"Impossible. Even if Zhang Daofeng isn't dead, he would never pass the ancestral secret formulas of the Zhang family to outsiders!"

The old man shook his head again, still unconvinced by Zhang Yang's words.

Yet, doubt had begun to gnaw at him. At the very least, he now questioned Zhang Daofeng's demise. He felt Zhang Daofeng might still be alive; otherwise, why would anyone dare to disseminate the Zhang family's ancestral prescriptions?

For Zhang Yang, the very existence of someone who might doubt Zhang Daofeng's death was a blessing. With such a figure looming, many of his future complications could be deflected. Any explanation he couldn't readily provide in the future could simply be attributed to this mysterious person.

"Alright, I've told you my story. Now, shouldn't we discuss those medicinal herbs?"

Zhang Yang smiled faintly, deftly steering the conversation elsewhere. He hadn't anticipated that there was a branch of his Zhang family in Huzhou. Since the herbalist apprentice had learned the Zhang family's medical arts, they naturally became an offshoot; and this lineage seemed to have thrived, evolving from a mere clinic into something possessing the structure of a hospital—a purely Traditional Chinese Medicine hospital, which was exceedingly rare.

"The herbs are no issue. Whatever you need, we will provide it. We can even give them to you for free!"

Zhang Song waved his hand dismissively, but a slight frown creased Zhang Yang's brow. There were no free lunches in this world, and he understood that fundamental principle.

Before Zhang Yang could refuse, Zhang Song continued, "Mr. Zhang, we will give you the herbs immediately, and we will supply more whenever you require them in the future. In return, could you teach us what you know of these prescriptions so we can better serve the people? Rest assured, we won't take your formulas for nothing; we are prepared to pay you to purchase them!"

As Zhang Song finished speaking, the old man turned, his gaze fixed on Zhang Yang with palpable eagerness.

It had come. This was the primary reason Zhang Song and the old man had kept him here—they coveted the medicinal formulas in his possession. Zhang Yang finally grasped their true objective. In truth, the old man had been deeply agitated ever since recognizing the combination of Licorice, Poria, and Ginseng, his sole thought being to locate the person who compounded the medicine and learn the prescription. His own grandfather—that original apprentice—had only mastered the skills of healing but never obtained the Zhang family's secret formulas, a failure that remained his lifelong regret.

They were acutely aware of the profound importance of these secret arts. Mastering medical techniques might only elevate one to a good doctor, perhaps with modest renown. But mastering these ancestral formulas would make them true masters of medicine, elevating them to the ranks of first-rate TCM practitioners. Learn more, and one might even become a Sage Doctor, revered by all.

No physician, it seemed, could resist such allure; Zhang Song and the old man were no exception. They knew these formulas could completely transform them, perhaps even change the destiny of their entire lineage. With these prescriptions, they would essentially become the new Zhang family, superseding the medical legacy of the eighteen-hundred-year-old Medical Sage Zhang family. Over eighteen centuries, the Zhang family had produced countless Sage Doctors and left behind a trove of invaluable secret formulas—a monumental fortune for any TCM practitioner.

"Mr. Zhang, we will offer ten thousand yuan for each formula. We will purchase as many as you have. What do you say?"

Seeing Zhang Yang remain silent, Zhang Song pressed on. Ten thousand yuan per formula sounded meager, but it wasn't. If Zhang Yang truly possessed a thousand formulas, they would be looking at spending tens of millions just to acquire them. This possibility wasn't remote; given the family’s longevity, even an ancestor creating a handful of formulas was a remarkable achievement. At this point, Zhang Song was attempting to buy Zhang Yang off with money.

"I apologize, I have pressing matters and must take my leave."

Zhang Yang let out a quiet sigh, slowly rising to his feet. He glanced back at Zhang Song and the old man, his eyes conveying distinct disappointment. Initially, upon learning they were descendants of the apprentice, Zhang Yang had felt a strong sense of kinship; they were, after all, a branch of the Zhang family, the closest related people to the main line in this world. However, he never expected them to immediately demand his secret formulas. Ancestral secrets were not so easily surrendered. Furthermore, many compounding formulas required the auxiliary force of Neijin (Internal Energy); without it, even obtaining the prescription would be useless.

"Wait, Mr. Zhang, let's negotiate. If the price isn't satisfactory, you can name your figure. As long as it’s reasonable, we certainly won't let you suffer a loss!"

Zhang Song quickly shook his head, assuming Zhang Yang found his offer too low.

"Xiao Song is right. Moreover, we only ask for the formulas, not any patents. You can continue to use these prescriptions yourself; it's as if you haven't lost anything!" the old man murmured, looking constantly at Zhang Yang, hoping to use monetary temptation to secure the formulas.

