Chapter 174 How Hard Is Your Fist?

Persuaded by the host, Wen Xi, the audience members finally returned to their seats, though their expressions remained brimming with excitement. Some of the beautiful women, in particular, were practically beside themselves with agitation.

Had Yang Xiaofan proposed that any of them attend to him tonight, it was likely none of them would have refused.

Of course, Yang Xiaofan would certainly never engage in any reckless or improper behavior in public.

Once every single spectator had returned to their respective place, host Wen Xi smiled and began:

"I know how deeply everyone adores Mr. Yang Xiaofan. This young man from the East possesses a unique power beyond our comprehension, yet one that draws us to him profoundly."

"As everyone knows, he is already a legendary figure in his homeland, possessing baffling prowess across numerous fields, including painting, music, Go, and traditional medicine..."

"Moreover, the very first day he arrived in our country, he descended as a hero, saving hundreds of passengers and two airplanes!"

"Woo~!"

The audience burst into enthusiastic applause, their cheers echoing endlessly.

Yang Xiaofan simply smiled and waved at the crowd.

Wen Xi continued:

"And then, he continued to unfold his legend."

"First, at the International Art Exchange Conference, he demonstrated his peerless mastery of both Eastern traditional painting and Western oil painting, followed shortly by his dominant musical talent."

"Although he was detained by certain individuals from the Special Bureau, he managed to regain his freedom in a mere four hours. Every single one of these feats reads straight out of a myth."

"Mr. Yang, if I may ask, how did you pull all of this off?"

Yang Xiaofan smiled.

"Which of those incidents are you referring to?"

"Oh right, look at me—I got so excited I completely forgot to put them in chronological order. Let's start with your rescue in the air."

"Where did you learn aviation technology? Why is your piloting skill so extraordinary? You managed to land a plane using only one hand while evading another aircraft. More importantly, didn't you also use traditional Eastern medicine to save your captain at the time?"

"That's right! Even I didn't expect that. Circumstances were critical, and both my family and I were on that plane. So when disaster struck, I had no choice but to draw upon everything I had learned in my life to save myself and everyone else on board."

...

Yang Xiaofan spoke fluently, adopting a diplomatic tone. Fooling these Westerners was easy enough, and after all, words didn't cost a thing.

Meanwhile, in the television station's data control room, the station director and his subordinates were excitedly tallying up the metrics.

"Director, our broadcast ratings are skyrocketing! Just a few minutes into the opening monologue, our online concurrent viewers have already surpassed two hundred thousand, shattering our usual peak record."

"Good! I knew bringing Yang Xiaofan on was the right decision. Blast the advertisements online immediately; we must capitalize on this momentum, fan the flames, drive our traffic through the roof, and set the world on fire."

...

Back in the studio, the moment Yang Xiaofan finished answering the first question, Wen Xi swiftly pressed on:

"Mr. Yang, could you explain the mechanics behind your medical expertise? Why was it that when the patient suffered an intracranial hemorrhage, you were able to cure him completely using only one hand?"

"That sort of medical art represents the profound mystery of our Eastern traditional medicine. You might perceive it as a superpower, but in reality, it is a capacity accessible to everyone. Its primary foundation is *qi*—an energy dormant within the human body. While faint in each individual, it can be strengthened through cultivation."

"Oh, I know about this! It's *qi gong*, right? I've heard that in the East, there's a kind of *qi gong* that can cure all ailments."

"You've got it all wrong."

Yang Xiaofan shook his head, instantly dismissing the notion.

"In truth, among billions of people, those who can truly cultivate *qi* through traditional medicine are vanishingly rare—you can count them on one hand. The vast majority of traditional doctors cannot heal using *qi*. Instead, they rely on acupuncture, herbal remedies, tui-na massage, and various other methods."

"<i>Qi</i> is a specialized technique accessible only to the absolute pinnacle of elite practitioners of traditional medicine."

Wen Xi could not help asking, looking somewhat perplexed:

"But didn't you just say a moment ago that this ability is something all human beings possess?"

