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

In the first round, which tested diagnostic skills, Yang Hu won. In this second round, Song Yitie will be competing on truly life-threatening and intractable illnesses, seeing whose prescription is more likely to save a life. This round is a true test of skill. Whether the prescription can pull a person back from the brink of death will be immediately apparent; there is no room for deception.

The old doctor in charge cleared his throat and was about to call for the second patient to be brought in when a commotion suddenly broke out outside the clinic.

A family, wailing and crying, rushed in carrying a door panel. Lying on the door panel was a man in his thirties, who was already unconscious.

Everyone in the room crowded around to take a closer look and gasped in shock.

The man was frighteningly yellow all over. His face was yellow, the whites of his eyes were yellow, and even his exposed hands were yellow as if they had been coated with gold. He had a high fever and was uttering incoherent babbling; he was unconscious.

"Please, all you miracle doctors, save my husband!" The man's wife knelt on the ground with a thud. "His jaundice has been flaring up for three days, getting worse every day. He woke up like this this morning, and all the doctors in the city say... they all say there's no cure!"

The old doctor presiding over the competition frowned. The patient's jaundice was so severe, and he was also suffering from a high fever and delirium; he was clearly in critical condition with a slim chance of survival. Having such a patient in the competition saved them the trouble of finding another case—whether or not they could be cured was a living test right before their eyes.

"Gentlemen, let's use this person as the subject."

Song Yitie stepped forward first, took the man's pulse, and examined his eyes and tongue, pondering for a long time.

"This is a case of jaundice due to damp-heat," he said, stroking his beard. "The damp-heat causes bile to overflow, resulting in jaundice. It should be treated by clearing damp-heat and promoting bile secretion to reduce jaundice. I will now prescribe a remedy."

His diagnosis was perfectly sound and consistent, exactly the proper approach to treating jaundice found in medical books. The several elderly doctors watching also nodded slightly.

It was Yang Hu's turn.

He stepped forward and took the man's pulse. The pulse was strong and rapid, but it already felt somewhat weak and restless. He then examined the man's tongue—the tongue body was a deep crimson, and the tongue coating was a dry, yellowish yellow. Looking at his eyes and smelling his breath, he noticed that the man exuded a foul, putrid odor.

Yang Hu's brows suddenly furrowed.

"Old Master Song diagnosed it as damp-heat jaundice, which is common jaundice." He straightened up and said in a deep voice, "But this patient's jaundice is not common. His jaundice came on suddenly and fiercely, spreading all over his body in three days, accompanied by high fever and delirium—this is plague toxin. It is the heat toxin of the plague, which has reached its extreme, burning into the blood and attacking the pericardium. In ancient books, this is called acute jaundice or plague jaundice, the most dangerous type of jaundice, which ordinary methods of clearing damp-heat cannot suppress."

The room fell silent.

"Using only a formula to clear heat and dampness," Yang Hu said, emphasizing each word, "is too slow-acting and can't keep up with the speed at which this toxic fire is attacking his heart. By the time that mild medicine takes effect, the toxic fire will have already burned him to death. This illness requires a large dose of strong medicine to clear heat, detoxify, cool the blood, and open the orifices, to forcefully pour down the toxic fire that has burned into his blood, to save his life first, and then talk about reducing jaundice."

Song Yitie's expression darkened. In his fifty years of medical practice, he had naturally heard of acute jaundice, but such a dangerous condition was extremely rare, and he hadn't had time to examine it closely. Now, after Yang Hu's explanation, and seeing the man's scaly tongue and the foul, putrid smell, his heart skipped a beat. In his fifty years of medical practice, his diagnostic approach emphasized "stability," and he strongly disliked bluffing or using harsh medications. But this dangerous condition was precisely one that his "stability" approach couldn't handle.

"The patient can't wait any longer." Yang Hu said no more, quickly wrote down a prescription, and took out a few silver needles. "Mr. Song, this is a matter of life and death. I dare to administer acupuncture first to save lives."

Seeing that the man was barely breathing, Song Yitie, being a doctor, suppressed his competitive spirit and said in a deep voice, "Saving lives is the priority. You do it."

Yang Hu immediately began acupuncture, first pricking the philtrum and ten acupoints to release blood and expel the upward-attacking poisonous fire. He then ordered someone to prepare a strong dose of medicine for clearing heat, detoxifying, cooling the blood, and opening the orifices according to his prescription, and had it forced down the throat. The medicine was extremely bitter and strong, and the man nearly choked as it was poured down his throat. Yang Hu, however, stood by calmly, showing no sign of panic, focusing intently on the man's breath and pulse, observing inch by inch.

The entire room held its breath. The man's wife buried her head on the ground, her shoulders trembling like a leaf.

One incense stick, two incense sticks...

The burning heat in his body gradually subsided. His incoherent babbling also subsided. After another half hour, the man slowly woke up with a "hoarse" sound from his throat, his cloudy eyes opening a slit in confusion.

"He's alive! He's alive!"

The woman rushed to the door and burst into tears. As she cried, she kowtowed repeatedly to Yang Hu, her forehead bleeding from the blows, while she kept repeating the words "Living Bodhisattva." The entire audience was initially deathly silent, but then erupted into thunderous cheers.

Song Yitie stood aside, staring blankly at the prescription that had already been written but had not yet been handed out. He then looked at Yang Hu's back as he performed acupuncture and medicine with effortless ease. His old face was filled with a complex expression.

His fifty years of steady work were defeated by this young man's accuracy. He was right to diagnose the yellowing due to damp heat, but his mistake was that he failed to see the deadly plague hidden beneath.

"This time," Song Yitie sighed deeply after a long silence, all traces of his previous defiance vanished, replaced by a deep solemnity, "I have lost again. The Yellow Plague Poison is the most dangerous of all. I only saw the yellow, but not the poison beneath it. It is my fault for not being skilled enough."

Yang Hu quickly turned around and returned the greeting: "Sir, you flatter me. This acute jaundice is extremely rare, one in ten thousand. Anyone would have difficulty recognizing it at first glance. This patient is destined to survive."

Song Yitie waved his hand, his old eyes fixed on Yang Hu for a long time before suddenly asking, "I only want to know, where did you learn your skills in identifying poisons and diagnosing illnesses?"

This question stirred something within Yang Hu. It was precisely the secret to his abilities that he could not reveal to outsiders. Yet, he remained impassive, simply saying, "In my early years, I wandered the world and encountered several extraordinary individuals. I also witnessed some rare and difficult diseases that ordinary doctors would never see in their entire lives. That's how I was fortunate enough to acquire some knowledge."

Song Yitie gave him a deep look, seemingly believing him but not quite, but did not ask any further questions.

Yang Hu won both matches. Although the old doctor's arrogance was broken, his desire to prove himself had not completely disappeared. He paused for a moment, then straightened his back again.

"You've won in diagnosis and prescription," Song Yitie's voice regained its composure. "But the path of medicine isn't just about curing diseases. There's a final round."

His words caused another stir in the hall. The old man and the young man had already been decided in the first two rounds, but in this final round, Song Yitie still refused to concede defeat and wanted to fight again. Whether this was the old doctor's unwillingness to accept defeat, or if he had some other trump card, no one could guess.

All eyes in the room turned to the old doctor once again.

On the outermost edge of the crowded throng, a gaze that remained silent, not belonging to the onlookers, was fixed on Yang Hu, piercing through the throng of heads.