Chapter 153: Zhang Wei’s extortion: Wang Liang coughed blood! (1)
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Chapter 153 Zhang Wei's extortion: Wang Liang coughed blood! (1)
"Can you still heal him?" Wang Zheng's voice quivered, a palpable tremor of hope and concern resonating through the room.
His eyes, etched with wrinkles from years of experience, fixated on Zhang Wei, who stood like a sentinel, meticulously observing Wang Leng's fragile and emaciated form, a life teetering on the edge, lying inert on the bed.
=====
Status:-
Name: Wang Zheng
Age: 82
Body Rank: Tempered Body
Cultivation Level: None
Bloodline: None
Spirit beast: None
Cultivation talent: Mediocre Talent
Spiritual root rank: Inferior spiritual root
=====
Zhang Wei's eyebrows arched upward in a blend of surprise and curiosity, a spark of intrigue igniting in his gaze. The room's atmosphere seemed charged with a new energy as Tang Dexin's voice cut through the tension, "Did you stumble upon something, Zhang Wei?"
In a symphony of practiced motion, Zhang Wei's fingers danced with purpose, each precise movement culminating in the revelation of eight polished silver needles. They gleamed in the ambient light, a promise of ancient knowledge wielded with modern finesse.
In the Wang Liang's past, a ghostly memory emerged—an injury inflicted by a formidable Cultivator, an current of qi imprisoned within the meridian, an unresolved issue, now repsonsible for his current state.
A silent understanding passed between Zhang Wei and the unconscious Wang Liang; within those blocked pathways lay the key to restoration.
Tang Dexin's eyes widened, a symphony of disbelief and wonder playing across his features. "Silver needles? Are you a practitioner of the revered traditional medicine?"
His voice echoed with suprise, grappling with the realization that someone as youthful as Zhang Wei not only walked the same path but also possessed the strength to see past Wang Liang's injury!
A universe of possibilities unfolded before Tang Dexin, a series of astonishments, and this was just the beginning of it.
Beneath Wang Zheng's unwavering scrutiny, Zhang Wei embarked on his healing ritual with a surgeon's precision, guiding the gleaming silver needles through the air like threads of destiny woven into the fabric of life.
Each delicate motion was a testament to his mastery, the room's aura shifting, as if nature itself held its breath, gripped by the unfolding spectacle.
_______
As Zhang Wei's skilled hands maneuvered the delicate silver needles, an aura of intense concentration embraced the room, like a cocoon of focused energy.
Wang Leng lay motionless, his fragile breaths whispering the promise of life. Wang Zheng's eyes remained riveted on Zhang Wei, a tangle of hope and anxiety playing out in the depths of his gaze.
Tang Dexin, arms folded in skepticism, initially raised an eyebrow in doubt, his words a challenge to the unfolding scene. "Silver needles, huh? You expect me to believe these can wield any influence now?" he remarked, his skepticism palpable in the tone of his voice.
But Zhang Wei, resolute and undeterred, continued his intricate dance, a maestro of life's unseen currents.
The needles found their places with the meticulousness of an artist, each placement aligned with the meridians that held the elusive trapped qi.
As the last needle found its home, he gestured for a sacred moment of silence, as if he and the room were in communion with forces beyond ordinary perception.
Time hung suspended, the room a canvas upon which hope and anticipation were painted. Every breath was held, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as the observers waited for the tiniest whisper of change.
Then, as if whispered by fate itself, Wang Leng's fingers twitched, a delicate tremor that painted a portrait of revival.
His eyelids fluttered like the first wings of a butterfly breaking free, and a sigh, as gentle as a breeze, escaped his lips. In that fleeting moment, Wang Zheng's heart surged, as if a dormant ember had ignited into a blazing flame.
______
Tang Dexin, the once-skeptical onlooker, leaned forward, his facade of doubt unraveling to reveal genuine surprise. "I must admit, I didn't expect... progress," he muttered, his gaze narrowing as he remained transfixed by Wang Leng's subtle responses. The skepticism he wore like armor now showed cracks, as the unfolding scene commanded his respect.
The needles worked their ancient magic, weaving a tale of revitalization within Wang Leng's being.
The stagnant qi, long held captive, was coaxed to dance, a river rediscovering its forgotten course after a long and arduous obstruction.
Wang Leng's breaths deepened, the pallor of his cheeks receded, and his frail form seemed to drink from the cup of newfound strength.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Wang Zheng's emotions surged, and he gently grasped Zhang Wei's hands, each touch a testament to the profound impact of this moment.
"Young man, you've accomplished what no one else could. You've given my father a lifeline, a chance to recover," he said, his voice quivering with the weight of the moment.
Tang Dexin, now humbled by the unfolding truth, could no longer uphold his skepticism.
