yan had no interest in further chatter. He stood and called out: “Uncle Deng, treat these cops to the best food and drink—charge it to me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, Master Wang,” Uncle Deng replied with a grin, puffing his large pipe. He was the manager of the Golden Building; Wang Yan had notified him earlier, and many had followed him. After victory, some returned to Foshan, others came with him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan nodded to Chief Mai and led his men out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That day, rumors spread across Hong Kong: Chinese martial arts would challenge Western boxing—and the hype grew louder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Night. The walled village’s council hall. The Chinese Martial Arts Association convened to discuss the match against Western boxing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Crush those Western scum,” shouted an old senior with a fiery temper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yeah, kill them! Who the hell do these bastards think they are, challenging us?” That was Li Qiankun speaking—he’d taken Li Shuwen as his master.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crowd erupted in fury; the consensus was four words: “Crush them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan raised his hand for silence. When the room quieted, he said: “Crushing them is certain—but Western boxing has its strengths. We must not underestimate them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone nodded seriously. Most here knew Western boxing; years ago, matches had been held in China, and they’d all encountered it. Worse still, Wang Yan himself had once sparred with them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan sipped tea: “They’re sending three. Who among us will fight?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The elderly remained silent—they were too old to swing fists anymore. This was no longer the old world of martial arts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll go,” Jin Shanzhao and Li Qiankun said in unison.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan nodded: “Good. One more.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one spoke casually. In this room of masters, few dared claim they could defeat all others. In ordinary matches without national honor at stake, they’d have rushed forward—but this was the Chinese Martial Arts Association’s first battle against foreigners. If anyone failed, no one could bear the blame. They must win. They must kill them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Li, beside him, stopped Ye Wen from speaking and shook his head: “Don’t look at each other. I’ll go.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan nodded: “Agreed. Go rest well. Don’t hold back.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Qiankun and Jin Shanzhao needed no introduction—they’d fought alongside Wang Yan for years, true killers. Zhang Li had once been the organization’s top assassin, had killed countless men; in recent years, training with the elders in the walled village, he’d improved greatly. Wang Yan trusted these three.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing them nod, Wang Yan turned to the heads of other schools: “After this, more people will come to learn martial arts. Go back and prepare—don’t be caught off guard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this, everyone laughed. Some laughed at the coming wealth, some at the inevitable victory, others at the next step in martial arts’ revival.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A week passed. In that time, word spread widely. Betting booths in the walled village and other underground rings burned hot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That day, in the arena outside the walled village, a central octagonal cage stood surrounded by a sea of spectators—so many, some stood without seats.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the front-row seats, Wang Yan and Chief Mai sat on either side.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wang, I can’t wait to see the outcome,” Chief Mai grinned smugly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan smiled faintly, turning his head: “Really? Funny—I feel the same.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chief Mai took a sip of tea confidently: “Then let’s see who wins.” The three fighters today were all champions—the highest-ranked, reigning three-time champions, in their prime. He didn’t believe those flashy tricks could win.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan ignored the foreigner. He’d already realized this was the scene from Ye Wen’s fight against the Cyclone. He’d lived here twenty years; aside from “The Grandmaster,” he’d only watched other Ye Wen films for entertainment, never memorized details—so he’d long forgotten them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, the match began. First round: Jin Shanzhao versus a champion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The host was a local who’d learned English here and was temporarily acting as announcer. He gave a lengthy introduction to the foreign champion, then barely mentioned Jin Shanzhao’s name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As both fighters prepared, a distant, stirring drumbeat echoed, accompanied by the crowd’s roaring cheers and shouts—the fight began.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’d already learned each other’s etiquette—of course, the foreigners would follow their own rules. Jin Shanzhao bowed; the champion copied him, then stepped back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The champion didn’t rush in—he danced around, searching for openings. Jin Shanzhao, tired of the delay, stomped forward with a straight punch aimed at the face. The champion dodged, seized the chance with a hook. Jin Shanzhao raised his left forearm to block, then closed in with an elbow strike to the face. The champion twisted his head aside, blocking with his other arm—then suddenly, his stomach exploded in pain; he instinctively curled forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jin Shanzhao seized the knee strike’s advantage, grabbed the champion’s hair, and drove another knee upward. The champion could no longer resist—he raised both hands to shield his face, avoiding a fatal blow—then a crushing force slammed his arms; Jin Shanzhao released his hair, and with the champion’s own momentum rising, he was lifted straight up. Jin Shanzhao unleashed a barrage of punches on his exposed chest—each heavier than the last.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the referee stepped in to separate them, the champion slowly collapsed against the cage wall. Jin Shanzhao had gone through all this trouble only to follow his own rules—if not, he’d have pierced the throat outright.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The crowd remained silent as the referee announced the result. They’d been quiet since Jin Shanzhao’s first heavy punch landed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only when they heard the champion was dead did the foreigners grow angry—some didn’t know the rules, had never seen such fights. They shouted for justice, causing a commotion. But it was easily handled—Chief Mai himself came forward to explain: no strikes to vital points were allowed, but otherwise, no rules—until one side surrendered or died.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Returning to his seat, Chief Mai’s face was grim; he pretended calm by sipping tea. First fat doesn’t mean fat—there were still two rounds. Best of three. No rush.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan glanced at him coldly, saying nothing. The facts spoke for themselves—why waste words?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Qiankun stepped in. He traded blows, used a mountain-pressing shoulder strike to shove his opponent into the cage wall, then drove an elbow into his chest—heart stopped—followed by a flurry of punches that killed him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, Zhang Li faced the Cyclone. He danced and struck, easily winning—killing him outright.