[{"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-9":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},2333935,4564,"Chapter 9","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-9",9,"\u003Cp>It was a sunny afternoon, and Wang Yan was tirelessly making nuisance calls.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he connected one call and launched into a long monologue, the other end didn’t show impatience, didn’t curse, didn’t hang up abruptly—instead, they listened in perfect silence, occasionally asking key questions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan knew his chance had come. After some discussion, they arranged to view the property the next day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, two people came to view the property—a couple about to get married.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man was Zhang Hai, a mid-level tech manager at an internet company, earning a million yuan a year. The woman’s surname was Liu; her given name was unknown—he was a guy, why would he casually ask his future wife’s name? She was also a corporate manager, slightly less well-paid than Zhang Hai, but not by much. They were about two years older than Wang Yan, around thirty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Due to their wedding timeline, they didn’t choose a new apartment. After viewing several options, they closed on a second-hand unit in a bustling area: 120 square meters, 12 million yuan. They’d originally insisted on 12.5 million, but Wang Yan stepped in and settled the owner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan’s skills were now sufficient—he spoke with poise, and he’d saved them a huge sum. The couple held him in high regard, and the owner had no complaints either; neither was short on money. In the end, Wang Yan collected a one-percent commission, and everyone was delighted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This deal earned Wang Yan nearly 100,000 yuan—his entire income from the past year. Of course, the money wouldn’t arrive immediately; it required completing procedures, taking one to two months.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The success of this deal made Wang Yan realize: stop wasting time on useless things. First, earn money. Once he had enough, arrange for his parents to travel well, then find a scenic place to enjoy life. As his abilities grew increasingly terrifying, earning money would only get easier. Once he’d made enough, why bother with useless pursuits? By then, his value would have been proven countless times.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the following period, life was ordinary. Wang Yan continued his previous routine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Until one evening at the end of March, while reading, Wang Yan received another system notification.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Chen Yongren from ‘Infernal Affairs’ wishes: redemption!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Chen Yongren’s wish, Wang Yan smiled: “Chen Yongren definitely regrets it. Doesn’t want to keep struggling in this sea of suffering.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thought flashed through his mind—he remembered this world was dangerous, full of drive-by shootings in the film. He decided to allocate all his attribute points to Constitution. But he didn’t rush to spend them; he still preferred adding points gradually, to allow time for adaptation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He opened his computer, logged into his account, and started watching “Infernal Affairs” Parts One, Two, and Three. He also looked up some information about Hong Kong at the time. Honestly, beyond a few Hong Kong crime films, he knew little about Hong Kong—he couldn’t speak Cantonese. And as for triads and criminal organizations? Understanding them in the short term was no simple task.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan stopped worrying about it. If he waited until he understood everything completely, when would he ever get started? Besides, this was a chance to improve himself—unknown challenges were the best kind, weren’t they?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pulled the curtains shut, drank some water, and lay down on the bed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without hesitation, he pulled up the interface and selected “Travel.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A blue flash—and Wang Yan vanished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan opened his eyes and was stunned to find himself standing at the entrance of a prison cell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Wang Yan frozen, the guard behind him shoved him hard: “Fucking idiot, what’re you staring at? Get inside!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan stumbled forward, turned to look at the guard without speaking—he realized he understood every word the guard said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guard, seeing this, grew angrier: “Lookin’ at me? Wanna hit me? Fucking scum.” He raised his foot to kick Wang Yan inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan reacted instantly—before the guard could even lift his foot, he sidestepped into the cell, apologizing repeatedly in Cantonese: “Sorry, officer, I spaced out, spaced out, haha.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Wang Yan’s compliance, the guard stomped his foot in frustration, unable to vent his rage. His face twitched as he muttered: “Don’t cause trouble, you little shit. Watch yourself.” He slammed the cell door shut and walked off, cursing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only then did Wang Yan take stock of the room: four bunk beds, spacious, decent conditions. Three other inmates stared at him with what they thought were menacing glares.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He chose not to accept the system’s assigned identity information—now wasn’t the right time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Having watched plenty of Hong Kong triad films, Wang Yan knew what this meant—he’d prepared mentally.