Chapter 1: The National Healer Cultivation System

"Xiao Zhang, go set up the electroacupuncture device."
"Xiao Zhang, go remove the fire cups."
...
At twenty-five, Zhang Jing had been feeling rather stifled lately.

He had joined Mingde Hall Traditional Medicine Clinic almost half a year ago with his Physician's License. Yet, every day, he was still treated like an intern, constantly at the beck and call of others.

There were several times when Zhang Jing wanted to throw in the towel and quit on the spot.

But then he would think of the current suffocating competition for degrees. With only a regular bachelor's diploma, coming from a rural family with neither money nor connections, and his specialty being traditional Chinese medicine—a field with few available positions—finding a job that actually matched his profession was no small feat.

Reason told him he could not act rashly.

Though jobs were scarce and the pay for new graduates was meager, he had never considered changing careers.

To become a highly skilled and pure traditional physician had been Zhang Jing's obsession ever since the fifth grade. As for the reason, he had always buried it deep in his heart, never breathing a word to anyone.

During his five years at university, Zhang Jing studied diligently. Apart from the core courses in Western medicine and English, he consistently ranked at the top of his class in every traditional medicine subject.

A year after graduating, he passed the medical licensing exam with high marks.

Nevertheless, Zhang Jing knew full well that to become a truly capable healer, mastering the theories in textbooks was far from sufficient.

Without clinical experience, all was empty talk—useless on the battlefield of illness!

Thus, with nowhere better to go, he could only stick it out at this small clinic to accumulate practical experience.

Zhang Jing also understood that, under the guidance of a master physician, progress would be much faster.

But without a work history at a major hospital, let alone the chance to apprentice under a national-level master, even attending a lecture by a renowned doctor was a distant dream.

“In all things, the great physician must calm his mind, be free of desire, and first give rise to great compassion and empathy, vowing to relieve the suffering of all living beings. When illness or misfortune comes seeking aid, one must not ask about wealth or status, age or beauty, friend or foe, native or foreign, wise or foolish—all are to be treated equally, as if they were one’s own kin. Nor should one worry about personal gain or loss, or cherish one’s own life and safety...”

These words from Sun Simiao’s “The Great Doctor’s Sincerity” served as the entrance oath for all students of traditional medicine.

Zhang Jing still vividly remembered the scene of his own oath-taking.

Thinking of this, he closed his eyes and silently recited the passage.

“Ding~”

Just then, a strange sound echoed in Zhang Jing’s mind.

A line of glowing green characters appeared before his closed eyes, banishing the darkness.

“Beep beep beep~ System message: Congratulations, host. The National Physician Cultivation System has successfully bonded.”

Zhang Jing froze, bewildered.

The display shifted again.

Soon, several large lines of text floated before his eyes:

Host Name: Zhang Jing
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Occupation: Pure Traditional Physician
Medical Ethics Rating: Excellent
Medical Skill Level: Apprentice of Traditional Medicine

Clinical Experience: 0

Only now did Zhang Jing truly realize: he had been possessed by the legendary system!

This was a once-in-a-lifetime, wholly unexpected opportunity!

Forcing down his excitement, Zhang Jing steadied himself.

But when he saw his medical skill level, he couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

So, not even the system could be fooled.

Having a license to practice independently didn’t mean he truly had the ability to diagnose and treat on his own.

As for clinical experience, Zhang Jing had some complaints. He had, after all, been working nearly half a year. Though he’d seen pitifully few patients, there had still been some. Giving him a flat zero seemed a bit harsh!

Still, the system paid his protest no mind and soon another line appeared:

“Beep beep beep~ System message: New user task: Recite Article 3, Article 33, and Article 333 of the ‘Treatise on Cold Damage’ to activate the simulated apprenticeship with a famous traditional physician.”

Zhang Jing was secretly delighted. If it had been any other medical classic, he might only be passably familiar. But the “Treatise on Cold Damage” was his nightly bedside reading. Of all 398 articles, he could nearly recite them backward.

A brief recollection, and he began to recite seriously:

“Article 3: In Taiyang disease, whether fever has already appeared or not, there must be aversion to cold, body pain, retching, and a pulse tight on both yin and yang sides; this is called Cold Damage.”

“Article 33: In combined Taiyang and Yangming disease, if there is no diarrhea but only vomiting, the Decoction of Kudzu Root with Pinellia is indicated.”

