A divine healer, a general, a young marquis! Who can rival them!

Ever since he cured the Qin family in the south of the city of their vomiting blood and publicly exposed the wicked scheme of the Golden Physician to frame them, the reputation of the divine physician in the east of the city has become increasingly renowned. People from all walks of life have come to visit him in an endless stream.

On this day, a clerk surnamed Tian from the prefecture came to visit. Clerk Tian worked in the prefectural governor's office, handling clerical tasks on a daily basis; he was a respected figure. His visit, however, was not for himself, but for his only son.

"Dr. Yang, please save my child!" The clerk, Tian, ​​entered the room with tears in his eyes, his usual official air completely gone. "My son is eight years old this year. A year ago, he contracted a strange illness. Every few days, he would suddenly roll his eyes back, fall to the ground, convulse, foam at the mouth, and clench his teeth tightly. It would take about an hour for him to recover. We've seen all the doctors in the city. Some said he was possessed by an evil spirit, others said it was divine retribution for his ancestors' bad deeds. We even hired a shaman to perform exorcisms, but the illness... not only didn't get better, it got worse month by month."

Yang Hu's heart skipped a beat. He recognized the symptoms immediately upon hearing them. He picked up his medicine box and followed the registrar, Tian.

Upon arriving at the Tian residence, they found the child falling ill. The eight-year-old boy lay stiffly on the bed, his eyes rolled back, his limbs convulsing, making hoarse sounds, and white foam dripping from his mouth—a truly frightening sight. Several doctors gathered around the bed, along with a sorceress dressed in shamanic robes, were all helpless. The sorceress was ringing a bell and chanting incantations, saying that the child was possessed by an evil spirit and that a grand ritual had to be performed.

"A young man in his early twenties dares to treat this epilepsy?" An old doctor glanced at Yang Hu. "This is a congenital ailment that even a god cannot cure. Don't waste the time that Registrar Tian is trying to find a sorcerer."

Yang Hu ignored him, stepped forward, pinched the child's philtrum, and then took out a silver needle, quickly inserting it into several acupoints. The child, who had been convulsing violently, gradually calmed down, and the phlegm in his throat lessened.

Everyone in the room stared in disbelief. The old doctor, who had previously asserted that "even a god couldn't cure it," gaped, speechless for a long time; the sorceress who had been ringing her bell also froze in mid-air. A young man in his early twenties, with just a few needles, had brought this strange illness, which had plagued him for a year and which even rituals couldn't suppress, to a complete halt.

After the child had recovered, Yang Hu carefully examined his pulse and tongue. He then asked Registrar Tian: Was there any fright before the child fell ill? Is he usually prone to phlegm, has a quick temper, or sleeps restlessly at night?

Tian, ​​the registrar, agreed to everything, saying that the child had been frightened by a dog a year ago and had developed this ailment ever since, and that he did indeed have a lot of phlegm on a daily basis.

Yang Hu then made up his mind.

This is not some kind of possession or divine retribution. The child was frightened, causing a temporary disruption of his liver qi, which triggered a long-accumulated phlegm-fire within him. This phlegm-fire, mixed with liver wind, surged upwards, obscuring his senses, causing his eyes to roll back, his limbs to convulse, and him to foam at the mouth. Ancient texts call this epilepsy, colloquially it's called "sheep epilepsy," and its root cause is phlegm, fire, and wind; it has absolutely nothing to do with any unclean things. By clearing away the phlegm, calming the surging liver wind, and clearing the fire disturbing his mind, and then slowly nourishing him with medicine, the illness can be stabilized.

"Registration Officer Tian, ​​your son's illness has been cured." Yang Hu turned around and said, word by word, "This is not possession by evil spirits. It was caused by fright, which caused phlegm and fire mixed with liver wind to cloud the mind. Once the phlegm is cleared and the wind is extinguished, the illness will naturally be cured. Those shamanistic rituals and exorcisms are completely useless."

Upon hearing this, the sorceress became anxious: "You young man, talking nonsense! This is clearly a case of the child being possessed by an evil spirit. Using medicine like this will only harm the child!"

"Dirty thing?" Yang Hu glanced at her indifferently. "You've been ringing this bell for a year, has the child's illness improved even a little? The more you pretend to be a ghost, the more you delay proper treatment. Whether you're trying to exorcise evil spirits and cure the illness, or using the child's illness to make money, Registrar Tian knows the answer."

The sorceress was refuted until her face turned red. Seeing that the clerk's face darkened, she knew that she would not get away with it if she stayed any longer. She reluctantly put away the bell and left with her tail between her legs.

Most of the people in the Tian household who had previously believed the sorceress's nonsense now saw her refuted so easily by a young doctor, and their fear dissipated considerably. Tian, ​​the registrar, felt both ashamed and remorseful, regretting that he had acted rashly in his desperation, almost allowing those charlatans to cure his child's illness.

Yang Hu immediately prescribed a formula, using some medicines to clear phlegm, extinguish wind, clear heat, and calm epilepsy. He also taught Clerk Tian how to pinch acupoints and how to prevent the child from biting his tongue when he had an attack. Clerk Tian was a meticulous person and remembered everything. He then ordered people to prepare the medicine and take good care of the child according to Yang Hu's prescription every day.

The treatment lasted for over a month. The child's attacks became less frequent with each passing day, and eventually, he didn't have a single relapse for a whole month. His previously pale face gradually regained its rosy hue. The child's mother, holding her son whom she had lost and found again, kowtowed three times to Yang Hu, weeping uncontrollably. Registrar Tian prepared lavish gifts and personally inscribed a plaque reading "Medical Skill Reaches Divine Power" on the lintel of Yang's shop, sending it over with great fanfare, attracting a crowd of onlookers.

Registrar Tian was overjoyed and thanked Yang Hu profusely. News of this incident spread, and families in the city who had previously believed epilepsy was incurable flocked to the east side of the city if they had such a ailment. The reputation of the east-side healer for curing possession-related illnesses spread even further. Those families who had previously been deceived by sorcerers and shamans, spending their entire fortunes on rituals, finally understood: the seemingly deadly "divine punishment" was actually a curable disease. Suddenly, many more sorrowful faces, holding children and clinging to hope, appeared in front of Yang's shop in the east of the city.

More importantly, through this medical connection, Yang Hu also made a connection with the people in the prefectural magistrate's mansion.

Nighttime, in the backyard. Lu Yan refilled Yang Hu's tea, lost in thought: "This Registrar Tian is from the Prefectural Magistrate's office."

"I know." Yang Hu held his teacup, his gaze slightly somber. "Treating illnesses is one thing, but I know who's connected to the Prefectural Magistrate's Office. Using the pretext of treating patients, I can gain an extra pair of eyes and ears in that office. This might come in handy later when investigating that hidden line. The Prefectural Magistrate's Office is a crucial link in that hidden line that Qin Ying mentioned. That military report that described her as 'fighting to the death for her country,' that batch of military rations and weapons that quietly leaked out of the pass—every single one of these things has the shadow of that office behind it. Being able to plant even a tiny bit of informant in that office would be a huge help in uncovering that murky water later. But we have to be careful—we should be building a good relationship through treating patients, not climbing up a high branch."

Qin Ying tidied the worn-out dagger under the lamplight, saying nothing, but a hint of understanding flickered in her lowered eyes. The connections throughout the city were being drawn one by one into Yang Hu's hands. And that most crucial, most dangerous thread was quietly extending through these seemingly ordinary medical connections, reaching the military camp and those hidden hands in the shadows.