Chapter 89: A Promise Sealed with Words

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“These prepared rehmannia roots are also part of my treatment plan, so you must continue taking them!” Chen Anquan thought of an excellent solution. In order to prevent Zhao Xuan from demanding a refund, he could only incorporate the prepared rehmannia into his treatment regimen.

Prepared rehmannia nourishes the liver and kidneys, strengthens the tendons and bones, and its effect on treating liver and kidney deficiencies, kidney essence depletion, and limb weakness and numbness caused by nerve injuries far surpasses that of renowned tonics like ginseng.

“Young man, you’re truly arrogant! In the old days, I could have slapped a whole group of brats like you to death,” Zhao Hai said coldly, fixing his gaze on Chen Anquan.

Zhao Xuan stared intently at Chen Anquan, her expression serious. No matter what, as long as there was hope of curing her father’s illness, even if she had to go bankrupt, she would see him healed. “Doctor Chen, how confident are you? As long as you can cure my father, I’ll do anything you ask!”

Chen Anquan stroked his chin, shifting his gaze from Zhao Hai to Zhao Xuan. He glanced at the two ripe melons beneath her white sweater, thinking to himself, “Why not let her become mine?”

Forget it.

He dismissed the thought. Forced affection is never sweet, and besides, his desire was only physical—there was no need to coerce her.

“My request is simple: I only want your father to teach me his internal martial arts techniques.”

“Young man, you are truly presumptuous! Our internal skills are not something a useless brat like you can learn!”

Ours?

Chen Anquan caught the critical detail—Zhao Hai had said “ours.” Could there be others involved?

“Zhao Xuan, I’m ninety percent confident I can cure your father!” Chen Anquan looked at her with utmost seriousness.

“Ninety percent!” Zhao Xuan was overjoyed, her previously troubled face lighting up with delight. Ninety percent—wasn’t that almost a sure thing?

But then Chen Anquan’s next words filled her with worry again. “That’s under the condition that your father teaches me a portion of his internal techniques. I need to confirm that all of this is real.”

“This…” Zhao Xuan looked dumbfounded at Zhao Hai. As far as she was concerned, she was hearing for the first time that her father knew so-called internal techniques.

In her memory, her father had been a renowned martial artist in the province, skilled in many traditional forms, even in qigong.

But as for internal arts like those in cartoons, she had never even heard of them.

“Young man, don’t get ahead of yourself!” Zhao Hai looked at Chen Anquan with utter disdain. “Internal martial arts aren’t so easily taught! But, to show my sincerity, I’ll give you some guidance on a few Taiji sword moves.”

Does my Taiji sword need your guidance?

Chen Anquan almost laughed aloud.

He’d practiced Taiji sword for nearly two hundred hours, and had increased his proficiency further by allocating unused attribute points on his status panel—effectively equivalent to real practice.

Zhao Hai closed his eyes, disinclined to explain, “Listen here, boy. There are over twenty basic sword moves. Some so-called masters invent their own basics. But to my mind, that’s nonsense—there are only three real moves!”

“Three? Old man, have you lost your mind? How could there be only three moves?” Chen Anquan looked at Zhao Hai as if he were a fool.

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What a braggart, shameless to the core…

Zhao Hai spoke unhurriedly: “Swordsmanship has become needlessly complicated by those useless fellows. To me, there are only three moves: chop, hack, and thrust.”

“Chop, thrust, and hack?” This was the first time Chen Anquan had heard such an outrageous answer.

Anyone who’d studied swordsmanship knew the art also included point, snap, flick, carry, wipe, block, and many other moves.

Swordsmanship looked elegant, but it was the king of all weapons, and truly mastering it took decades.

“Young man, I’ve seen your sword practice videos. Your fundamentals are shaky, and you’re making random modifications. That’s an insult to our Taiji sword style!”

“This old guy actually noticed I altered the form?” Chen Anquan was astonished.