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Stop the bullshit. All three of you, come at once.” Wang Yan didn’t waste words, gesturing to them with a finger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To these loudmouthed gangsters, this was an unforgivable insult. Without hesitation, all three charged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan dodged the first punch, ducked low, and slammed a heavy strike into the man’s abdomen, sending him retching. He then stepped back, kicked off hard—his explosive power granted unmatched speed, letting him evade the second man’s flying kick. By then, the third man had raised his fist—how could he match Wang Yan’s speed? Wang Yan landed a straight punch to his jaw. He spun and kicked the second man in the lower back, sending him sprawling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the blink of an eye—barely twenty seconds—Wang Yan rendered all three combat-ineffective. One clutched his stomach, gagging; one passed out cold; the other lay on the floor groaning, clutching his waist. Wang Yan pounced like a wolf on wounded prey, raining down punches and kicks—each blow targeted vital points, leaving them writhing in agony. The unconscious one even woke up from the pain; the other two were beyond screaming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guards, drawn by the screams, arrived and loaded the three onto stretchers to take them to the infirmary. Seeing how brutal Wang Yan was, the arriving guard issued a stern warning but imposed no further punishment. He was human—he was afraid. Luckily, the previous guard hadn’t returned; otherwise, Wang Yan would’ve been locked in solitary.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Through this fight, Wang Yan now understood the typical level of gangsters and street thugs—and he felt considerably more at ease.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He picked an empty top bunk and lay down, finally able to calmly receive the system’s information.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The system assigned him an identity: a man who illegally crossed from the mainland in 1977. Due to policy at the time, he was immediately issued an ID. After years of struggle, he rose to become a small gang boss in Tuen Mun, controlling one street with over twenty men. He’d been imprisoned for injuring someone, sentenced to one year—he was currently serving time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn’t in the legendary Stanley Prison—he was in a regular detention center housing short-term inmates. Wang Yan wasn’t important enough yet for Stanley; that’s where the real bosses were locked up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The system also kindly granted him Cantonese Level 2.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No other information was provided—he’d have to figure everything out himself. The current date was September 1990; he wouldn’t be released until September 1991.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan couldn’t accept it. At least give him a cop role—he could’ve gone undercover! Instead, he got the purest, most basic gangster identity. He cursed the damn system. But the system remained stubborn—he didn’t even know if the damn thing had intelligence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a few silent complaints, Wang Yan accepted it. There was no escape—he had no choice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He opened the system interface and checked his stats:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Attributes: Strength 12\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Agility 12\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Constitution 13\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Spirit 13\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unallocated points: 4\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After some hesitation, Wang Yan didn’t immediately add points to Constitution. He’d noticed his Constitution gains were slowing down—wouldn’t it get even slower later? So he decided to train first, and only add points when he couldn’t train further or faced an emergency—maximize efficiency.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stopped daydreaming, warmed up, and began exercising.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In real life, over the past month, Wang Yan’s training intensity had dropped sharply due to survival pressures. Now, locked up for a year, he’d train relentlessly—perfect opportunity. The prison was full of scum; he could train both combat and physique simultaneously.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Plus, upon returning, the system offered free body maintenance—no worries about recovery. He could train like a man possessed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan had arrived in the afternoon; the fight hadn’t taken long. He’d been exercising nonstop and was now starving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, after much waiting, the guards unlocked the cells and herded everyone to the mess hall for dinner. The meal was plentiful but greasy-free, tasteless at best. It was prison slop, and Wang Yan, having eaten northern Chinese food for thirty years, found it utterly unpalatable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan began planning how to get some cash—to bribe the guards and improve his treatment. He needed proper nutrition—he trained hard every day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had zero money on him. As for his outside underlings? He figured they’d scattered long ago—no hope left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After much thought, he decided to start with the inmates around him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He ate quietly, listening to others talk about prison life and outside affairs—gradually, he pieced together a general picture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hong Kong had countless gangs: Hong Xing, Dong Xing, Ho Lian Sheng, and dozens of smaller ones. Reality mirrored this—perhaps the system created this world for balance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The system’s setup guaranteed Wang Yan could only develop in the triad world—once a gangster, always a gangster. If he tried going straight, no one would hire him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this world, there was no turning back. The moment you wanted to quit, that’s when you’d die.