In times of chaos and famine, I traded one pound of rice for two royal flushes.

Qin Shaolang ignored them and walked straight to the man who had a severe thigh injury and was already in a semi-conscious state.

He crouched down and reached out to tear open the blood-soaked strip of cloth.

"hiss--"

Everyone around gasped.

The wound was more horrific than they had imagined; it was mixed with mud and grass clippings, and the surrounding flesh had begun to turn black.

"It's hopeless... Zhang San's leg is ruined," someone whispered.

"He's not just crippled, he's not even going to survive."

Qin Shaolang's fingers gently pressed around the wound.

He felt the temperature and swelling under his skin.

The infection has already begun.

If the wound isn't cleaned and sutured immediately, bacteria will quickly enter the bloodstream, causing sepsis. At that point, even a miracle worker couldn't save the patient.

"Su Tang!" Qin Shaolang called out without turning his head.

"Yes, yes, sir!"

Su Tang had followed along at some point. Seeing the bloody scene, her face turned pale with fright, but she still mustered her courage and responded.

"Go boil water, lots of boiling water, keep boiling, don't stop." Qin Shaolang's tone left no room for argument.

"Okay, okay!" Su Tang immediately turned around and ran towards the stove.

"Su Jin," Qin Shaolang called out again.

"I'm here." Su Jin immediately stepped forward.

"Find the finest sewing needle and the strongest silk thread. Once you find them, throw them, along with the needle, into boiling water."

"A sewing needle? Silk thread?" Su Jin was stunned.

Everyone around was stunned.

What are they trying to do? Are they going to sew human flesh together like they're sewing clothes?

This is simply unheard of!

"Sir, this...is this really going to work?" an elderly woman asked in a trembling voice. "Won't stitching up the flesh with a needle hurt even more?"

"If you don't want him to die, do as I say."

Qin Shaolang's voice was cold and devoid of any emotion.

His gaze swept over the crowd, and the invisible pressure he exerted silenced all dissenting voices.

Without further hesitation, Su Jin immediately turned around and went into the crowd to look for needles and thread.

"Zhao Wu!"

"Sir, I'm here!" Zhao Wu, who was directing everyone to process the pork, immediately ran over upon hearing the call.

"Bring out the good wine you've been hiding," Qin Shaolang said calmly.

Zhao Wu's face immediately fell, and he muttered somewhat reluctantly, "Sir, those were what I was saving for winter..."

That was the strong liquor he had secretly traded with a passing merchant using his own stored grain; he treasured it dearly.

"Use it to save lives."

Qin Shaolang only said four words.

Zhao Wu hesitated for a moment, but when he saw Zhang San's bloody leg on the ground, he gritted his teeth, turned around and ran back to his wooden house.

Soon, he came running back carrying a dark, grimy earthenware pot.

"Sir, here you go!"

Qin Shao-Lang took the earthenware jar, pulled out the cork, and a strong aroma of alcohol instantly filled the air.

He brought the earthenware pot to his nose and smelled it.

The prescription isn't high, probably only around 30 degrees, but it's better than nothing.

At this moment, Su Jin returned with the boiled needles and thread, carrying them on a clean leaf. Su Tang and several other women carefully placed a pot of boiling water beside them.

Everything is ready.

Everyone held their breath and stared at Qin Shaolang.

They wanted to see how this omnipotent man would create miracles.

"You guys, hold him down!" Qin Shaolang pointed to several strong men beside him.

The men immediately stepped forward and hurriedly pressed down on the injured man's shoulder and other leg.

Next, under everyone's horrified gaze, Qin Shao--Lang made a move that they would never forget.

He raised the wine jar and poured the pungent liquor directly onto Zhang San's deep, bone-revealing wound!

"ah--!!!"

A piercing scream, inhuman in its shrill form, suddenly burst from the unconscious Zhang San's mouth, and his whole body jerked violently like a fish thrown into a pot of boiling oil!

The men holding him down almost managed to break free.

"Hold it tight!" Qin Shaolang shouted.

The surrounding family members were terrified, and one woman screamed, "Murder! The man is trying to marinate him alive with alcohol!"

"Shut up!" Su Jin whirled around, her voice cold and sharp. "Keep arguing if you don't want him to live!"

Although she didn't understand why Qin Shao-lang did this, she chose to trust him unconditionally. This man never did anything he wasn't sure of.

The woman was intimidated by Su Jin's imposing presence and immediately dared not utter another sound.

The strong liquor washed over the wound, carrying away the mud and bits of grass.

In modern medicine, this is the most basic wound disinfection. But in the eyes of the ancients at that time, it was nothing short of the cruelest torture.

The screams lasted for more than ten breaths before gradually subsiding.

The wounded Zhang San fainted again, but this time, the pain on his face seemed to ease a little.

Qin Shaolang put down the wine jar and repeatedly rinsed the wound with boiling water until the entire wound was clean and free of any impurities.

Then, he picked up the thin needle, which had also been sterilized with strong liquor, threaded it with silk, and heated it over the fire.

He sat down next to the wounded soldier, pinched the skin and flesh on one side of the wound with his left hand, and steadily inserted the needle into the wound with his right hand.

Everyone's eyes widened.

They saw the cold needle pierce through the flesh, pulling the thread back and forth on both sides of the wound.

Qin Shao-Lang's hand was as steady as a rock.

His movements were slow, but each one was incredibly precise. He tied a knot, gathered the thread, and cut it—all in one fluid motion.

The wound that was originally hideous and terrifying, with flesh turned outwards, was gradually closed up under his hands, just like a zipper being pulled up.

Finally, it turned into a neat, slightly strange "centipede".

Throughout the entire process, you could hear a pin drop in the valley.

People forgot the noise, forgot the barbecue, and even forgot to breathe.

Their minds went blank.

So it turns out... human skin really can be sewn up like cloth.

So this is how medical skills can be achieved.

This is not medical skill.

This is a miracle!

When Qin Shaolang tied the last knot and cut the thread, he let out a long sigh of relief.

He took out a small oil paper packet from his pocket, opened it, and evenly sprinkled the black powder inside onto the stitched wound. Finally, he re-bandaged it with clean linen.

"Alright." He stood up. "Find a quiet place for him to lie down, and don't let anyone touch his injured leg. Change the dressing once a day, and I'll come back to remove the stitches in seven days."

After saying that, he walked toward the next wounded soldier.

The crowd automatically parted to make way for him.

Every face was filled with awe.

If leading them to hunt wild boars previously demonstrated Qin Shao-Lang's wisdom and bravery...

Now, this unprecedented, almost miraculous medical skill has completely elevated him to a god-like status.

In the hearts of these refugees struggling to survive, Qin Shaolang was no different from a god.