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

Song Yitie said he wanted to have a final competition, but he didn't explain what it was about. He only said that he would have to think about it for one night and they would decide the winner the next day.

That concludes today's competition.

News of Yang Hu's two consecutive victories spread like wildfire throughout the city in half a day. After this battle, the reputation of the "Divine Physician of the East City" was firmly established in the city, without a trace of exaggeration. Those who had previously been observing and weighing his abilities now abandoned their doubts and vied to befriend him. The group of literati led by Old Master Yan prepared even thicker letters of invitation; several large merchants offered exorbitant promises of benefits for jointly opening a pharmacy. In no time, the threshold of Yang's pharmacy in the East City was practically worn down by the constant stream of visitors.

The more lively and bustling the scene, the more tense Yang Hu became.

As he left the clinic, his discreet eyes swept across the crowd and spotted someone who shouldn't be there.

The soldier surnamed Zhou who delivered the message was also present.

The man mingled among the onlookers, not approaching, but watching him from afar with a half-smile. When their eyes met, he didn't flinch, but instead nodded slightly, revealing a meaningful smile. That smile contained no trace of the ease of watching a spectacle; rather, it was like a hunter sizing up prey, or a chess player examining a chess piece.

Yang Hu's heart sank.

These soldiers shouldn't have been interested in a medical dispute in the marketplace. But he came specifically to make sure he saw it—he wasn't there to watch the spectacle, but to investigate. He wanted to see for himself just how skilled this young doctor, chosen to treat the "general," really was, and what kind of person he truly was.

Back in the east of the city, the family gathered around the stove. Lu Rou was meticulously recording the newly collected consultation fees and medicinal herbs by the lamplight; Qin Ying was by the window, carefully wiping her worn-out dagger. Yang Hu recounted the events of the day in detail.

"That fellow surnamed Zhou is here today." He held his teacup, his gaze calm. "He came to watch the competition, but his real intentions are not what they seem. The more impressively I win these two matches, the more closely he'll be watching."

Lu Yan poured tea for everyone, her delicate brows furrowing slightly: "The taller the tree, the more the wind blows. This reputation as a doctor has been established, but it has also made us more conspicuously placed under the nose of that powerful figure."

Although she rarely left her house, she had a clear understanding of the prevailing sentiments in the city and the interests of all parties involved. A reputation as a doctor was a good thing, but fortune and misfortune are always intertwined; the more prominent one's reputation, the more carefully one must conceal the foundation beneath it.

"What you say is true, my lady." Yang Hu nodded slowly. "Medicine is a double-edged sword. In the light, it can protect us and keep ordinary demons and monsters away; but in the dark, it is also like a lamp, illuminating us clearly and letting the hand hidden in the darkness see everything clearly."

Just then, Liu Ye returned from outside, her brows furrowed with a serious expression. These past few days, her eyes, fixed on the grain store in the west of the city, hadn't relaxed for a moment.

"Young master, the grain shop has been behaving strangely these past two days," Liu Ye said in a low voice. "Normally, the carts that leave the city at midnight only come once every three to five days. But these past two or three days, they've been going out almost every night. I counted, and the amount of grain going out is more than three times more than usual. Judging from the way they're doing it, they're rushing and stockpiling it to send to the border." She paused, then added, "I followed the carts from a distance, and they were heading north out of the city along the same secluded path, and the same group of people were using the same methods."

They rushed to deliver grain beyond the Great Wall.

These words made everyone in the room feel a chill in their hearts.

Qin Ying sat by the window, her hand gripping the short knife tightening subtly. Having led troops before, she knew all too well the danger lurking behind it. "Supplies are the lifeblood," she said, her voice as cold as ice. "If the barbarians amass enough supplies, they'll surely launch a major attack in the spring. My soldiers at that pass will have to risk their lives to fill the hole dug by that hand."

As she spoke, a long-suppressed hatred welled up in her eyes. Those were her gatekeepers, her soldiers. Now she was a "dead woman" who couldn't see the light of day, watching helplessly as her own people were sliced ​​to pieces and fed to wolves by this hand. No one else could understand that feeling.

"This line can no longer be allowed to continue. This line can no longer be allowed to continue."

Yang Hu's gaze froze on the flickering fire in the furnace.

The probing hand within the army, the ceaseless flow of carts and horses at the grain store west of the city, the restless barbarians beyond the Great Wall—these seemingly unrelated events were gradually converging. He increasingly sensed that the person hidden deepest within was about to make a major move. And that military summons specifically requesting him to seek medical treatment, that competition that thrust him into the open, were perhaps just pawns in this grand scheme, gradually drawing him into the game.

"The clues are getting closer and closer," Yang Hu said slowly. "But the closer we get, the more we need to stay calm. We have to win the final competition tomorrow with flying colors. The eyes of the entire city are both a danger and a threat. By establishing our reputation as a doctor, we can investigate that clue and do those shady things, thus creating a thicker protective shell. This is an open strategy—putting ourselves in the spotlight so everyone can see will deter that hand from easily making a move in the open. To touch a renowned doctor who is the focus of the entire city's attention is to cause a major upheaval."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the people in the room before landing on Qin Ying.

"You're right, we can't let this thread continue to feed," he said, emphasizing each word. "Once this competition is over, we should think of a way to cut it off."

"We can't rush it," Yang Hu said slowly. "That grain store is just a small part of the story, connected to the army and the hand that holds the reins. If we rashly smash the grain store, we'll alert them, and that hand will retreat, making it even harder to find them later. We have to follow this line, inch by inch, until that hand is revealed, and then we'll pull in the net all at once."

A sharp glint suddenly flashed in Qin Ying's calm eyes. Although she wanted nothing more than to smash the grain shop with a knife right then and there, she also knew that Yang Hu's suggestion was the safest way to cut off this supply. She nodded very, very softly.

The dim lighting cast long shadows of everyone in the room onto the wall. On the surface, there was the much-discussed debate about medicine; in the shadows, a deadly line of betrayal and a hand hidden in the darkness were silently closing in.

The real key to victory in this contest never lay in the medical records of that clinic.

As night deepened, the lights in the eastern part of the city went out one by one.

Yang Hu didn't sleep. He sat alone in the main room, and by the light of a flickering candle, he went through the clues he had gathered over the past few days in his mind. The military dispatch, the man surnamed Zhou, the grain cart, the military report that read "fought bravely to the death for his country"—each and every one of them vaguely pointed to the depths of that military camp, to the person who had never shown himself.

He looked up at the deep night outside the window, his gaze gradually turning cold. He knew that his time was running out.

In the backyard of that inconspicuous grain store in the west of the city, a tarpaulin-covered cart, taking advantage of the deep darkness, silently drove out of the city gate once again, speeding towards the dark wilderness to the north.