Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1170 - 568:

"I believe the manner in which he wielded that knife earlier brought someone to mind."

"Who?"

"Ghost Hand."

"Ghost Hand?!"

The young assistant appeared shocked, clearly unfamiliar with this moniker.

"He was a formidable figure who left the martial world and retired more than ten years back."

The black market doctor dropped his voice, a trace of odd thrill lacing his words:

"Back then, he reigned supreme, the enigmatic top black market doctor across all of East Capital, famed as the reborn Hua Tuo, the miracle-working Ghost Hand."

"Legends say his hands could slay without a trace and pull souls back from King Yan's grasp."

"No one else comes to mind with such astonishing abilities in this world."

.........

Dim lights flickered in the corridor, walls showing signs of age and wear.

Lin Fusheng raised his head, eyes traveling down the hallway to the reception area at the far end.

An outdated TV mounted on the wall broadcast the midday news.

The video captured a bird's-eye view of a rooftop terrace on a building, pockmarked with holes, sealed off resembling a war-torn site.

Two figures occupied the sofa.

One looked youthful and striking, clad in a plain black jacket, posture upright as he focused on the display.

The other sported black-rimmed glasses, of middle age, with an intellectual air akin to a university lecturer.

As his eyes landed on the young man, the tension in Lin Fusheng’s features eased somewhat.

"Uncle Lin."

Fang Cheng caught the sound of approaching steps, turned at once, and rose to greet him.

The professor rose too, hope shining in his gaze:

"Old Lin, was the operation a success?"

"The patient's life is out of danger."

Lin Fusheng gave a nod, approached the water cooler, and filled a cup:

"The lung issue was handled yesterday, today's removal of the two shrapnel pieces poses no problem, provided no infection sets in later, he ought to regain consciousness in three days."

"You've put in a lot of effort, thank you."

The professor let out a relieved breath, expressing genuine gratitude:

"Without your assistance this time, we'd have been at a loss, and the trail would definitely have gone cold."

Fang Cheng felt inner astonishment.

At first, upon hearing the professor mention inviting Lin Fusheng to lead the surgery, he had been quite taken aback.

Who would have thought that this Uncle Lin, who typically aided locals with bone adjustments at the massage parlor, possessed the capability for such perilous operations, his expertise even exceeding that of standard surgeons.

"Save the compliments."

Lin Fusheng showed no interest, after taking a drink, his voice grew icy:

"Had you not mentioned this fellow's connection to Ah Cheng, I wouldn't have gotten involved in this chaos."

The professor parted his lips but held back, merely dipping his head in a wry smile.

That expression carried a touch of powerlessness and remorse over old, unsettled debts.

During their exchange, Lin Fusheng’s attention shifted to the TV screen.

Subtitles ran across the bottom, the anchor positioned gravely, delivering the report in a serious manner:

"...On the evening of May 23, a brutal terrorist incident struck Silver Wing Building on Jinhai Road."

"In chasing the perpetrators, a military chopper accidentally went down from handling mistakes..."

"Now, the armed forces and police have teamed up in a special unit, securing the zone tightly, putting up bounties for tips, urging the public to share any knowledge they have..."

Lin Fusheng fixed his stare on the devastated landscape shown on the television for several moments.

Afterward, he pivoted to face the professor, speaking in a subdued tone laced with clear caution:

"Old Ye, whatever moves you're making, whether probing into those folks, keep Ah Cheng out of it."

"He's a fine lad, don't drag him into your dead-end road."

The professor threw up his hands in resignation, grumbling to himself.

Fang Cheng, this fellow who demolishes others without hesitation, still counts as a fine lad in your view, does he??

Truth be told, these days it's not me pulling him along; I'm the one supporting him, following his directives on every front.

Before this long-time companion, the professor acted entirely subdued, bereft of his typical poise and steadiness.

Fang Cheng remained on the side, staying silent, yet he grasped Lin Fusheng’s meaning well.

Even without questions from Uncle Lin, he probably had pieced together most of it.

As he mulled it over, Lin Fusheng abruptly spun and eyed him.