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During the match, Wang Yan quietly asked Ye Wen: how long would it take to defeat the Cyclone under these rules? He hadn’t sparred with Ye Wen in ages and didn’t know his current level. Of course, Ye Wen didn’t want to be beaten senseless—he avoided sparring whenever possible; one-sided beatings were pointless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing Wang Yan’s question, Ye Wen smiled and held up three fingers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan chuckled, sipped tea, and turned to Chief Mai: “Chief Mai, these events are excellent. I think we should encourage more exchanges.” He slid a check across the table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course, naturally,” Chief Mai forced a smile, glanced at the check’s amount, froze, blinked, looked again—then grinned and lifted his teacup: “Wang, you’re right. We truly need more exchange—only through exchange can we progress.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan glanced over—the check was gone. He smiled: “Good. Then it’s settled. Chief Mai, enjoy yourself. I’ll take my leave.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chief Mai beamed as he bid Wang Yan farewell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This match drew countless Hong Kong residents to the walled village—many had never come before, unaware of how thriving it had become. Their spending fueled its growth. It also firmly established the reputation of the Chinese Martial Arts Association and Martial Arts Street—applications to train poured in nonstop.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tasting success, Chief Mai became a procurer, constantly bringing in Western boxing champions from Europe and America. The ring grew bloodier; the walled village’s expansion accelerated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Wang Yan’s walled village flourished, the global situation shifted unpredictably—war once again teetered on the brink.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>June: The Korean War erupted. The United States, acting as father figure, patrolled warships through the Taiwan Strait. July: It intervened in the Korean War.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>October: General Peng, sword drawn, led his army across the river.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Affected by this, Hong Kong land prices plummeted; the walled village expanded again on a massive scale. Meanwhile, Zhou Guangyao shipped vast quantities of supplies northward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Domestically, the government launched an anti-bandit campaign to eradicate all threats. Nearly 200,000 bandits and tyrants entrenched in Guangdong and Guangxi were no match—they were pushed back step by step.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a result, countless scum fled south to Hong Kong. They were identical to last year’s wave—the second defense of the walled village began.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The outcome was inevitable. After slaughtering many of the scum, the survivors obediently worked as unpaid laborers. This was a time of grand construction—these bloated, well-fed men were strong laborers, skilled workers, contributing bricks and mortar to the walled village’s prosperity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By year’s end, the walled village’s council hall grew increasingly solemn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Baosen and other veteran doctors and martial artists sat in the front row; behind them, the second-generation disciples watched intently as a figure moved fluidly in the center.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan executed horse stance straight punches, high front kicks, tiger-crawling ground movements, or open-stance twists. After completing the routine, he closed his eyes, absorbing its essence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one dared breathe, fearing they’d interrupt Wang Yan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Long moments passed. Wang Yan opened his eyes, clapped his hands, and cried out: “Excellent!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instantly, the young disciples roared in celebration; the elders exhaled deeply, eyes red with tears, smiling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Gong Baosen and others developed the first “Physical Strengthening Exercise” in 1946, after four years of intense research, they’d finally produced the second version.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Compared to the first, the second version advanced rapidly. Now, one full routine took about twenty minutes, with moderate intensity—perfect for children. Adults might struggle, as their bodies were fully developed and lacked flexibility; many movements couldn’t be performed properly, reducing effectiveness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its effects were inferior to the first version, given the lower physical demand. But with long-term practice, physical conditioning improved significantly. As movements became instinctive, combat ability rose. By age ten or eleven, if one wished to specialize in martial arts, they’d already have a solid foundation and could advance quickly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the crowd quieted, Wang Yan said: “Don’t celebrate too soon. The second exercise is much better than the first. But children can’t practice daily—they need rest intervals. The key issue now lies with the secret formula.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As with the first version, maximum effectiveness still required the secret formula. Without it, relying only on food and meat couldn’t fully replenish what was lost—long-term practice would damage the body.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After years of research, and with medical equipment acquired from captured foreigners, they’d made progress: replaced two expensive herbs. Efficacy dropped by half—but acceptable. All medicine carries poison. If side effects could be eliminated, replacing all herbs with cheap, abundant alternatives—even if only slightly effective—would still be a success.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan turned to the elderly gentleman in charge of the formula: “Mr. Li, any difficulties with the formula?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the mention of the formula, their moods darkened. All eyes turned to Mr. Li. They’d been researching for twenty years—and still nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mr. Li understood Wang Yan’s meaning: was he asking what was missing? After all, Wang Yan’s medical knowledge was well known. Mr. Li sighed: “Nothing else. It’s our fault. Nearly twenty years. We’ve replaced two herbs. I don’t know if I’ll ever see that day.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone understood. There were already plenty of doctors—both Chinese and Western—highly skilled. Adding more wouldn’t help. All they could do was continue refining the exercise—no one knew when the formula would be solved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a dull discussion, the crowd dispersed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan contacted friends in the mainland, sending them both the first and second “Physical Strengthening Exercises,” along with all notes and problems—nothing more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Honestly, Wang Yan no longer expected the formula. Let fate decide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Er lay curled in Wang Yan’s arms. Seeing he remained silent, she asked: “What are you thinking about?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hmm?” Wang Yan stirred, pulling her closer: “Just thinking about the formula. I doubt I’ll ever see it solved.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nonsense. What do you mean ‘never’? It’s been twenty years—maybe another twenty will do? We can wait.” Gong Er tapped him lightly; she disliked his pessimistic tone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, we can wait. But I’m getting impatient now. What should I do?” Wang Yan fumbled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wasn’t it just… Oh no…”\u003C\u002Fp>",2518,"2026-06-20T21:08:40.823Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","4f09c0eb1003d6c7729d910b7a7c9fe03057737904821dd71ab9ae597c8880e8","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-70","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-68",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Ffrom-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--cover.jpg"]