"That is correct, but as I also mentioned, everyone's *qi* is exceedingly faint. Those who manage to cultivate it and enhance it are few and far between."

"My goodness, does that make you Superman?"

"It's not that exaggerated. It's simply a diagnostic and therapeutic method comparable to an MRI scan. Aside from being utterly exhausting, its applications are extremely limited. Take myself, for instance: I must maintain physical contact with someone to channel even the faintest trace of *qi* to heal them. It's nothing like the glowing energy beams you see in television science fiction."

"Oh, I see. So to put it simply, it's just... well, a slightly more powerful form of medical treatment."

"You could put it that way."

"Gasp~! Well then, Mr. Yang, you truly are magnificent. To have mastered such a technique at such a young age is simply incredible."

The audience erupted into applause, while the ratings outside surged exponentially.

Netizens from both the East and the West, glued to their television screens, frantically hammered out comments.

"My god, my brother-in-law actually commands legendary *qi*! That is insanely badass!"

"As expected of my brother-in-law, he's good at literally everything. If one day he claimed he was going to ascend to immortality, I honestly wouldn't even doubt it."

"Good lord, the East really is a mysterious land—they have everything over there. Forget it, I'm going to the East; I need to learn that country's mystical *qi*!"

...

In the data room, a staff member excitedly reported to the director:

"Director, our online viewership has just broken eight hundred thousand!"

"Splendid! Keep it up."

The director tightly clenched his fists, his eyes bloodshot with excitement.

Many might think: *Isn't it just a mere eight hundred thousand online streams?*

Domestically, couldn't any random internet influencer with a million followers easily crush those numbers?

That was a common misconception.

First of all, many domestic influencers artificially inflate their metrics. In other words, their view counts are completely fabricated, padded with massive amounts of fake data!

For many top-tier internet celebrities, having a few dozen thousand concurrent viewers on any given night is already considered a stellar performance; where on earth would you find a million people with nothing better to do than waste time watching a livestream?

Television network data, however, is entirely genuine.

This meant that an online viewership of eight hundred thousand represented at least eight hundred thousand distinct individuals watching.

In fact, with entire families of several people gathered around a single television screen, the actual number of viewers was well beyond eight hundred thousand.

Furthermore, this television talk show usually garnered a mere one to two hundred thousand concurrent streams on a regular day. Now, it had instantly surged to eight hundred thousand—a full fourfold increase!

With such a massive influx of traffic, the number of advertising and entertainment agencies eager to sign contracts with the station would skyrocket.

Consequently, as the station brought in more revenue, its broadcast reach would expand further, ensuring a continuous, ever-growing stream of profits and business partners.

This formed a virtuous cycle.

It was a feat very few could pull off.

Yet Yang Xiaofan had done it, which bordered on the miraculous.

It was both deeply thrilling and exhilarating.

Especially for the station director, who knew his high-stakes gamble had paid off entirely.

As the online viewership continued its steady climb, Yang Xiaofan's program pressed onward.

"Aside from traditional medicine and piloting aircraft, I hear you also defeated AlphaGo in a game of Go? That was an elite artificial intelligence created by a top-tier tech corporation in our country, boasting formidable learning and simulation capabilities. I truly have no idea how you managed to conquer all of that."

"That comes down to my intelligence, which is difficult to articulate to you. However, one thing I can say is that whether it's computers or artificial intelligence, these tools are ultimately created by human beings themselves. No matter how advanced they become, they can never surpass humans. It is an inherent supremacy of bloodline."

"A supremacy of bloodline—such an overbearing statement. Are all you people from the East so domineering?"

Pausing briefly, Wen Xi continued:

"By the way, Mr. Yang, your songs currently dominate every major chart. Do you have any thoughts on that?"

"No particular thoughts, really. My phone just keeps buzzing incessantly because money keeps pouring in endlessly."

"Good grief, terrifying. Truly worthy of Mr. Yang."

This moment drove the online audience into a frenzy of humorous commentary.

"Brother-in-law is so domineering; I want to be rich too."

