Chapter 88: Divine Doctor Returns to the Jianghu

No wonder it hurts like this, and no wonder the big hospital couldn't find anything wrong.

This isn't an organic disease; it's a qi and blood issue.

"Go to the nearby pharmacy," Zhang Jun lifted his head, looking at the old lady's son with a worried face, "Buy some dried ginger, mugwort, Sichuan pepper, and also get the cheapest coarse salt."

The son stared for a moment, full of doubt: "Just… just these?"

"Just go when I tell you to, quit the nonsense." Zhang Jun retorted impatiently.

The old lady's son and daughter-in-law exchanged a glance, seeing her painful expression and really having no other option, they gritted their teeth and hurried out.

Soon, the medicinal ingredients were bought back.

Zhang Jun found a broken bowl, crushed all the medicinal ingredients, then mixed in coarse salt, forced out a bit of heat with his fingertips, and stirred evenly.

Roll up the old lady's pant legs and sleeves.

Although the family members had doubts in their hearts, they still did as told.

Zhang Jun carefully applied the warm medicinal paste to the old lady's knees, elbows, and several joints where the pain was worst and felt the coldest to the touch.

After doing that, he took a deep breath and placed his warm palm on a certain acupoint on the old lady's icy lower back.

He slowly guided the scorching heat within his body, letting it seep bit by bit into the old lady's body.

Beads of fine sweat appeared on Zhang Jun's forehead, his teeth clenched.

He must control the force with extreme precision, using enough heat to dispel the cold and dampness, but not be overbearing, lest he harm the old lady's already frail body.

Time passed second by second; in the cramped shop, only the old lady's repressed moans and Zhang Jun's slightly heavy breathing could be heard.

The old lady's son and daughter-in-law stood nervously to the side, not daring to breathe.

After about half an hour, Zhang Jun abruptly withdrew his hand, his face somewhat pale, his body swaying a bit.

The old lady's face, originally twisted from severe pain, now relaxed considerably, her tightly furrowed brows easing.

She tried moving her stiff fingers, then let out a disbelieving exclamation: "Ah? It seems… it doesn't hurt as piercingly as before…"

Although it still hurt, that deep, bone‑aching, despair‑inducing pain had indeed lessened considerably.

Her son and daughter‑in‑law hurried over, both surprised and delighted: "Mom! Do you feel better?"

The old lady nodded firmly, even her eyes welled up with tears.

The old lady, whom all the big hospitals had given a death sentence, actually managed to lean on a cane and shakily walk two steps on her own!

The old lady's family practically treated Zhang Jun as an immortal, telling everyone how skilled the young doctor at Spring Return Hall was, curing all those mysterious illnesses that even specialists couldn't fix.

Word spread: one told ten, ten told a hundred.

The once deserted Spring Return Hall suddenly became bustling with traffic.

Every morning at dawn, a long line formed at the door, packed with all kinds of worried patients; the neighbors' looks at Zhang Jun also completely changed, from initial suspicion and wariness to reverence and a hint of fawning.

Divine Doctor Zhang!

Doctor Zhang!

Zhang Jun turned away no one, relying on that strange vigor and the odd ideas constantly popping into his head, and he really did cure quite a few people.

Of course, there were times he was helpless, but he never made empty promises, speaking plainly.

The clinic gradually gained some popularity.

Lin Xue didn't know when, but she had silently appeared in the back hall of the clinic.

She still spoke very little, most of the time sitting quietly in meditation, occasionally helping to sort the medicinal herbs, or using a method Zhang Jun couldn't understand to deal with the 'trouble' left by troublemakers who came to cause problems, such as sudden inspections by the industry and commerce tax authorities.

Zhang Jun didn't ask, and she didn't say.

Between the two of them there was an unspoken understanding.

Lin Xue watched Zhang Jun lower his head to see patients, watched the heat flow from his fingertips that felt both familiar and strange to her, watched those worried people come in and leave thanking him profusely; the frozen knot in her heart, unknown how long it had been there, seemed to loosen a little.

People fear fame, pigs fear getting fat.

Spring Return Hall's business improved, and soon it caught the eye of several nearby old pharmacies and clinics.

That afternoon, just after seeing off a patient, outside suddenly erupted in noise, wailing and lamenting.

Seven or eight ruffians escorted two 'patients' and rushed in.

One clutched his stomach and rolled on the ground, howling.

Another frothed at the mouth, his whole body twitching, looking like he had epilepsy.

The leader, yellow‑haired, pointed at Zhang Jun and cursed: "It's you! After taking your medicine, my brother ended up like this! Pay up! Otherwise I'll smash your shabby shop!"

A typical case of looking for trouble.

Onlookers from the neighborhood gathered, pointing and commenting.

Zhang Jun stood behind the counter, expressionless, watching this farce.

The heat within him circulated; he could clearly sense the surrounding clamor, pointing, and the insubstantial aura of those troublemakers.

The kid rolling on the ground had very steady qi and blood in his belly, nothing wrong—just his muscles tensed tight, and he was putting on a convincing act.

The one frothing at the mouth also had fine qi; the trace of soap foam at the corner of his mouth couldn't escape his notice.

He leisurely walked out, ignoring the yellow‑haired man's shouts.

He went straight to the person rolling on the ground and squatted down.

That person howled even more miserably.

Zhang Jun extended two fingers, swift as a dao's shadow, and lightly pressed on an inconspicuous acupoint on that person's waist eye.

Ugh—!

The man let out a miserable cry, his rolling motion stopped abruptly, his whole body stiffened like a rod, the painful expression on his face became genuine, and cold sweat poured down.

It was a sour, numb, bloated feeling, piercing to the heart, a hundred times worse than the fake stomach pain he had been feigning.

"Not a bad performance," Zhang Jun withdrew his hand, his voice not loud but clearly audible throughout the clinic, "Too bad the qi gate wasn't closed tight."

The onlooking neighbors murmured, their gazes toward the man changing.

Zhang Jun turned again toward the one who was foaming at the mouth.

That guy saw his companion give himself away, panic flashed in his eyes, and he jerked even harder.

Zhang Jun didn't touch him, just stared at him for a few seconds, then raised his hand and pointed at his tightly clenched fist.

"The soap smell is strong; next time switch brands, it won't mix scents. Also, if you were really having a fit, your fingers wouldn't be dug in that deep."

The person who was foaming at the mouth paused in his action, instinctively loosened his fist, and revealed a small, damp chunk of soap still laced with foam inside.

"Whoosh——"

The crowd fully understood.

"Charlatan! Faking it!"

"I said Doctor Zhang is skilled; how could he possibly harm people?"

"These damned bastards are trying to extort money!"

The leader, Huang Mao, his face alternating between green and white, saw the situation was wrong, stuck out his neck and shouted: "You… you're full of shit! We're like this because we took your medicine! Don't believe him!"