As a modern master of the ancient self-healing Chinese art of qigong, Liu Sujiang tends to his patients - who suffer a myriad of ailments ranging from arthritis to high-blood pressure - in uniformed, disciplined fashion. He starts by calling for silence in the room, which his wife dutifully abides by switching off the TV. Patrons having their feet massaged nearby stop talking to one another and silence their cellphones.

Like a magician preparing an illusion, Liu rubs his hands together and closes his eyes. His breathing slows as he enters a meditative state characterized by intense concentration.

He gently runs his warm palms across different areas of his patient's body, moving up and down from the sacroiliac joints at the hip all the way up to the neck. Faced down, the patient remains motionless and Liu's eyes remain closed for almost all of the hour-long session that costs 300 yuan ($48) yet delivers what some argue are invaluable health benefits.

Finding 'balance' in the body

As one of the oldest forms of traditional Chinese medicine (TCM), qigong dates back to the Han Dynasty (206BC-220AD), when it was used as means to purify the body and mind, it grew in popularity after the founding of the People's Republic of China in 1949 and went on to spread globally through Chinese immigrants who settled abroad.

Like some other forms of TCM, qigong is not short of its skeptics. Some argue it is a pseudoscientific practice and question the medical legitimacy of the concept of qi ("life energy") in the human body.

Liu insists his methods seek to cultivate a person's qi, which supposedly flows within us all. "Qigong leads to better health, vitality and a more tranquil state of mind. If I can help others get there or even reach a state close to it, I feel I've done my job," Liu told Metro Beijing.

According to Taoist theory, harmony and good health are created when contrasting aspects are in balance.

The theory of yin and yang - a Taoist philosophical reference to "shadow" and "light" used to describe how opposite forces are interconnected - is rooted in the belief that wholeness and good health are achievable through "rebalancing" delivered by qigong.

Of the five established categories of qigong - medical, Taoist, Buddhist, Confucian and martial arts - the most common form is medical qigong, which Liu specializes in at his modest apartment-cum-clinic in Shuangjing, Chaoyang district.

It's hard to imagine more humble surroundings for a reputable master of a traditional Chinese healing method. Liu, 44, is originally from Yuanshi county in North China's Hebei Province.

He settled in Beijing in 2005 with his wife and daughter, who also help run his TCM clinic from a ground floor apartment.

Services including head, foot and body massages, as well as acupuncture and reflexology are all offered. But it's no secret qigong is one of the clinic's most sought-after services.

Healing powers

Liu recalled he was introduced to qigong when his brother offered to share his "personal hobby."

"It was my older brother who first suggested I take up kung fu. It was from this that I discovered qigong," Liu explained. "I don't know how he got into it, but he taught me the basics when I was 17. I completed middle school, but never enrolled at university. I've been practicing qigong ever since."

Inside Liu's homely clinic, two large velvet pennants take pride of place on a wall in between medical posters charting reflective zones on the human body. The red pennants are emblazoned with striking gold Chinese characters, exclamation points and seemingly significant dates.

Liu explains they were a gift from 31-year-old former patient, Gong Yulin, from North China's Shanxi Province. Gong suffered for years from a form of rheumatoid spinal arthritis called Ankylosing Spondylitis before turning to the qigong master in 2009 as a "last resort."

"When [Gong] first came to me, he could barely walk. I carried him to his bed. He had tried everything in Western medicine," said Liu.

On account of his immobility, Gong stayed at Liu's apartment for 17 days and followed a strict regimen of a gyrating type exercise - a worm-like wriggle facing the wall that he performed at least 100 times daily - and a diet consisting of only boiling water and hot, but not spicy, food.

"Eventually, [the exercise] loosened up his spine just enough for me to start restoring the qi in his body. The process of qigong means that when I extract pain, that pain then inhabits me," Liu explained.

Great medicinal divide

Liu expects a surge in patients amid the onset of winter. Many middle-aged or elderly people suffering ailments, such as joint inflammation aggravated by the cold weather, turn to Liu seeking relief through qigong.

Arthritis Research and Therapy, an international online journal, found in 2008 that there was a direct correlation between rheumatic ailments and colder environments with high pollution levels, such as Beijing.

Stories of qigong spearheading miraculous medical recoveries abound within the practice and among TCM purists, who insist Western medicine only tackles side effects and not the root of the problem.

"In general, Western medicine is better at helping diagnose problems within the body. But qigong and other forms of TCM work on the principle of health as a whole, where lifestyle and thinking positively lead ailments to be cured naturally," Liu said. "In the West, an ailment is diagnosed and appropriate medicine is prescribed with no real emphasis on overhauling a patient's attitude or lifestyle."

Timothy Mak, an entrepreneur aged in his late 20s, frequents Liu's clinic, albeit just for foot massages. Born to parents from Hong Kong and raised in Canada, Mak said he grew up with "Western values" in terms of medicine and science.

 "I don't really buy into the whole TCM thing too much," he told Metro Beijing.

"I'm not knocking qigong or tai chi. Qigong doesn't really make sense to me because it's so hard to define. But then again, I don't suffer from anything that would turn me to it."

Liu admits few patients come to him with chronic arthritis in full knowledge of their disease. Most turn to qigong seeking a pain-free future, but to embrace the positive thinking required by the ancient Taoist art in itself demands a leap of faith.

"Qigong is for everyone," Liu said enthusiastically. "Regardless of nationality, if you can keep fit life will be fine. But one must first believe in [qigong] before one can benefit from it."