Early in the morning, the rhythmic sound of footsteps echoed through the Jiang family’s villa estate as Jiang Feng jogged steadily along a cobblestone path. His running style differed from most—slow-paced but with each step covering nearly a meter. His legs bent like a bow, taut like a string, exuding tension and explosive power with every motion.
His breathing was unique too, not through his nose but his mouth, lips slightly parted in a small arc. Each inhale and exhale caused his chest to rise and fall silently, his breath flowing like a dragon.
After breaking through the second level of Body Refinement, ordinary exercise no longer challenged his stamina. Only this near-self-punishing method could quicken his blood circulation.
Feeling his body heat up, Jiang Feng chose a quiet grove nearby, spread his legs slightly, sank into a horse stance, and began practicing punches. Lean and not overtly muscular, he didn’t seem like a power-type man at first glance. Yet his fists were fierce, each swing causing his arm muscles and joints to emit faint cracking sounds.
As his punches quickened, the sounds grew dense, like firecrackers. His aura reached perfect harmony, his breathing hastening but remaining steady and prolonged.
Drenched in sweat, Jiang Feng stopped and slowly returned to his residence, only to find Zhao Wuxia waiting.
Seeing him enter, Zhao Wuxia froze, noticing his sweat-soaked clothes clinging tightly to his toned physique, outlining his athletic curves. Clearly, he’d just finished his morning workout, which surprised her. Knowing Jiang Feng’s habit of sleeping in, she hadn’t expected him up so early.
She quickly stepped forward. “Young Master, someone’s looking for you outside.”
“Who?” Jiang Feng asked.
“Sister Hua’s secretary,” Zhao Wuxia replied.
Last time, when Sister Hua and Chen Siran accompanied Jiang Feng to the hospital, Zhao Wuxia had been curious about their relationship. Given Jiang Feng’s character, she knew Sister Hua and Chen Siran wouldn’t typically favor him. That mystery lingered, and now Sister Hua’s secretary was here again, making her think further.
Jiang Feng, however, wasn’t surprised. Sister Hua’s condition must have worsened severely. Ma Lianhao had mentioned she’d visited him at the hospital, but this time, she likely couldn’t even leave her bed.
“Let her in. I’ll shower first,” Jiang Feng said after a moment.
Zhao Wuxia nodded and left to fetch the visitor.
Fresh from his shower, Jiang Feng found Ding Lin waiting anxiously in the living room. She stood hurriedly upon seeing him.
“Young Master Jiang, please help President Hua,” Ding Lin pleaded urgently.
Jiang Feng sighed. If Sister Hua had trusted him and taken the medicine he’d prescribed, her hidden ailment would’ve been mostly resolved. Old misconceptions could be deadly.
Zhao Wuxia, puzzled by Ding Lin’s words, glanced at Jiang Feng.
After a pause, he asked, “How’s Sister Hua now?”
“It’s critical. The doctor says her life’s in danger. Please, Young Master Jiang, you must help,” Ding Lin choked out.
Zhao Wuxia pieced it together—Sister Hua was ill, and they sought Jiang Feng’s help. She recalled Sister Hua’s pale complexion last time, unnatural and sickly. But why turn to Jiang Feng instead of a doctor? Could he actually heal? Her confusion deepened.
Jiang Feng ignored Zhao Wuxia’s thoughts, frowning. He hesitated—not because he was unwilling, but because Sister Hua’s condition had likely reached a terminal stage. At the Foundation Establishment stage, he’d face fewer issues, but now, he could only stabilize her temporarily. His principle was to avoid uncertain endeavors, making this dilemma tough.
Seeing his hesitation, Ding Lin, assuming he held a grudge from last time, nearly knelt, tears streaming down her face.
Helpless, Jiang Feng relented. “Alright, I’ll go check on her.”
Ding Lin thanked him profusely, leading him out without delay.
Zhao Wuxia stood stunned—Jiang Feng could indeed heal.
Half an hour later, Jiang Feng arrived at the Huatian Club and saw Sister Hua. Had he not met her before, he’d doubt his eyes. Gone was her former allure; her face was ashen, and she lay collapsed on the bed. In just two days, her body’s internal depletion had caused drastic weight loss, her once-beautiful eyes swollen, her appearance almost grotesque.
Upon seeing Jiang Feng, Sister Hua struggled to sit up but couldn’t. He gently stopped her. Her large eyes met his, tears falling from their corners.
Jiang Feng, wary of women’s tears, softly reassured, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
Sister Hua trembled, gazing at him as if entranced. After a moment, she closed her eyes, long lashes fluttering—whether from fear or relief, he couldn’t tell.
He instructed Ding Lin to lay Sister Hua flat for an examination. As expected, her body’s internal depletion had pushed her to the brink. Without prompt treatment, she wouldn’t survive a week. His expression darkened, cursing silently. If he’d insisted last time, she might not be this ill.
Ding Lin, fearing the worst, stayed silent to avoid crushing Sister Hua’s will to live, signaling Jiang Feng with her eyes.
He sighed.
“Turn the AC to its highest setting. Prepare a large tub of boiling-hot water, silver needles, and two wide towels. I’ll treat her now.”
Unsure of his plan but relieved he hadn’t given up, Ding Lin rushed to prepare.
Ten minutes later, everything was ready. Jiang Feng asked Ding Lin to leave, lock the door, and ensure no interruptions. Once alone, he approached the bed, lifted Sister Hua, and whispered, “I’m starting the treatment. It might be uncomfortable. Tell me if it’s too much.”
Sister Hua blinked, managing a faint sound.
He carried her to the tub, holding her above the steaming, freshly boiled water. The heat enveloped her, and she let out a soft whimper, a trace of color returning to her pale face. Under the combined effect of the AC and steam, her cold, soft body began to sweat. Her thin silk pajamas, soaked through, clung to her skin.
Jiang Feng felt her slick skin against his palm, stirring his senses briefly before he refocused. He’d asked Ding Lin to lock the door because, at his early Body Refinement stage, his inner energy was unstable. An interruption could disrupt the treatment, endangering both Sister Hua and himself.
Yet he’d underestimated his own resolve. While he’d blocked external distractions, Sister Hua’s innate charm—her wet, delicate form in his arms—tested even a saint’s restraint. Thankfully, his discipline held. Though momentarily shaken, he steadied himself, holding her with one arm while the other swiftly tapped her major acupoints.
His rapid, varied taps produced soft sounds, oddly intimate in the enclosed space. Sister Hua’s breathing grew heavier, matching his rhythm. The sensation, like thousands of ants crawling over her, was both ticklish and unbearable. Her body softened, nearly melting. Never having experienced this, she felt both shy and overwhelmed, unable to suppress soft, involuntary moans.
Her condition stemmed from severe internal organ depletion, requiring this method to induce sweating and clear her meridians. It was a crude, temporary fix, far from a cure, but it could prevent relapse for two years. As her body responded, Jiang Feng knew the critical moment had arrived. Ignoring her alluring m0ans, he focused intently, quickening his taps.
After covering all her acupoints, he noticed the water’s steam cooling.
Without pause, he grabbed the silver needles, inserting them one by one into her body—thirty-six in total.
Breathing a small sigh of relief, he tested the water’s temperature, deeming it bearable. He removed her towel and carefully lowered her into the tub…
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