A Divine Farmer

Chapter 293 - She Could Deduce the Acupuncture Technique

Wang Cheng understood the implications all too well. Treating just one person could leave him on the brink of collapse. It was easy to imagine the impossibility of caring for a multitude of infected individuals—it would be like trying to extinguish a cart on fire with a mere cup of water.

With a heavy sigh, he opened the door to a secluded room.

Zhang Xiaolong was about to step inside when Wang Cheng halted him.

“Is Dr. Wang Zhengyi in there?” Zhang Xiaolong inquired.

“Yes,” Wang Cheng replied, his expression betraying a flicker of pain. “He's likely one of the first to have been infected. That's why he secluded himself at home, ready to end his suffering if it became unbearable. He never anticipated the virus would spread so widely. Despite his efforts to manage the disease with various medications and the Acupuncture Technique, his condition has continued to deteriorate. I must concede that this virus is formidable; it's beyond the healing scope of the Wang family's Acupuncture Technique.”

“There's nothing surprising about that. The Acupuncture Technique can temporarily boost Yang energy, which has allowed Dr. Wang to hold on for this long. That in itself is quite impressive,” Zhang Xiaolong responded with a sigh of his own. “But acupuncture isn't a cure-all. Until we find the appropriate medication, all we can do is manage the symptoms. If we can gain overall control, it will buy us time to discover the right treatment. Otherwise, countless more could die before we find a cure.”

“My father is already in such a state, though. Even if he wished to pass on the Acupuncture Technique to you, I doubt he could even speak,” Wang Cheng said, glancing inside the room. “This morning, he lost consciousness. His last request before slipping away was for me to cremate him, to prevent the virus from infecting others.”

Zhang Xiaolong peered inside as well. Wang Zhengyi's face was marred with sores, and he appeared to be in a deep coma. Without relief, his condition would soon lead to organ failure, beyond any hope of recovery.

“Aren't you also skilled in the Acupuncture Technique? After all, you're the one who treated your friend Su Mei with it, right?” Zhang Xiaolong asked abruptly.

“You're referring to her? She came to see my father, but he had already contracted the Ebola Virus. No matter how much I tried to persuade her, she wouldn't leave. I was worried she'd catch the virus at our place, so I tried to boost her Yang energy to encourage her to leave. Unfortunately, she still got infected,” Wang Cheng expressed with regret. “My dad wanted me to study medicine, but I never liked it. I only learned the bare essentials under duress. If I had mastered it, maybe your friend would still be alive.”

“Discussing this now is pointless. Since you have some knowledge, if you're willing, please share what you know. I could at least learn from it,” said Zhang Xiaolong, his brow furrowed.

The Shennong Cauldron had provided many memories, yet none included information on the Ebola Virus, and the details on Acupuncture Technique were vague.

Zhang Xiaolong hadn't delved into these areas, so his medical skills were lacking. He mainly relied on the Hundred-grass Spring Coming Arts, but divine power isn't always the answer, especially with something as formidable as the Ebola Virus, which seemed to be resistant to such powers.

“Fine, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have bothered learning this much. There's no point in keeping it to myself. If you want to learn, I'll share everything with you.” Wang Cheng pondered for a moment before decisively retrieving a book from inside the house. “This contains teachings from my father. I haven't fully grasped it, so it's about a third of the Acupuncture Technique passed down in the Wang family. See if it's of any use to you or others.”

Zhang Xiaolong scanned the pages rapidly, absorbing the information like a sponge.

Wang Cheng, observing Zhang Xiaolong's quick perusal, assumed he was just getting a general idea of the contents.

But after a few minutes, Zhang Xiaolong closed the book and remarked, “This book doesn't contain a third of the Acupuncture Technique. It's probably less than a tenth.”

“What?” Wang Cheng was taken aback. Zhang Xiaolong had only glanced at the book briefly. How could he draw such a conclusion? “That can't be right. My father personally told me it was a third.”

Zhang Xiaolong nodded and clarified, “That's not what I meant. The Acupuncture Technique has been handed down from ancient times, and much has been lost along the way. Even Dr. Wang may not have received the entirety of it. So, when he speaks of one-third, he's referring to one-third of what he has learned, not the complete technique.”

“So, are you suggesting that my father only mastered thirty percent of the entire Acupuncture Technique?” Wang Cheng grew even more puzzled. “But how do you come by this knowledge?”

“I've done some quick theorizing. Although I can't figure out everything, I should be able to apply some of it effectively,” Zhang Xiaolong said with a grave expression. “Regrettably, I don't have the energy to try it out right now.”

Wang Cheng's skepticism only deepened. In the world of traditional Chinese medicine, lineage is crucial, and self-teaching is exceedingly difficult. It was hard to believe Zhang Xiaolong, who had merely skimmed through a book and now claimed he had supplemented the incomplete Acupuncture Technique.

If Zhang Xiaolong hadn't just saved his life, Wang Cheng might have dismissed him outright. Anyone making such claims could only be an overconfident braggart or a charlatan.

Oblivious to Wang Cheng's skepticism, Zhang Xiaolong looked around and then, as if struck by an idea, said, “Given the circumstances, I have no choice but to give this method a try!”

Wang Cheng couldn't quite catch his muttering and watched as Zhang Xiaolong slowly approached an old sycamore tree in the yard and rested his hand upon it.

“Sycamore tree, I urgently need to save someone, so I'll borrow your spiritual energy for now. Once I've recovered, I promise to nourish you with the Hundred-grass Spring Coming Arts,” Zhang Xiaolong whispered to himself. He then began to reverse the flow of his Divine Arts, drawing strands of unseen plant essence into his palm.

In moments, the once lush sycamore tree began to sprout numerous withered yellow leaves, which drifted down with the breeze.

“This…” Wang Cheng blinked in astonishment. He would have never believed such a tale from anyone else, but the undeniable evidence was right before his eyes, involving his very own tree, leaving no room for deceit.

Turning back to Zhang Xiaolong, he saw a remarkable transformation. Moments ago, Zhang Xiaolong appeared gravely ill, but now he was brimming with vitality, seemingly restored to his prime condition.

“Mr. Wang, I'm going to check on Dr. Wang's condition now. Could you please fetch a set of silver needles for me?” Zhang Xiaolong didn't have any needles himself, but he knew the Wang family would surely have them on hand.

“Alright…” Wang Cheng was still reeling from the recent shock. He quickly located a set of silver needles and handed them to Zhang Xiaolong.

Upon receiving the silver needles, Zhang Xiaolong examined them briefly before making his way to the room.

“Are you going to administer acupuncture to my father?” Wang Cheng asked, following him into the room.

“Yes,” Zhang Xiaolong confirmed with a nod. “At this point, it seems to be the only method that might rouse him. I need to delve deeper into the Acupuncture Technique to develop a more comprehensive approach. Moreover, Dr. Wang has endured the ravages of the Ebola Virus firsthand, which undoubtedly has given him valuable insights. He might have his own ideas about which medicines could be effective for treatment, even if he's currently unable to express them. Regardless, I must give it a try!”