"What have you been occupied with recently? Haven't shown up at the shop in ages."

The sternness vanished from his countenance right away, shifting back to the friendly neighborhood senior:

"Is it that you find my spot too rundown, no pay offered, so you skip the unpaid labor?"

"No way, Uncle Lin."

Fang Cheng gave a light laugh, responding offhandedly:

"Lately, work has kept me swamped, truly no spare moments."

"Busy as work may be, remember to take breaks, avoid burning out."

Lin Fusheng didn't press on, simply clapped his shoulder:

"Drop in whenever you can. I'm no cheap employer, won't make you toil without reward. Your absence leaves the place feeling empty of conversation."

He paused, then infused his voice with deeper sincerity:

"Ah Cheng, don't let the massage and bone-setting techniques I passed to you fade; they're means to make a living and help others."

These words touched Fang Cheng's heart a bit.

Truthfully, he hadn't frequented Master Lin’s massage clinic lately.

Mainly since the criminal scene in Jiangbei had quieted down, not like the prior year with endless clashes and widespread gang fights.

With fewer fights, there were reduced cases of fractures or wounds requiring care.

Instead of lounging at the shop, he preferred honing other abilities at home to rack up more Experience Points.

Naturally, such thoughts stayed unsaid.

"Got it, Uncle Lin."

Fang Cheng answered smilingly:

"Just happening to feel the urge to manipulate some joints, I'll swing by in a few days."

With that, he pulled his car keys from a pocket:

"Come on, I'll drive you to Old Factory Street."

"No thanks, I'll grab a taxi, won't hold up your affairs..."

"I'm going home myself, it's on the route."

Fang Cheng persisted, snatching Lin Fusheng’s cloth bag from his grasp and striding toward the exit.

Lin Fusheng eyed him, warmth flickering in his gaze, no longer objecting, only shaking his head in mild exasperation.

Prior to departing, Fang Cheng glanced back at the professor and mimed a phone with his hand.

The professor got the signal, gave a subtle nod, signaling he'd monitor the Fire Dragon's condition and alert him at once if anything arose.

.........

A dark SUV pulled away from Jinshui Fish Market and blended into the flow of traffic on the main thoroughfare.

Billboards and towering buildings flashed past beyond the glass.

The vehicle's interior hung silent, carrying a weighty air.

Lin Fusheng occupied the front passenger seat, brows lightly knit, lost in thought.

Fang Cheng gripped the wheel, eyes locked on the path ahead, not starting any talk.

The motor hummed softly, the ride gliding smoothly onward.

As the vehicle ascended the bridge spanning the river to Jiangbei District, Lin Fusheng at last shattered the quiet.

"Ah Cheng, are you... involved with him these days?"

Lin Fusheng avoided naming him, but Fang Cheng understood it meant the professor.

"Something like that."

Fang Cheng tweaked the steering slightly, the car tracking the lane effortlessly.

"That guy's extremely scheming, his thoughts twisted like an endless labyrinth."

Lin Fusheng reclined into the seat, observing the blurring views outside, his manner detached as if speaking of a stranger:

"In the past, we clashed repeatedly over clashing beliefs. Get too near him, and you'd better stay vigilant."

"I appreciate the warning, Uncle Lin."

Fang Cheng maintained his forward stare, replying measuredly:

"However, at present, he's aligned with me, and that much I believe in."

Lin Fusheng let out a sigh, ceased the lecturing, just swiveled to peer through the window, his tone softening:

"That event last night, did it draw in the military?"

"Mere private grudge, nothing like what you imagine."

Fang Cheng answered evenly, deftly steering clear of details.

Lin Fusheng went quiet.

He recognized Fang Cheng's reluctance to reveal more, thus held off from digging deeper.

Each person treads their own road, certain things beyond an older generation's meddling.

The space inside quieted once more, solely the sound of tires meeting pavement persisting.

After quite a while, Lin Fusheng appeared to resolve an inner debate, then inquired abruptly:

"Ah Cheng, care to hear tales from your father's early years?"

Fang Cheng’s hands tensed briefly on the wheel, then he inclined his head faintly:

"Sure."