Chapter 2 The Thirteen Needles of Crossing Worlds

"Get lost! You're not getting in my car, and you're not touching Grandpa!" Ella stood there like a furious little kitten, her fiery defiance all but daring Sherman to try something. Sherman's patience snapped. In his eyes, Ella was acting completely irrational. Without hesitation, he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the car. "Let me go, you jerk!" Ella thrashed and struggled, her voice rising in protest. Slap! Slap! Sherman wasn't about to coddle her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, hauled her up, and landed two firm smacks. Ella froze, her body trembling with shock as she turned to glare at Sherman. "You ... you hit me!" Sherman didn't even blink. He dumped her unceremoniously onto the ground and leaned in, his voice cold and threatening. "Shut up, or I'll make sure you regret it. Out here in the middle of nowhere, you won't have anywhere to run. Even those beasts couldn't take me down—think about that." Fear immediately washed over Ella's face, silencing her. Ignoring her, Sherman climbed back into the car. He started by taking Jack's pulse, his fingers pressing against the older man's wrist with practiced precision. A flicker of understanding crossed his face. Sherman pulled out a set of silver needles, sterilized them, and swiftly inserted them into Jack's key pressure points. Jack, who had been struggling to breathe moments before, gradually began to stabilize. His once-labored breaths evened out into a calm, steady rhythm. Outside the car, the two bodyguards exchanged surprised glances but chose to stay silent, watching in awe. Jack's eyes fluttered open, his voice weak but grateful. "Thank you ... Your skills are truly remarkable." Sherman checked his pulse again and nodded slightly. "Your meridians are blocked. It's a side effect of forcing a breakthrough in martial arts that didn't succeed." A spark lit up in Jack's eyes. "You're sharp. Could it be ... that you're also a martial artist?" Sherman remained silent. His master had drilled into him the importance of keeping his martial arts abilities under wraps unless necessary. Drawing attention to his skill could lead to trouble. "You'll need to bear with me," Sherman said, his tone calm and confident. "I'll clear the blockages in your meridians. Once they're open, your strength as a Grade Four martial artist will return, and any lingering ailments should vanish as well." Jack's eyes widened in disbelief, his breath catching. "Young man, are you saying ... you can truly heal me?" The excitement in his voice was palpable. For years, Jack had been plagued by this condition, a failed attempt at advancement that left him a shadow of his former self. The decline in his strength had dragged down the influence of his entire faction. He had sought countless renowned doctors, all of whom had been helpless to treat him. Sherman gave a small nod. Jack's case wasn't particularly challenging for someone of his expertise. With medical skills nearing the legendary Medicine King level, Sherman knew exactly what to do. "If you can cure me," Jack said, his voice trembling with emotion, "name your price. Anything you ask will be yours." Jack was too excited. Over the years, he had already given up hope and abandoned treatment, only wanting to live a little longer to pave the way for the next generation. Hearing that there was still hope for him now, he was, of course, overjoyed. Sherman frowned slightly. Despite Jack's wealth and status, his impulsiveness left a poor impression. Without a word, Sherman removed the needles and sterilized them again before beginning a second round of treatment. This time, he employed his ultimate technique—the Thirteen Needles of Crossing Worlds. Once this needle was used, it could eliminate all disasters in the world, making it nearly impossible for anyone to die. Jack's breath caught. He realized that at this moment, Sherman was exuding an aura so powerful it even shocked him. One by one, the thirteen needles were expertly placed, each with a precision that spoke of years of rigorous training. A surge of warm energy coursed through Jack's body, healing damaged meridians and restoring vitality. Jack's complexion, pale and ashen just minutes earlier, gradually regained a healthy, rosy hue. Boom! A surge of powerful energy erupted from Jack's body like a slumbering wolf suddenly awakening from a deep sleep. The car door opened, and the two bodyguards outside nearly collapsed, their legs trembling uncontrollably. Fear filled their wide-eyed expressions as they stood frozen in place. Inside the car, Sherman remained completely unfazed by Jack's imposing aura. Jack was, after all, just a mere Grade Four martial artist. Martial artists were ranked from Grade One to Grade Nine, with Grade One being the lowest and Grade Nine the highest. Before reaching Grade One, one was merely a non-martial artist. Grade One to Grade Three were categorized as lower-grade martial artists. Grade Four to Grade Six were considered mid-grade martial artists and commonly referred to as Grandmasters. Grade Seven to Grade Nine were high-grade martial artists, earning them the title of Supreme Master. Sherman, however, was a Grade Nine martial artist at the pinnacle of perfection, truly deserving the title of Supreme Master. "I've truly regained my strength!" Jack exclaimed, tears of joy streaming down his face as he felt the immense power coursing through his body. It had been so long since he'd experienced this feeling of strength and vitality. "Savior, my name is Jack Summer. Thank you for helping me!" With that, he bowed deeply to Sherman. Sherman accepted the gesture with calm composure. "I didn't treat you for free," Sherman said plainly. "According to the rules of the Medical Sect, we charge only one dollar to treat the poor. For the wealthy, we charge 3,000 dollars, and they must also donate 100,000 dollars to charity." Jack had assumed Sherman would demand a fee in the millions. Even if Sherman had asked for such an amount, Jack would've paid it without hesitation—his life was worth far more than that. But when Sherman only requested 3,000 dollars and a charitable donation, Jack's respect for him grew immensely. He saw Sherman as a principled young man. "What's your name?" Jack asked. "Sherman Lief," he replied. "A pleasure to meet you." When they stepped out of the car, Jack burst into hearty laughter. "Meeting my savior today has truly been my good fortune." The two bodyguards were stunned, as was Ella, who was still sitting on the ground in disbelief. The previously frail and dying Jack was now not only alive but standing strong. "Grandpa, are you okay?" Ella quickly scrambled to her feet and ran to Jack, overwhelmed with joy. Jack nodded with a smile. "I'm fine. Not only have my internal injuries healed but my Martial Arts Realm has been restored as well." "That's amazing!" Ella cheered, jumping up and down with excitement. But her joy was short-lived. She turned to Sherman and pointed at him accusingly, her expression fierce. "Grandpa, he bullied me earlier! You have to teach him a lesson!" Jack's face darkened. "Stop that nonsense! He's the benefactor of our family. Apologize to him immediately!" Ella stared at her grandfather in disbelief. "Grandpa, are you out of your mind? I'm your most beloved granddaughter! I was bullied, and not only are you refusing to stand up for me, but you want me to apologize to him?" Jack sighed, trying to reason with her. "Ella, this man saved my life. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be standing here today. Be a good girl and apologize." "I won't!" Ella's eyes reddened with anger. "He bullied me! Why should I apologize? Are you going to help me or not? If you don't, I'll call someone who will!" Ella, had been pampered her whole life, couldn't tolerate such humiliation. Sherman shook his head, watching the spoiled girl act out. She was self-centered, caring for no one but herself. Jack, visibly furious, raised his hand to strike her, but it hesitated mid-air. Deep down, he couldn't bring himself to hit her. Ella was his most cherished granddaughter, after all. Ella grabbed her phone. "I'll call someone right now to take care of you, you filthy savage!" Patience has its limits, and Sherman, known for his short temper, was at the end of his rope. Ella's relentless disrespect pushed him over the edge. In one swift step, Sherman closed the distance between them.