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

The old manager of the Su family's diabetes improved day by day with treatment. But before Su Qing could completely relax, a terrible incident occurred at Jichuntang.

Early that morning, just as Yang Hu opened the door of his clinic, he saw Su Qing's sedan chair hastily pulled up at the alley entrance. She alighted from the chair, her face deathly pale, the composure she had displayed when she brought the old shopkeeper there that day completely gone. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were red-rimmed, clearly indicating that she hadn't slept a wink all night.

"Dr. Yang, please save my family!" She practically rushed in.

Yang Hu's heart sank: "What happened?"

Su Qing's voice trembled. It turned out that three days ago, a merchant from out of town had purchased a prescription from Jichuntang. It was a perfectly ordinary formula for regulating the spleen and stomach, mild and gentle. But after returning to the inn and taking it for only two days, the merchant suddenly died, bleeding from all seven orifices.

"That prescription was made by me personally." Su Qing's fingertips dug into her palm. "I weighed and verified every single ingredient; there couldn't be any mistake. But the person died after taking our medicine. Jichuntang can't shake off this stigma."

The deceased's family, a group of fierce-looking men, carried the body early this morning and blocked the entrance of Jichuntang. Some cried, some cursed, and they rolled on the ground, insisting that Jichuntang had sold fake medicine and poison, causing the death. They demanded that Jichuntang pay with their lives and money, and even shouted that they would take the case to the government office.

When Yang Hu followed Su Qing to Jichuntang, the entrance was already packed with people.

The body lay in the middle of the street, covered with a white sheet, with only one hand exposed, a bluish-black color. Among the deceased's relatives, a bearded man, standing with his hands on his hips, was shouting and cursing, spitting as he did so, causing a stir among the onlookers.

Several women, seemingly women, threw themselves on the corpse, wailing inconsolably, their cries of "Give me back my life!" echoing throughout the street. But Yang Hu watched coldly; though their cries were loud, their eyes were dry, the signs of their acting impossible to hide from his eyes, which were accustomed to seeing life and death.

Old Master Su was surrounded by several men, being pushed and shoved, and cursed at. His fine silk robe was torn askew. A man who had run a pharmacy for thirty years and was considered a prominent figure in the city, he now resembled a scolded child, unable to even speak coherently. Seeing Yang Hu arrive, he was like a drowning man seeing shore, repeatedly calling out, "Divine Doctor, Divine Doctor, you've finally come!" as he scrambled and crawled over.

Beneath the thirty-year-old golden signboard of Jichuntang, Boss Su's face was ashen. His usual shrewdness and shrewdness had vanished, and he could only repeat, "This medicine was dispensed exactly according to the prescription, not a single ingredient was missing. How could... how could someone die..."

The more he tried to explain, the more fiercely the man cursed, and the more skeptical the onlookers became. Among the crowd were a few people who, enjoying the spectacle, added fuel to the fire with sarcastic remarks. Yang Hu immediately recognized several faces among them—they were fellow pharmaceutical merchants who had previously competed with Jichuntang for business and had been outmaneuvered by the Su family. Now, they finally had a chance to kick him while he was down.

"Divine doctor, please be the judge." Su Qing pulled Yang Hu aside and took out the original prescription from her sleeve. "Look at this prescription, it's all mild medicine for strengthening the spleen and stomach, without a trace of its potent nature. Let alone killing someone, even if someone takes ten doses, it won't harm their health. I've looked at it again and again, and I really can't figure out how he died."

Yang Hu took the prescription and read it carefully.

Atractylodes macrocephala, Poria cocos, Citrus reticulata peel, Glycyrrhiza uralensis, and Dioscorea opposita—each ingredient is a common herb for strengthening the spleen and stomach. The combination is well-balanced, and the dosage is just right. It's clear that the person who prepared this prescription is a conscientious and knowledgeable individual.

Su Qing is right. This prescription is as mild as it gets. It's unlikely to kill anyone, let alone give someone a couple of bouts of diarrhea.

But the deceased clearly died with blood flowing from all seven orifices.

Yang Hu's brows furrowed deeper and deeper. Blood flowing from all seven orifices, fingers turning bluish-black—this was hardly the appearance of someone with an upset stomach. It was clearly the sign of death from deadly poisoning. Yet, this prescription from Jichuntang contained not a single potent ingredient; where could the poison have come from?

A mild prescription, a poisoned corpse. The two together create an inexplicably strange atmosphere.

"Miss Su," Yang Hu lowered his voice, "you are a person who understands medicine. Tell me yourself, could the prescription you wrote really cause someone to bleed from all seven orifices?"

Su Qing bit her lip and slowly shook her head: "No. It's precisely because I can't understand this part that I panicked and lost my composure. In my twenty years of life, I've never seen the poison take effect like that."

"That's it then." Yang Hu's eyes darkened. "Those who die from illness or poisoning have different ways of dying; there's no faking it. His way of dying doesn't match your medicine."

He paused, then asked, "Has your Jichun Hall offended anyone recently?"

Su Qing paused for a moment, thought carefully, and shook her head: "It's not that we've offended anyone. In the past two years, Jichuntang's business has been getting better and better. We've taken over most of the medicinal herb business in the city. Of course, there are many who are envious and jealous. But as for who would be so ruthless and have such means to deliberately take our lives, I... I really can't think of anyone."

She couldn't say it, but Yang Hu silently kept those words in mind. A business that grows too big and cuts off others' livelihoods is the root of disaster. Someone who can single-handedly build such a large operation in the city is no ordinary, envious small-time medicine merchant. Behind it all lies a hand he can't yet see.

He recalled the trail he had been secretly investigating these past few days—the trail that transported military rations cartload by cart to the border. There were never just one shady business in the city. Whether the trouble at Jichuntang was merely a solitary commercial squabble, or just another loose thread slipping through the net of a larger scheme, he couldn't tell for the moment. But once the thought arose, it settled deep within his heart, refusing to leave.

"This man needs to be examined," Yang Hu said in a deep voice. "We'll know what he died from once we examine his body. There's nothing lethal in Jichuntang's medicine, so this poison must have come from somewhere else."

As if grasping at a straw, Boss Su nodded hastily and asked someone to invite a coroner.

Unexpectedly, the deceased's family changed their attitude abruptly upon hearing that an autopsy was required. The bearded man stubbornly refused, shouting, "The dead are the most important; we cannot allow you to desecrate the corpse any longer!" He demanded that Jichuntang either pay compensation or take the body to the authorities.

Yang Hu coldly observed the man.

When someone dies, one should be eager to get to the bottom of the matter and find the real culprit. But this group of people are in a hurry to settle things and bury the body, and they just won't allow an examination of the corpse.

The man's voice grew louder and louder, and the women acting out the scene wailed even more shrilly, as if Jichuntang would be condemned to death if it didn't. The onlookers, caught up in the spectacle, buzzed with discussion and began to accuse Jichuntang again.

Yang Hu remained unmoved. The more he made a big show of things and the more eager he was to make sure the matter was settled, the more cowardly he appeared.

The more they refuse to allow testing, the more suspicious it is.

Yang Hu's mind gradually cleared. This wasn't some case of selling fake medicine and causing death. It was clearly a trap that had been laid long ago, just waiting for Jichuntang to walk right into it. And right now, he was probably the only one who could see through the trap and pull Jichuntang out of it.