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dinner was eaten in a relatively friendly atmosphere—after all, the prison held members of Hong Kong’s various gangs; enemies exchanging curses was normal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After dinner, the gangsters shoved and jostled back to their cells. Wang Yan wandered the room, digesting his meal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did some light exercise, tidied up, and went to bed. He had the cell to himself—no one snored, farted, or coughed. He slept soundly till morning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He woke, warmed up, washed up, and it was breakfast time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then came guard-assigned labor—prison wasn’t a resort. Besides, Wang Yan hadn’t bribed anyone, so his work wasn’t easy. He welcomed it. Though the labor didn’t match his targeted training, it greatly improved his endurance. Good endurance? That needed no explanation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While Wang Yan worked hard to build endurance, the junior gangsters weren’t happy: “Fucking asshole, thinks he’s too cool to bow to the hierarchy here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During break time, over a dozen men surrounded Wang Yan. Two stepped aside, revealing a rough-looking gangster: “Kid, I’m from Hong Xing. Which gang you with? Don’t you know the rules?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan looked at the group of twenty-something delinquents coming to lecture him on gang etiquette. He shook his head—had nothing to say.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All unarmed, no guns—he feared no one. Without words, he swung a roundhouse punch into the leader’s ribs, then kicked his stomach hard, sending him flying. Wang Yan put everything into it—knocked out several teeth. The dazed boss, spitting blood, yelled: “Fuck, beat him! Fuck him!” The underlings, hearing their boss’s order, rushed in to swarm Wang Yan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon came cries of “Ouch! Ouch!” Wang Yan hurt too—he could handle four or five gangsters at most, but not without injury. Even the worst gangsters had street-fighting experience; ordinary people couldn’t match them. Wang Yan’s strong spirit let him grit his teeth, stay clear-headed, and fight them to a stalemate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the end, everyone lay on the floor. Wang Yan stood up, bruised and swollen, each movement sending sharp pain through him. He staggered to the leader, gathered his strength, and unleashed another barrage of punches and kicks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guards had been watching from afar. Seeing the outcome, they stepped in. They struck Wang Yan twice with their batons—he screamed in pain—and dragged him away, then ordered the onlooker gangsters back to work: “No trouble!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once they left, the onlooker gangsters began gossiping—everyone loved gossip. They asked who this guy was and why he was so tough. It was normal—no one dared provoke Hong Xing. And Wang Yan could fight? Don’t think all gangsters were Chan Ho-nam. Wang Yan guessed his record could rank among famous fighters and double-flower red sticks. Everyone was human—no one could be a boxing champion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan had become famous overnight. But everything had a price—he’d bear the consequences. Nearly a quarter of the prison’s inmates were Hong Xing underlings—hundreds of them. Pulling one weed up pulled out the whole root—he’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. The enmity wasn’t lethal yet, but he’d suffer daily—black eyes and swollen faces for the foreseeable future.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guards taking Wang Yan away saved him. If those beaten gangsters recovered, he’d likely be crippled. He walked slowly; the guards didn’t hurry. They understood—he was barely standing after that beating. The two baton blows were just symbolic, a show of authority.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the way, Wang Yan reflected on the fight, analyzing his experience. Previously, he’d only trained with single professional sparring partners—he’d never faced such a group. His advantage lay in his broad, diverse training and quick reflexes. Otherwise, with his body only slightly stronger than a gangster’s, he’d be in ICU now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fighting, no matter who or how many—you rely on the body. This fight had drained him completely, exhausted. Many have fought before—anyone who’s lived has. Afterward, you feel utterly drained, even trembling. Wang Yan felt that way—he didn’t tremble, thanks to years of training that let him control it. But his real weakness was lack of real combat experience and poor control—he could knock someone down with six-tenths effort, but used nine-tenths, wasting energy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan summarized three points: one, body; two, technique; three, control.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He spoke much, but soon arrived at the infirmary. Doctors examined and treated each patient. Wang Yan’s injuries looked bad, but he’d avoided vital areas—just some ointment and rest would do. They gave him a bed to recover.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan lay on the bed, looking around. The infirmary was large—evidently built from accumulated experience—with many beds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he looked, he spotted the three men he’d beaten yesterday—they’d seen him too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After resting, their injuries had swollen, making them harder to recognize. The three lay in a row, staring hard at Wang Yan, trying to confirm if he was their attacker.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their eyes met—confirmation was clear. They burst into laughter, drawing furious curses from the Hong Xing thugs still groaning nearby. Clearly not big gang members, they quickly apologized, then kept glaring and winking at Wang Yan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yan laughed. He couldn’t blame himself—he had zero brains. They weren’t leaving the cell—they’d be stuck with him again. Didn’t they think about how to retaliate after returning? Just teasing him now?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He ignored them—and the useless curses from the scum. He closed his eyes, rested, and let them keep yelling. That’s how it worked—ignore them, and they’d tire themselves out. He was already planning how to retaliate once he recovered—and he welcomed it. As long as they didn’t kill or cripple him, this kind of full-body training and combat practice? The more, the better—he couldn’t ask for more.\u003C\u002Fp>",2516,"2026-06-20T21:08:40.823Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","26afc4df50e934deb82e8cef00b48692c76d7682a25aa9b712e8e1b0588a2276","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-10","from-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--chapter-8",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Ffrom-the-god-of-medicine-a-journey-through-film--cover.jpg"]