It had been replaced by a newfound awe, a genuine respect for the uncharted territories of Zhang Wei's technique. "Your approach... it's unlike anything I've witnessed before. How did you come by such mastery?" he inquired, his eyes fixed on Zhang Wei, a renewed admiration shining in their depths.
Zhang Wei's response carried a blend of humility and quiet confidence, "I come from a lineage of healers, and I've dedicated my life to refining these skills," he explained, the gentle timbre of his voice resonating within the room, however inwadly Zhang Wei knew he wasn't completely lying, after inheritng Li Shen's legacy, he indeed can make such bold claims.
Tang Dexin's expression was a mix of astonishment and suspicion. "Why does it appear to be the legendary Eight Heaven Defying Needle technique?" he asked with a skeptical tone, his eyes locked onto Zhang Wei for a confirming response.
Zhang Wei nodded nonchalantly, as if the comparison didn't hold much significance. He had deliberately used only the first stage of the Eight Heaven Defying Needle technique; anything more would drain his spirit to an unsustainable level.
However, what happened next was beyond anyone's expectations.
Tang Dexin, seemingly overwhelmed by an invisible force, fell to his knees with a resounding *thud*.
Zhang Wei's surprise was evident; he turned to see Tang Dexin in this humbling posture, and his face betrayed a fleeting twitch of bewilderment.
Even Wang Zheng, not one to be easily surprised, couldn't fathom the reason behind Tang Dexin's action. "Doctor Tang, what are you doing!?" he exclaimed, hurrying to help the older man up.
But Tang Dexin remained steadfast, maintaining his position while earnestly pleading, "Master! Please accept this humble man as your disciple!"
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Chapter 153 Zhang Wei's extortion: Wang Liang coughed blood! (1)
"Can you still heal him?" Wang Zheng's voice quivered, a palpable tremor of hope and concern resonating through the room.
His eyes, etched with wrinkles from years of experience, fixated on Zhang Wei, who stood like a sentinel, meticulously observing Wang Leng's fragile and emaciated form, a life teetering on the edge, lying inert on the bed.
=====
Status:-
Name: Wang Zheng
Age: 82
Body Rank: Tempered Body
Cultivation Level: None
Bloodline: None
Spirit beast: None
Cultivation talent: Mediocre Talent
Spiritual root rank: Inferior spiritual root
=====
Zhang Wei's eyebrows arched upward in a blend of surprise and curiosity, a spark of intrigue igniting in his gaze. The room's atmosphere seemed charged with a new energy as Tang Dexin's voice cut through the tension, "Did you stumble upon something, Zhang Wei?"
In a symphony of practiced motion, Zhang Wei's fingers danced with purpose, each precise movement culminating in the revelation of eight polished silver needles. They gleamed in the ambient light, a promise of ancient knowledge wielded with modern finesse.
In the Wang Liang's past, a ghostly memory emerged—an injury inflicted by a formidable Cultivator, an current of qi imprisoned within the meridian, an unresolved issue, now repsonsible for his current state.
A silent understanding passed between Zhang Wei and the unconscious Wang Liang; within those blocked pathways lay the key to restoration.
Tang Dexin's eyes widened, a symphony of disbelief and wonder playing across his features. "Silver needles? Are you a practitioner of the revered traditional medicine?"
His voice echoed with suprise, grappling with the realization that someone as youthful as Zhang Wei not only walked the same path but also possessed the strength to see past Wang Liang's injury!
A universe of possibilities unfolded before Tang Dexin, a series of astonishments, and this was just the beginning of it.
Beneath Wang Zheng's unwavering scrutiny, Zhang Wei embarked on his healing ritual with a surgeon's precision, guiding the gleaming silver needles through the air like threads of destiny woven into the fabric of life.
Each delicate motion was a testament to his mastery, the room's aura shifting, as if nature itself held its breath, gripped by the unfolding spectacle.
_______
As Zhang Wei's skilled hands maneuvered the delicate silver needles, an aura of intense concentration embraced the room, like a cocoon of focused energy.
Wang Leng lay motionless, his fragile breaths whispering the promise of life. Wang Zheng's eyes remained riveted on Zhang Wei, a tangle of hope and anxiety playing out in the depths of his gaze.
Tang Dexin, arms folded in skepticism, initially raised an eyebrow in doubt, his words a challenge to the unfolding scene. "Silver needles, huh? You expect me to believe these can wield any influence now?" he remarked, his skepticism palpable in the tone of his voice.
But Zhang Wei, resolute and undeterred, continued his intricate dance, a maestro of life's unseen currents.
The needles found their places with the meticulousness of an artist, each placement aligned with the meridians that held the elusive trapped qi.