“Article 333: In Cold Damage, if the pulse is slow for six or seven days, and yet Huangqin Decoction is given to clear heat, since a slow pulse indicates cold, giving Huangqin Decoction further removes heat, so the abdomen should be cold and unable to eat. If, however, the patient can eat, this is called removal of the center and is certain death.”

As soon as he finished, the system chimed in again:

“Beep beep beep~ System message: Recitation verified as completely accurate! Task complete, issuing reward! Simulated Famous Physician Apprenticeship module loading, please wait...”

While he waited, Zhang Jing was filled with both joy and curiosity.

What kind of learning mode would this be?

Would he, like in certain novels, travel back to the era of a deceased master to receive hands-on teaching?

Truth be told, that would be wonderful—though hopping back and forth through different eras might drive anyone mad.

As he was musing...

“Beep beep beep~ System message: Simulated Famous Physician Apprenticeship module loaded. Teaching sequence about to begin. Please lie flat and close your eyes. Level one preparation, level two preparation, level three preparation... Departing!”

Zhang Jing was stunned, reminded of old sci-fi thrillers he’d watched as a child.

Sure enough, as the command was issued, he felt himself swept into a pitch-black tunnel through time and space.

But after only a few seconds, everything suddenly brightened.

Opening his eyes wide, Zhang Jing found himself in completely unfamiliar surroundings—yet, judging by the architecture and the bustling traffic, it seemed to be the same era as his own.

Was this a virtual world, or another, unfamiliar city?

For a moment, Zhang Jing was utterly confused.

Suddenly, he realized there was a major bug in the system.

He was supposed to be apprenticing under a teacher, but he didn’t even know the instructor’s name. Even if this was a virtual city, shouldn’t there be some sort of rendezvous signal?

No hints at all—was the system just messing with him?

“System, system, I need help!” Zhang Jing called out in his mind.

As expected, the system ignored him.

Just as he was at a loss, a man’s voice sounded behind him.

“Hey! Young man—are you Zhang Jing?”

Zhang Jing turned in surprise, seeing a cultured and refined young man of about thirty approaching.

“That’s right. May I ask, who are you...?” Zhang Jing was completely bewildered.

“Oh, I’m Li Yu. Didn’t you call me earlier to ask if you could follow me and copy prescriptions?” the young man said, pausing slightly.

Copy prescriptions?

Suddenly it dawned on Zhang Jing—this was the teacher the system had arranged for him.

But this fellow didn’t look much older than himself. How skilled could he possibly be? An apprenticeship under a renowned teacher, indeed! This system was certainly cutting corners—truly unreliable!

A wave of inexplicable disappointment washed over him.

“Why did the system send you? Can I request a transfer?” Zhang Jing muttered under his breath.

“System? Who’s that?” Now it was Li Yu’s turn to be confused.

“Well... um...” Zhang Jing suddenly realized how foolish his question was.

He tried to explain, but found himself at a loss for words.

Fortunately, Li Yu seemed to have misunderstood. Furrowing his brow, he said, “If you want to switch instructors, that’s fine. I’ll ask the leaders at the National Medical Hall to see if they can reassign you.”

“No, no, Li—Dr. Li, I was just joking before. I’d be honored to learn from you,” Zhang Jing hurriedly replied.

At the mention of “National Medical Hall,” Zhang Jing immediately knew he had misjudged the system.

He’d heard back in university that the National Medical Hall was a prestigious chain of traditional medicine clinics, with branches only in provincial capitals and a few major cities.

Every physician there was a genuine master of traditional medicine—ranging from nationally honored elders versed in both ancient and modern techniques, to a multitude of brilliant younger experts.

For Li Yu to be practicing there was proof enough of his skill.

Li Yu cleared his throat and said earnestly, “For young people learning traditional medicine, the greatest mistake is aiming too high and too early. It’s best to first lay a solid foundation. Only then, when you apprentice under the great masters, will your progress soar.”

“Yes, yes, Dr. Li, you’re absolutely right. I’ll do my best to learn from you.”

Seeing Zhang Jing’s sincerity, Li Yu finally nodded.

Then, with a cheerful wave, he said, “Work is about to start—let’s hurry. The National Medical Hall is just ahead, around the corner.”