"I heard brother-in-law made over a billion US dollars. Is that true?"

"Talking nonsense, it's clearly several billion US dollars!"

"Holy crap, several billion US dollars converted into domestic currency is an unfathomable number of billions. It makes you green with envy and hatred! Those songs haven't even been out for twenty-four hours yet."

"This is probably the difference between mortals and deities."

Wen Xi chimed in with a look of pure envy:

"It truly makes one envious, Mr. Yang. We have countless fans present here, and countless more before their television screens. I wonder if you might be willing to sing a song for us all?"

"Of course."

Yang Xiaofan did not play hard to get. Singing a song wasn't going to kill him, and he could consider it doing a favor for that hundred-and-ten-million-dollar paycheck.

Before long, he broke into a breathtakingly beautiful love song.

Every single member of the audience became completely lost within his vocals, unable to extricate themselves.

Even among those few individuals in the spectator stands who had previously worn unfriendly expressions, one could not help but crack a foolish, enchanted smile, praising in admiration:

"Beautiful! My god, it's truly too beautiful! I've never heard a song this gorgeous. I'm almost tempted to download all his other tracks just to listen to them."

His companion beside him immediately drove a fist straight into the back of his head, sending a jolt of pain that made him wince, clutch his head, and shed tears.

"Ouch! That hurts like hell, what are you hitting me for?"

His companion glared at him coldly and scoffed in annoyance:

"I hit you to teach you a lesson! Have you forgotten who he is? Did you forget that he is our enemy?"

"But... but he sings really well, though."

"You're still talking? Do you want me to knock you out?"

Seeing his companion raise a fist once more, the man hastily shielded his head and conceded defeat.

"Alright, alright, my bad. I won't say another word, okay?"

"Hmph! That's more like it. Good thing you have some brains. Otherwise, before dealing with this despicable Easterner today, I would have had to beat some sense into your thick skull first."

The moment his voice trailed off, Yang Xiaofan finished his song, waved to the crowd, and offered a cool, composed smile so dashing it provoked a wave of wild cheering from the masses.

The young women, in particular, stared with shining eyes, utterly at a loss for words, their eyes red from weeping.

It made Yang Xiaofan inwardly sigh that celebrity fan culture was universally identical across all nations.

When excited, people were willing to risk their lives.

Still, it hardly mattered. The talk show segment was brief and would likely conclude shortly.

He just needed to wait a little longer, field a few more casual topics, and everything would wrap up.

However, right at that moment, an unexpected disruption occurred.

A sarcastic, shrill jeer suddenly rang out from the spectator stands.

"Kid, you certainly have a few tricks up your sleeve. I hear you even know traditional Eastern martial arts?"

Instantly, many heads turned toward the stands.

The camera shifted upward as well, allowing the viewers at home to see who had spoken.

It was a lean, wiry Western youth whose gaze was as vicious as a wolf's.

"Who the hell is this guy? Why is he being so arrogant?"

"Exactly! Daring to criticize our brother-in-law—does he have a death wish?"

"Wait a minute, this guy... this guy looks like a professional UFC fighter!"

"A UFC fighter? How good is he?"

"I heard he's a rising star in the UFC, with really solid technique and fighting style. He's very likely a future title contender."

"Geez, you wouldn't know it just by looking at him; his build doesn't look all that impressive."

"UFC doesn't care about build; matches are decided by technique. Using softness to overcome hardness, there's no telling who wins and who loses."

"Alright, alright, stop rambling, both of you. Better figure out what brother-in-law is going to do. Popping up like this out of nowhere, he definitely doesn't mean well."

"Right, exactly."

Inside the studio, Wen Xi looked momentarily dazed.

This wasn't in the script! Where had this guy crawled out from?

The station director and other staff members wore equally bewildered expressions, having no clue what was happening.

"Who is this fellow? Is he here to cause trouble? Have security escort him out immediately! This is a special broadcast recording—do you know how hard it was to get Yang Xiaofan here? If he gets pissed off and walks out, our hundred and ten million dollars will go down the drain!"