As the last needle found its home, he gestured for a sacred moment of silence, as if he and the room were in communion with forces beyond ordinary perception.
Time hung suspended, the room a canvas upon which hope and anticipation were painted. Every breath was held, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as the observers waited for the tiniest whisper of change.
Then, as if whispered by fate itself, Wang Leng's fingers twitched, a delicate tremor that painted a portrait of revival.
His eyelids fluttered like the first wings of a butterfly breaking free, and a sigh, as gentle as a breeze, escaped his lips. In that fleeting moment, Wang Zheng's heart surged, as if a dormant ember had ignited into a blazing flame.
______
Tang Dexin, the once-skeptical onlooker, leaned forward, his facade of doubt unraveling to reveal genuine surprise. "I must admit, I didn't expect... progress," he muttered, his gaze narrowing as he remained transfixed by Wang Leng's subtle responses. The skepticism he wore like armor now showed cracks, as the unfolding scene commanded his respect.
The needles worked their ancient magic, weaving a tale of revitalization within Wang Leng's being.
The stagnant qi, long held captive, was coaxed to dance, a river rediscovering its forgotten course after a long and arduous obstruction.
Wang Leng's breaths deepened, the pallor of his cheeks receded, and his frail form seemed to drink from the cup of newfound strength.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Wang Zheng's emotions surged, and he gently grasped Zhang Wei's hands, each touch a testament to the profound impact of this moment.
"Young man, you've accomplished what no one else could. You've given my father a lifeline, a chance to recover," he said, his voice quivering with the weight of the moment.
Tang Dexin, now humbled by the unfolding truth, could no longer uphold his skepticism.
It had been replaced by a newfound awe, a genuine respect for the uncharted territories of Zhang Wei's technique. "Your approach... it's unlike anything I've witnessed before. How did you come by such mastery?" he inquired, his eyes fixed on Zhang Wei, a renewed admiration shining in their depths.
Zhang Wei's response carried a blend of humility and quiet confidence, "I come from a lineage of healers, and I've dedicated my life to refining these skills," he explained, the gentle timbre of his voice resonating within the room, however inwadly Zhang Wei knew he wasn't completely lying, after inheritng Li Shen's legacy, he indeed can make such bold claims.
Tang Dexin's expression was a mix of astonishment and suspicion. "Why does it appear to be the legendary Eight Heaven Defying Needle technique?" he asked with a skeptical tone, his eyes locked onto Zhang Wei for a confirming response.
Zhang Wei nodded nonchalantly, as if the comparison didn't hold much significance. He had deliberately used only the first stage of the Eight Heaven Defying Needle technique; anything more would drain his spirit to an unsustainable level.
However, what happened next was beyond anyone's expectations.
Tang Dexin, seemingly overwhelmed by an invisible force, fell to his knees with a resounding *thud*.
Zhang Wei's surprise was evident; he turned to see Tang Dexin in this humbling posture, and his face betrayed a fleeting twitch of bewilderment.
Even Wang Zheng, not one to be easily surprised, couldn't fathom the reason behind Tang Dexin's action. "Doctor Tang, what are you doing!?" he exclaimed, hurrying to help the older man up.
But Tang Dexin remained steadfast, maintaining his position while earnestly pleading, "Master! Please accept this humble man as your disciple!"
Chapter 153 Zhang Wei's extortion: Wang Liang coughed blood! 1 "Can you still heal him?" Wang Zheng's voice quivered, a palpable tremor of hope and concern resonating through the room. His eyes, etched with wrinkles from years of experience, fixated on Zhang Wei, who stood like a sentinel, meticulously observing Wang Leng's fragile and emaciated form, a life teetering on the edge, lying inert on the bed. ===== Status:- Name: Wang Zheng Age: 82 Body Rank: Tempered Body Cultivation Level: None Bloodline: None Spirit beast: None Cultivation talent: Mediocre Talent Spiritual root rank: Inferior spiritual root ===== Zhang Wei's eyebrows arched upward in a blend of surprise and curiosity, a spark of intrigue igniting in his gaze. The room's atmosphere seemed charged with a new energy as Tang Dexin's voice cut through the tension, "Did you stumble upon something, Zhang Wei?" In a symphony of practiced motion, Zhang Wei's fingers danced with purpose, each precise movement culminating in the revelation of eight polished silver needles. They gleamed in the ambient light, a promise of ancient knowledge wielded with modern finesse. In the Wang Liang's past, a ghostly memory emergedan injury inflicted by a formidable Cultivator, an current of qi imprisoned within the meridian, an unresolved issue, now repsonsible for his current state. A silent understanding passed between Zhang Wei and the unconscious Wang Liang; within those blocked pathways lay the key to restoration. Tang Dexin's eyes widened, a symphony of disbelief and wonder playing across his features. "Silver needles? Are you a practitioner