“That horizontal sweep of yours, your arm is too forceful and rigid. Don’t you know our Taiji sword is about using softness to overcome strength? While sweeping, gently rotate your wrist, and with a light push from your elbow, you achieve the effect of moving a thousand pounds with four ounces.”

Chen Anquan nodded as he listened. He’d realized the issue himself, but hadn’t yet found a better solution.

He turned and walked into the house.

“Doctor Chen?” Zhao Xuan called after him as he darted away, baffled by his behavior.

Soon, Chen Anquan returned, holding a peachwood sword.

Zhao Hai half-closed his eyes with disdain, as if he were a grandmaster regarding an unremarkable novice, clearly unimpressed.

But the moment Chen Anquan drew his peachwood sword, accompanied by a metallic ring, Zhao Hai’s eyes widened in sudden surprise.

He muttered under his breath, “This peachwood is seriously aged!”

“Old man, you’ve got good eyes!” Chen Anquan said smugly. By a stroke of luck, he’d found this old peach tree on the second day after a meteor shower on Ao Bei Mountain.

“It’s nothing special,” Zhao Hai said indifferently. “Boy, give it a try and see if I’m right.”

Chen Anquan gripped the peachwood sword and began to move.

His wrist rotated subtly, transmitting force through the entire arm, and as his elbow exerted pressure, a hidden strength gathered—a whirlpool beneath a placid lake, seemingly ordinary yet full of powerful undercurrents.

Swish!

Whoosh!

Crack!

Different tones sounded one after another. Even though Chen Anquan’s movements were deliberately slow, they still cut through the air with a sharp noise.

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The sight left Zhao Xuan utterly stunned.

The atmosphere—this was incredible!

It made her want to learn swordsmanship herself.

Previously, she’d refused to study her father’s martial arts for one main reason: she believed it was all just for show. Good for fitness or performance, but utterly useless in a real fight.

In peaceful times, what use was it to her?

Chen Anquan gradually stopped, holding up the peachwood sword, and his expression grew a shade more respectful.

This braggart of an old man actually had some real skill!

But that was still not enough to prove he truly knew internal martial arts.

Zhao Hai looked at Chen Anquan with pride, having noticed the insight his guidance had sparked. Now, even Chen Anquan’s gaze toward him had changed. “Boy, as long as you can cure my illness, I guarantee I’ll teach you the internal techniques!”

“Alright, it’s a deal!” Chen Anquan decided to take the gamble. So what if he used up a few blood-red demon flowers? He still had six left!

If he could learn internal techniques, it would all be worth it!

Chen Anquan began laying out his plan: “Old man, the main component of my treatment is the use of prepared rehmannia, combined with a course of acupuncture. You’ll need to come once a week, for four sessions in total.”

“Only four sessions to cure my father?” Zhao Xuan was clearly amazed at the efficiency, her face radiating ecstatic joy as she looked at Chen Anquan, so excited she nearly hugged him.

“Ahem!” Seeing Zhao Xuan’s excitement, Chen Anquan suddenly felt like a doctor again.

A doctor’s heart is as a parent’s—he was a healer at heart. Even if he called Zhao Hai an ‘old thing’ out loud, he genuinely hoped he would recover.

“Can we begin today?” Zhao Xuan was barely able to contain her eagerness, wishing they could start right away.

“Not today. I haven’t prepared acupuncture needles or medical equipment yet—I need to ask a friend at the town hospital to procure some. Can your father come in two days?”

“This…” Zhao Xuan’s excitement faded, but she knew Chen Anquan couldn’t conjure up medical tools from thin air, so she nodded. “Alright.”

Zhao Hai glared at Chen Anquan, as if he were a cabbage that had been stolen by a pig. “Hmph! Boy, if you don’t cure me, I’ll beat you to death!”

“Don’t worry. I’m ninety-nine percent sure. If it doesn’t work, you’ll just have to chalk it up to being that unlucky one percent.”

“Damn it! How could I possibly be that unlucky?” Zhao Hai grumbled, cursing under his breath.