Chapter 35: This Is Not a Man to Mess With

As soon as the group of people appeared, John immediately sensed they were in cahoots with the old woman.

This wasn't some simple accident—it was blackmail.

After thinking for a moment, John squatted down beside the old woman and said calmly, "Well, I don't think you're injured."

"That's what you say," the old woman snapped, glaring at him. "I only trust the hospital to tell me if I'm hurt or not. You've got two choices—either cough up ten or twenty thousand dollars to take me to the hospital for a full-body examination, or hand over a few thousand now and we settle it privately. Your call."

John smirked. "What a coincidence. My sister and I are both doctors. No need to go to the hospital. I'll examine you right here."

"A doctor?" The old woman's heart skipped a beat. Damn. Just my luck to run into professionals.

But she quickly composed herself, scowling. "I don't believe you. Even if you are a doctor, can you diagnose internal injuries with your bare eyes? I'm in serious pain! My injuries are on the inside—do you understand?"

"Oh?" John raised an eyebrow. "Then how do you know you've got internal injuries? From what I can see, you look completely fine."

His tone was light, almost teasing, but it only infuriated the old woman more. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?! I can't move! My whole body hurts! What else could it be if not internal injuries?!"

She let out another exaggerated groan.

John, wearing a faint smile, suddenly and discreetly pressed a specific acupuncture point on her body—so subtle no one even noticed.

The old woman continued moaning dramatically, but moments later, her expression abruptly changed.

A sudden, uncontrollable urge to relieve herself hit her.

What the hell?!

Why do I have a stomachache now?!

Her face turned a deep purple as she tried to hold it in. But at last, she couldn't take it anymore. She shot up and shouted, "Forget it! I can't hold it in anymore!"

Then she bolted away like a sprinter.

John called after her with a smirk, "Impressive. So much for internal injuries—she can still run pretty damn fast."

The yellow-haired punk and his gang stared in stunned silence as the old woman disappeared from sight.

This was not how the plan was supposed to go.

"What do we do now? Keep going?" one of them asked uncertainly.

"Boss, I've got an idea," one of the younger thugs said with a sinister grin. "How about we make it worth our while? Just look at that girl over there—she's gorgeous. What if we—"

Splash!

Before he could even finish the sentence, he found himself airborne, hurled like a human javelin. The next moment, he landed with a splash in the nearby river.

"Holy shit!"

The yellow-haired punk and the rest of the crew froze in place, utterly stunned.

They were standing over ten meters away from the riverbank. How did John manage to throw a person that far?

A fucking monster, the yellow-haired punk thought, trembling.

John looked at them, eyes cold. "Jump in yourselves… or would you like me to help you, too?"

"No, no! We'll go! We're going!" They chuckled nervously, then sprinted toward the river and dove in without another word.

Tracy, who had been silently watching from the side, looked at John with astonishment. "You're incredibly strong! How is that possible?"

John grinned. "Just practice."

The Next Day

Tracy headed off to the provincial capital to purchase more medicine.

John remained at the clinic.

As expected, the place was packed. The waiting line stretched from the seating area inside to far beyond the clinic's main entrance.

On duty today was Quin Lynn, the personal disciple of Holbrook Davis, Master of Traditional Medicine.

That title alone was enough to attract crowds.

Helping out at Feazer Clinic, besides John, were two other young assistants—both students of Dr. Lynn. Still, with the overwhelming number of patients, they were struggling to keep up.

People just kept coming, the line showing no signs of thinning.

As John helped dispense medicine, he frowned when he noticed the prescriptions coming from Dr. Lynn.

He didn't believe Quin Lynn deserved the reputation he carried.

All of Lynn's prescriptions were bloated with multiple calming herbs like nightshade. Where one or two herbs would have sufficed, Lynn always prescribed five or six of the same type.

It was clear—he was padding the prescriptions to make extra money.

But since no patient had complained, John held his tongue.

There was a common misconception: the more herbs a prescription had, the more effective it must be. In reality, a true master of traditional Chinese medicine followed a precise formulation—only four major categories of herbs, and rarely more than ten ingredients in total.

Still, doctors often added harmless extras as a matter of personal preference, or to make the prescription seem more elaborate and convincing.

Consequently, most doctors' prescriptions were filled with over a dozen herbs—some even as many as thirty.

It was an unhealthy trend, but one patients eagerly embraced. If a prescription looked too simple, they assumed the doctor was inexperienced or careless.

Thanks to his prestigious title as Holbrook Davis's student, Quin Lynn enjoyed unwavering trust.

A few patients even smiled to themselves when receiving his prescriptions, convinced they were getting special treatment because of the sheer number of ingredients.

By midmorning, more than half the day had passed, yet the line of patients still stretched long.

Next came a young girl, just a few years old, her cheeks flushed red and forehead dotted with sweat.

After a brief examination, Dr. Lynn said, "Classic fever symptoms. A set of White Tiger Potion will do."

He quickly scribbled the prescription and handed it over.

As the girl's mother collected the herbs and was about to leave, John glanced at the child and frowned.

Something didn't sit right.

"Please wait a moment!" he called out.

The woman turned back, confused. "Is something wrong?"

John stared at the girl and asked, "Why is your daughter grabbing your clothes like that, clinging to you as if she wants to crawl inside?"

The woman's face darkened. She thought he was making an inappropriate comment.

But John's voice turned stern, cutting through her suspicion. "Please answer me honestly. Your daughter's life may depend on it."