of the revered traditional medicine?" His voice echoed with suprise, grappling with the realization that someone as youthful as Zhang Wei not only walked the same path but also possessed the strength to see past Wang Liang's injury! A universe of possibilities unfolded before Tang Dexin, a series of astonishments, and this was just the beginning of it. Beneath Wang Zheng's unwavering scrutiny, Zhang Wei embarked on his healing ritual with a surgeon's precision, guiding the gleaming silver needles through the air like threads of destiny woven into the fabric of life. Each delicate motion was a testament to his mastery, the room's aura shifting, as if nature itself held its breath, gripped by the unfolding spectacle. _______ As Zhang Wei's skilled hands maneuvered the delicate silver needles, an aura of intense concentration embraced the room, like a cocoon of focused energy. Wang Leng lay motionless, his fragile breaths whispering the promise of life. Wang Zheng's eyes remained riveted on Zhang Wei, a tangle of hope and anxiety playing out in the depths of his gaze. Tang Dexin, arms folded in skepticism, initially raised an eyebrow in doubt, his words a challenge to the unfolding scene. "Silver needles, huh? You expect me to believe these can wield any influence now?" he remarked, his skepticism palpable in the tone of his voice. But Zhang Wei, resolute and undeterred, continued his intricate dance, a maestro of life's unseen currents. The needles found their places with the meticulousness of an artist, each placement aligned with the meridians that held the elusive trapped qi. As the last needle found its home, he gestured for a sacred moment of silence, as if he and the room were in communion with forces beyond ordinary perception. Time hung suspended, the room a canvas upon which hope and anticipation were painted. Every breath was held, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as the observers waited for the tiniest whisper of change. Then, as if whispered by fate itself, Wang Leng's fingers twitched, a delicate tremor that painted a portrait of revival. His eyelids fluttered like the first wings of a butterfly breaking free, and a sigh, as gentle as a breeze, escaped his lips. In that fleeting moment, Wang Zheng's heart surged, as if a dormant ember had ignited into a blazing flame. ______ Tang Dexin, the once-skeptical onlooker, leaned forward, his facade of doubt unraveling to reveal genuine surprise. "I must admit, I didn't expect... progress," he muttered, his gaze narrowing as he remained transfixed by Wang Leng's subtle responses. The skepticism he wore like armor now showed cracks, as the unfolding scene commanded his respect. The needles worked their ancient magic, weaving a tale of revitalization within Wang Leng's being. The stagnant qi, long held captive, was coaxed to dance, a river rediscovering its forgotten course after a long and arduous obstruction. Wang Leng's breaths deepened, the pallor of his cheeks receded, and his frail form seemed to drink from the cup of newfound strength. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Wang Zheng's emotions surged, and he gently grasped Zhang Wei's hands, each touch a testament to the profound impact of this moment. "Young man, you've accomplished what no one else could. You've given my father a lifeline, a chance to recover," he said, his voice quivering with the weight of the moment. Tang Dexin, now humbled by the unfolding truth, could no longer uphold his skepticism. It had been replaced by a newfound awe, a genuine respect for the uncharted territories of Zhang Wei's technique. "Your approach... it's unlike anything I've witnessed before. How did you come by such mastery?" he inquired, his eyes fixed on Zhang Wei, a renewed admiration shining in their depths. Zhang Wei's response carried a blend of humility and quiet confidence, "I come from a lineage of healers, and I've dedicated my life to refining these skills," he explained, the gentle timbre of his voice resonating within the room, however inwadly Zhang Wei knew he wasn't completely lying, after inheritng Li Shen's legacy, he indeed can make such bold claims. Tang Dexin's expression was a mix of astonishment and suspicion. "Why does it appear to be the legendary Eight Heaven Defying Needle technique?" he asked with a skeptical tone, his eyes locked onto Zhang Wei for a confirming response. Zhang Wei nodded nonchalantly, as if the comparison didn't hold much significance. He had deliberately used only the first stage of the Eight Heaven Defying Needle technique; anything more would drain his spirit to an unsustainable level. However, what happened next was beyond anyone's expectations. Tang Dexin, seemingly overwhelmed by an invisible force, fell to his knees with a resounding *thud*. Zhang Wei's surprise was evident; he turned to see Tang Dexin in this humbling posture, and his face betrayed a fleeting twitch of bewilderment. Even Wang Zheng, not one to be easily surprised, couldn't fathom the reason behind Tang Dexin's action. "Doctor Tang, what are you doing!?" he exclaimed, hurrying to help the older man up. But Tang Dexin remained steadfast, maintaining his position while earnestly pleading, "Master! Please accept this humble man as your disciple!"
