Chapter Seven: Doing Good Is Accumulating Virtue (Part One)

Accompanied by a gentle breeze and the cityscape flowing past his eyes like scenes from a movie, Liu Fan arrived at Yuhang South City Plaza after twenty minutes.

“Young man, we're here—that's Chunhua Hall,” the middle-aged uncle stopped the car and pointed to the grand entrance beneath a tall building ahead. Above the doorway, three splendid golden characters shone brightly in the sunlight: Chunhua Hall.

“Impressive! Truly worthy of a century-old brand. Thank you, sir—here’s your fare,” Liu Fan praised the magnificent pharmacy as he handed over the payment.

Just as Liu Fan turned toward the pharmacy, a loud bang sounded, followed by the crash of shattered glass.

“What’s going on?” Liu Fan muttered in confusion.

“What else could it be? Look at the crowd rushing over—must be something worth watching again,” the uncle explained. The people here, as always, loved a spectacle.

“Uncle, so you know what happened?” Liu Fan grew curious.

“It’s no secret. This place is near the national highway, so ‘second-generation officials’ and ‘second-generation tycoons’ often race their cars here. Accidents happen every few days. Heard people died before, but they just paid some money and walked away. Ordinary folks can’t compete with those people. The old saying goes, ‘Commoners don’t fight the rich, and the rich don’t challenge the officials.’ What can the masses do?” The uncle’s tone was tinged with righteous indignation.

“So no one manages it?” Liu Fan’s brow furrowed. He focused on the scene fifty meters ahead: a silver BMW X7 had crashed into a black Audi A6, flipping it over. Inside the Audi, a young woman and a little girl were unconscious, their fate uncertain. The BMW’s front was wrecked, but the young man inside seemed unharmed.

Wailing sirens pierced the air fifteen minutes later. Traffic police arrived, quickly cordoning off the area with yellow tape and attempting to disperse the crowd. Rescue teams worked to pull the injured from the vehicles.

“Let go—do you know who my father is? My dad is Tian Jianhao, Deputy Mayor on the Standing Committee. Who dares touch me? Watch out, or I’ll have you stripped of your uniform!” A young man in a white suit, reeking of alcohol, was escorted from his car by several officers. Clearly drunk, he was unscathed and met the police with arrogant bravado, even calling for backup to settle matters. Hearing his words, the officers hesitated, aware of his powerful background.

Meanwhile, other officers tried to rescue the trapped woman. Suddenly, a voice rang out: “Stop—do not move the woman, or you’ll endanger her life!” The unexpected warning threw the rescuers into confusion. The speaker, of course, was Liu Fan. In his view, crossing paths with them was fate; cultivators valued such connections, and his three masters had urged him to do good deeds and build virtue, so he stepped forward to prevent reckless rescue efforts.

“Who are you? This is a matter of life and death—why should I trust your word?” A stern middle-aged man, likely the police leader, rebuked Liu Fan.

This was Chen Guoxiong, captain of the city traffic police. Over fifty, he shouldn’t have been handling routine accidents, but his upright, inflexible nature had offended many superiors, leading to his transfer from the criminal division to the traffic squad.

“I’m a doctor. The woman’s left rib is broken and may have punctured her lung—she must not be moved. If you proceed, she won’t survive until the ambulance arrives.” Knowing the officers meant well but faced a grave situation, Liu Fan shouted urgently, striding to the woman’s car without hesitation.

The officers looked to Chen Guoxiong for guidance. “Captain, what do we do?”

“Do as the young doctor says. I’ll take responsibility if anything goes wrong,” Chen decided after a brief moment.

Liu Fan wasted no time. He activated his spiritual vision to examine the woman's injuries, confirming his earlier diagnosis. He set down his backpack and took out a set of ancient needles, actions designed to avoid suspicion—he had actually used his spiritual senses to retrieve them from the Hetu Luoshu space. If he conjured items from thin air, he’d be deemed a monster.

