Chapter 116: Is that all?

"That's what Uncle Qin said!" Lin Feng jumped up with a "whoosh", forcing a confident smile on his face, and clasped his fists toward Qin Xiaotian: "Since we're comparing skills, I, Lin Feng, will first cast a brick to attract jade—please excuse my clumsiness!"

He walked to the cleared space in the middle of the hall, where servants had already brought a low couch and brought forward a sallow‑complexioned, listless middle‑aged man. It was clear they had been prepared in advance.

"This person has long suffered from a chronic headache; when it flares up, the pain is unbearable." Lin Feng gave a brief introduction, then took out a row of gleaming silver needles from his personal needle case.

He flicked his wrist, and the silver needles seemed to come alive at his fingertips, tracing afterimages. Then he held his breath, focused, and with extreme speed located the points, twisted, and flicked the needles in one fluid motion. In the blink of an eye, the middle‑aged man's head and neck were studded with over a dozen silver needles. The whole process was smooth and graceful, quite a spectacle, eliciting soft applause from those who didn't know what was going on.

"What a splendid 'Chasing Wind Thirteen Needles'!"

"No wonder it's the Lin family's secret art—just that hand speed alone would take years to master!"

Lin Feng listened to the surrounding praise, his chin lifting slightly, a satisfied look appearing on his face. After finishing the needling, the middle‑aged man's previously furrowed brows seemed to relax a bit, but the effect didn't look particularly obvious.

At that moment, on the Qin family's side, a white‑haired, refined‑looking elder rose to his feet. He was the medical luminary invited by the Qin clan, Hu Yishan, known as Old Hu.

Old Hu stepped forward, examined Lin Feng's needling technique closely, took the patient's pulse, then stroked his beard and spoke slowly: "Hmm, the Lin family's 'Chasing Wind Thirteen Needles' is executed with pure skill, the point selection is precise, and it indeed has its unique merits. Young Master Lin, at such a tender age to achieve this level is no small feat—your family truly has a worthy successor."

Though the words sounded like praise, there was no ripple in Old Hu's deep eyes. Several old hands present caught the drift—he praised the technique's proficiency and the family's deep roots, but said nothing about the therapeutic effect. The comment gave the Lin family face while subtly implying that it was merely flashy with shallow foundations. The Qin clan's invited expert indeed has high standards.

Lin Feng failed to notice the subtlety, taking it as an endorsement from an authority and feeling even more pleased; he glanced at Zhang Jun again, half‑hidden, his gaze full of provocation.

Just as everyone thought the "skill" demonstration would proceed in order, family by family, Zhang Jun suddenly rose to his feet.

"Old Hu," he said, his voice not loud but carrying clearly across the hall, "this gentleman's headache has its root not in the meridians but in qi and blood. Young Master Lin's needling, though skillful, likely only treats the symptom, not the cause."

As soon as he spoke, the entire hall was stunned.

The pride on Lin Feng's face froze instantly, then flushed crimson: "What nonsense are you spouting! My needling……"

Old Hu was also taken aback; he raised a hand to signal Lin Feng to calm down, turned to Zhang Jun, and his eyes gained a few more shades of scrutiny: "Oh? What lofty opinion do you have, young friend?"

"I may be unworthy, but I know a bit of the art of Qi Huang," Zhang Jun said modestly yet firmly. "May I also give it a try?"

"You?" Lin Feng exclaimed as if hearing the biggest joke, "You can't even produce sincerity, yet you dare to spout grandiose words here? Knowing just a smidgeon, you dare to question the Lin family's needling art?"

"Exactly, you haven't even grown a full coat of hair, and you dare to come out and make a fool of yourself?"

"I think he's just trying to stir up the crowd to win favor!"

Around them rose a wave of doubt and scoffing. After all, Zhang Jun's earlier "empty‑handed martial arts" had left a deep impression, and now he was spouting wild claims, so naturally no one had high hopes for him. Lin Xue frowned slightly, but her gaze toward Zhang Jun carried a faint, hardly noticeable trust.

Qin Xiaotian glanced at Zhang Jun, then at Old Hu, pondered for a moment, and said: "Old Hu, what do you think?"

Old Hu gave Zhang Jun a deep look; the young man's eyes were clear, his demeanor calm, not like someone who only talks big. He nodded: "Very well, the medical path is boundless—let the capable lead. Since you're confident, young friend, why not give it a try?"

With Old Hu's approval, nobody else felt comfortable objecting further.

Zhang Jun stepped up to the middle‑aged patient, didn't rush to act, merely extended two fingers to lightly feel the man's wrist pulse, closed his eyes and focused. After a moment, he opened his eyes and examined the patient's complexion and tongue coating.

Then he pulled a small cloth bundle from his bosom, opened it, and inside were only a few uneven silver needles—far less impressive than Lin Feng's neat, shining row.

He took out the shortest, finest needle, his motion appearing casual, even a bit slow, and lightly inserted it near the Baihui point on the patient's crown. Lacking Lin Feng's flashy technique, it was just a simple prick and twist.

Immediately after, he inserted two more needles, one into the Fengchi point and the other into the Taiyang point. In total, he used just three needles.

The whole procedure was plain and unremarkable, even somewhat… crude?

Compared to Lin Feng's earlier dazzling display that left eyes spinning, Zhang Jun's three needles were nothing more than child's play.

Lin Feng's mouth curled into a cold smile as he waited to see Zhang Jun make a fool of himself.

However, the instant the third needle went in, a sudden change occurred!

The middle‑aged patient, whose brows had only just relaxed a little, suddenly exhaled a long, relieved breath as if shedding a thousand‑pound burden. His formerly sallow complexion, visible to the naked eye, flushed with a hint of healthy red. He then slowly opened his eyes; the earlier cloudiness and pain were gone, replaced by clarity and delight.

"Huh? My head… doesn't hurt at all? Not even a bit!" the middle‑aged man exclaimed in disbelief, touching his head and even moving his neck, his face brimming with the wild joy of having survived a calamity: "The ailment that's plagued me for over a decade… actually… actually it's just… this good?"

The entire hall fell silent, not even a sparrow's chirp.

Everyone stared, mouths agape, at this scene; the hall that had been noisy moments before was now so quiet you could hear a needle drop.

"Is… is that all it took? Just three needles?"

Old Hu was the first to react; he strode a few steps to the patient, eagerly placed his fingers on the pulse, closed his eyes and examined carefully. The more he checked, the more his expression shifted from disbelief to utter shock, then to deep admiration tinged with a hint of shame.

"Qi and blood flow freely, the chronic ailment is gone… this… this is practically divine technique!" Old Hu flung his eyes wide, his gaze toward Zhang Jun blazing with heat and excitement, leaving no trace of his earlier scrutiny and reserve: "Marvelous! Marvelous! In my lifelong practice of medicine I've seen many extraordinary people, but such a simple yet effective method that strikes straight at the root of the disease—I've never encountered its like! Young friend—no, Divine Doctor Zhang! I… I am in awe! I bow my body and soul in reverence!"

This elder, who enjoys considerable prestige in the capital's medical circles, now openly expressed his astonishment and conviction toward a young man, even bestowing the title of "Divine Doctor." This complete 180‑degree turnabout packs a greater impact than the patient's instantaneous recovery just moments before.