On the surface, it sounded like Zhang Yang wouldn't be disadvantaged; he only needed to hand over the prescription, which he used sparingly anyway, and he could continue using the rest.

Zhang Yang paused, turning back for one last look at them, and slowly shook his head. He now understood clearly: these two cared nothing for his lineage or his connection to the Zhang family; their sole focus was the secret knowledge he held. If he weren't a member of the Zhang family, it might even suit them better—not being bound by the family's tradition of secrecy, perhaps they could all profit together.

"If one formula costs ten million, I might consider it."

Glancing back at them, Zhang Yang suddenly flashed a sharp, unsettling grin. Both men froze, their expressions quickly turning to annoyance. Ten million—they did have the funds. With their clinic thriving daily, they had amassed considerable capital, boasting a balance in the nine-figure range. However, this money belonged not to any individual but to the entire family structure. Dozens of family members worked at the clinic, jointly creating that wealth. Asking them to fork over tens of millions for a single formula was absolutely out of the question. They knew the Zhang family's ancestral lore contained more than just one formula; they wanted them all. At ten million each, acquiring the entire collection would demand an astronomical sum, one they could not afford, no matter their wealth. Ultimately, they were still just a hospital-style clinic; earning over a hundred million was excellent for their scale, and this income relied heavily on their constant high volume of business. It was then they realized Zhang Yang was deliberately trifling with them.

"Mr. Zhang, we have shown genuine sincerity. Your response seems rather uncooperative. More friends mean more opportunities; let's profit together. Clinging stubbornly to things you shouldn't, offers you no real advantage!"

Zhang Song's face darkened, becoming severely displeased as he spoke, his tone laced with an unmistakable threat.

"What should be guarded, I know best myself. If you won't sell the herbs, I'm leaving now."

Zhang Yang offered a small smile, but his expression held a chilling edge. The nerve to threaten him! Fortunately, Zhang Yang was in a reasonably good mood today and decided not to press the issue; otherwise, even with their large TCM clinic, he could ensure they spent a good few months recuperating in a hospital bed. With that, Zhang Yang stood up and walked toward the exit, this time without pausing again.

"You can't leave!"

Zhang Song suddenly cried out urgently, rushing forward and attempting to grab Zhang Yang. At this moment, he wasn't thinking of using force to seize the formulas, but purely of preventing Zhang Yang's departure; if Zhang Yang left, where would they find the prescriptions?

"Ouch!"

"Ah!"

The moment his hand reached for Zhang Yang's shoulder, Zhang Yang whipped out a hand, seized him, and tossed him directly onto the floor nearby. Both cries of pain were Zhang Song's. Zhang Yang’s expression turned profoundly cold. This man dared to lay hands on him! If his martial prowess hadn't been substantial, today might have ended with him walking straight into a tiger's den, potentially getting kidnapped by this man. After throwing Zhang Song, Zhang Yang cast one last look at the old man and strode out of the office.

"Third Uncle, call people! Hurry and call people! We can't let him go!"

Lying on the floor, Zhang Song continued to howl. Zhang Yang hadn't struck with full force, but the impact was significant enough to leave him thoroughly shaken. His backside was already aching, and he couldn't manage to get up.

"Forget it, stop calling. We misjudged the situation today."

The old man was staring in the direction Zhang Yang had departed, his eyes clouded with lingering alarm.

"Why? These are the Zhang family's secret formulas! Every single one is vital to us!"

Zhang Song finally managed to slowly pull himself up. He didn't realize that if Zhang Yang hadn't spared him out of consideration for their shared Zhang lineage, that single throw would have left him severely injured, requiring months of bed rest.

"What he used just now was Zhang family martial arts. He knows the Zhang family techniques, and he is proficient in them," the old man admitted with a note of bitterness.

A look of astonishment crossed Zhang Song’s face, quickly replaced by sheer terror. He knew what Zhang family martial arts represented—to them, it was the pinnacle of contemporary martial prowess. According to their ancestor's accounts, mastering the Zhang family techniques granted agility akin to a swift bird, the ability to scale walls, making one omnipotent. While that sounded exaggerated, the effectiveness of the Zhang family arts was undeniable; otherwise, how could Zhang Daoqian, operating alone, have decimated the Japanese invaders, killing several of them single-handedly?

Zhang Song's expression mirrored his shock. He, too, understood the formidable power of the Zhang family skills. If Zhang Yang truly commanded these arts, no matter how many of them were present, they could not stop him.

Leaving the clinic, Zhang Yang expelled a heavy breath and looked back at the place calling itself the 'Hua Tuo Residence.' It was rather absurd, he thought. They styled themselves after Hua Tuo, yet they studied the medical lineage of the Medical Sage Zhang Zhongjing. Zhang Yang surmised they were trying to establish an independent identity, distancing themselves from the influence of the main Zhang family line... Sixth chapter complete... RQ