He opened the needle kit, withdrew two needles forged from immortal wood, and swiftly inserted them into the woman’s hand at the Shaoshang and Zhongchong points, imbuing her Lung and Pericardium meridians with wood spirit energy. This vital energy could restore bodily functions, powerful enough to heal even cultivators, let alone ordinary people. Liu Fan then gently pulled the steering wheel from the woman's trapped leg, cradled her in his arms, and laid her on the ground. He performed his bone-setting technique: pressing, lifting, kneading, connecting, and smoothing the injured rib in fluid, dazzling motions.

After realigning the rib, he took another wooden needle and inserted it into her chest at the Zhongfu point, using wood spirit energy to repair her damaged lung. The woman was saved, though still unconscious. Remembering the little girl, Liu Fan told a nearby officer, “She’s fine now—just needs half a month’s rest to recover. Do not remove the needles, or I won’t be responsible for the consequences.” Without waiting for a reply, he moved to the girl. Witnessing Liu Fan’s miraculous methods, the officer nodded vigorously.

Liu Fan examined the girl with spiritual vision. She had no internal injuries, but her brain had suffered trauma and internal bleeding. If not promptly cleared, the resulting blood clot would compress the central nervous system—paralysis at best, vegetative state or death at worst. Without delay, Liu Fan inserted four wooden needles into the Sishencong points atop her head, channeling wood spirit energy to heal the cranial injury. He gently lifted the girl.

“Quick—find a flat table! She needs to be laid flat with her head elevated to drain the blood,” Liu Fan commanded.

In two minutes, a table was found. Liu Fan laid the girl down and produced a long golden needle, forged from Taiyi refined gold—ideal for cranial bloodletting. He gently inserted the needle into the Baihui point atop her head, a third of its length sinking in. He then positioned her head and neck off the table’s edge, face up and hanging down. Within minutes, dark blood oozed along the needle and dripped to the ground. The crowd gasped, and the silence was eerie.

“Good, she’ll recover in ten days or so with rest,” Liu Fan said, retrieving the needles from the girl and moving to the woman’s side. After confirming her recovery, he removed the needles as well.

Just then, the urgent siren of the ‘120’ ambulance sounded. The hospital’s emergency team was notoriously slow—arriving over half an hour after the accident. Relying on them to save lives was futile.

“Quick, where are the patients?” Sweating profusely, a chubby, big-eared middle-aged man in a white coat led the medical team through the crowd.

“Who authorized you to move the patients? Do you realize you could worsen their condition? Don’t the police know any basic medical principles?” The portly doctor, Wang Wenkui, head physician at the City People’s Hospital, berated the traffic officers, blaming them for moving the victims without his consent.

In truth, Wang Wenkui was less righteous than he appeared; his priority was shirking responsibility. If the patients died during his care, it would damage his reputation, especially with the hospital director election imminent. No leader would risk their own reputation.

“It was me! Do you have a problem?” Liu Fan, standing nearby, recognized Wang Wenkui’s character at a glance—his kidney yang was depleted, a sign of many unethical deeds. Hearing Wang’s arrogant remarks, Liu Fan retorted sharply.

“Director Wang, it was this young man who treated the mother and daughter with acupuncture,” a traffic officer explained quietly. The officer clearly knew the doctor’s background—a staunch opponent of traditional medicine, eager to curry favor.

“Nonsense!” Wang Wenkui’s arrogance intensified as he sized up the plainly dressed youth. “What medical skills could you possibly have? Did you even have a license? If they die, will you take responsibility?”

“Ambition is not measured by age, while the unambitious waste a hundred years. On what grounds do you deny my medical skill?” Liu Fan’s confidence soared. He retorted, injecting his words with a trace of immortal energy, leaving Wang’s mind reeling.

“Well said,” declared an elderly man in a gray-white Tang suit, emerging from the crowd. His youthful face and white hair radiated vitality.

“Ah! That’s Elder Li, the famed doctor!”

“It’s really Elder Li! I heard he hasn’t been seeing patients at Chunhua Hall for a long time.”

“Does this mean Elder Li will return? I must hurry and bring my family to see him—such a rare chance!”

“Yes, yes!”

…

Elder Li Zhengtang’s presence stirred the crowd into excited discussion. His aura was undeniable—worthy indeed of being a towering figure in Chinese medicine.