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

As his reputation as a doctor grew day by day, the small courtyard of Jichuntang could no longer contain him.

People seeking his medical help lined up from before dawn until dark, and more and more came from neighboring counties and villages, drawn by his reputation. Even working from morning till night, Yang Hu couldn't possibly see everyone. More importantly, the procurement and processing of medicinal herbs still relied on the few pharmacies in the city. Having survived the ordeal of running out of medicine, he knew better than anyone how dangerous it was to have one's life in someone else's hands.

So he made up his mind to truly establish this business. No longer would he rely on someone else's name, rent someone else's shop, or be at the mercy of others; he wanted to have a real, rooted business of his own.

This is the first time he has the confidence to "make a living" since he came to this world from scratch and built his business step by step.

With the money he had saved from consultations over the years, plus the credit and connections the Zhou family had used, Yang Hu took over the old Jishetang clinic in the west of the city. Kong Langzhong had once mocked him at a banquet, saying he was "lucky enough to cure a few patients." Now, the old doctor was getting on in years, and the clinic's doors were getting colder year by year, so he simply sold the shop and its signboard together. Yang Hu didn't change the signboard; he just had the three old characters repainted in gold and hung it up again as "Jishetang." He then moved the shop to this place with a large mansion in the east of the city.

The three main rooms at the front were combined to form a spacious clinic, complete with benches for waiting patients, medicine cabinets for dispensing medicine, and tables for taking pulses, so that patients no longer had to crowd at the alley entrance exposed to the wind and sun. A medicine-making workshop was set up in the backyard, equipped with a medicine grinder, mortar and pestle, bamboo trays for drying medicine, and copper pots for boiling ointments, so that they could make their own pills, powders, ointments, and elixirs. The medicinal garden outside the city was also expanded to twice its original size, and a dozen or so widows and orphans of soldiers who died in battle were hired to tend to it.

These people were originally the most destitute group in this border town. The men had died in battle at the pass, and the orphans and widows had no one to rely on. They either begged on the streets or sold their children. Yang Hu gave them a meal and a job, and they treated the medicinal herb garden as their own lifeline, tending to it with more care than anyone else. When the neighbors talked about Jishetang, in addition to the title of "miracle doctor," they also gained the title of "benevolent person."

The clinic, the pharmaceutical workshop, and the medicinal herb garden were all interconnected. From planting and harvesting herbs to processing and operating the clinic, every step was under their control.

That medicine workshop was also a personal project for Yang Hu. He taught Lu Yan the processing and formulation techniques he had learned in his previous life, turning ordinary herbs into pills, powders, ointments, and elixirs with more stable effects and greater portability. These things were currently saving time for Jishetang, but in his heart, he had another plan: what the army needed most during marches and battles was this kind of readily available, easily portable medicine. This skill would come in very handy sooner or later.

From now on, he will no longer have to be mindful of the attitudes of those pharmacies, and the kind of choking that happens when he is cut off from his medication will be much less likely to happen to him.

"Young master, now we can truly say we've settled down in this city." Lu Rou held the newly established account book, her eyes shining. In recent days, she had managed the accounts of the clinic and the herb garden in an orderly manner, and had become the head of this business.

On the opening day of Jishetang, half the town came to offer their congratulations. The Zhou family sent generous gifts, and wealthy families they had previously befriended and neighbors they had helped came in droves. A young itinerant doctor in his early twenties, who just six months ago was carrying a medicine box and going from village to village, had now established a medical clinic in this border town that even the officials had to give him some face. Even Yang Hu himself felt somewhat dazed when he looked back on this turn of events.

"Hmm." He looked at the newly hung plaque, but felt no sense of pride or satisfaction. "The deeper the roots, the more stable they need to be. The waters in this city may look calm, but the hand beneath hasn't moved yet."

Lizhuang's establishment, seemingly a successful medical endeavor, held a deeper purpose for Yang Hu: his medical reputation, businesses, and manpower were all assets for future infiltration of the military camp and investigation of the hidden network. The greater his reputation, the more legitimate his request would be when the army sought him out; the more stable his businesses, the more secure his home would be when he left the city for the border; and the readily available medicines in his pharmacy were a trump card for emergency medical care in the army. The deeper his roots were in this city, the more confident he would be when he ventured north.

After Jishetang was established, everyone in the courtyard had more important things to do. Lu Yan was in charge of purchasing and processing medicinal herbs, managing the pharmacy with great efficiency; Lu Rou managed the accounts and the business; Su Qing shared the clinical work in the clinic, specializing in spleen and stomach ailments and women's diseases; Liu Ye managed the guards and also handled the transport jobs in and out of the city and the medicinal garden. Jishetang was managed flawlessly by these women.

What relieved Yang Hu the most was that Qin Ying's arrow wound had finally healed completely.

The wound that had nearly cost her her life and led her to meet herself was now just a faint scar. On the night she changed her dressing for the last time, Qin Ying moved her shoulders and arms a few times, displaying the nimble movements of a seasoned general, now completely free of any stiffness.

"It's healed." She looked at her arm and said softly, her expression somewhat complicated. "The injury is healed... but I, this 'dead person,' still can't go back to that camp."

"Not being able to return to the army camp doesn't mean I can't save that pass," Yang Hu said. "Look, Jishetang has been established. I have a medical reputation, businesses, and people. The network to investigate that connection is being woven little by little. When the time comes, I have my own way to take you and root out that hand. At that time, your grievances and the lives of your brothers will be avenged, one by one."

Qin Ying looked up at him, and her usually sharp eyes softened slightly under the lamplight.

"I believe you," she said.

In the past six months, Qin Ying has transformed from a "dead person" hunted by barbarians, suffering from a high fever and coma, and left to die in a dilapidated courtyard, into someone who can now manage half of Yang Hu's household and investigate that lead side by side. She has long regarded this courtyard as her second home. She can't go back to the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion, nor can she go back to that military camp, but here, there is Yang Hu, her sisters Lu Yan, Lu Rou, and Liu Ye, a place she can't openly express but truly belongs to. This regained sense of security is more precious to her than any military merit she earned in her previous life in a military family.

As night deepens, the lights of Jishetang have become the most stable and brightest lamp in this border town.

And that hand lurking in the shadows, that line leading to the border, that camp lacking medicine and medical supplies, where he had people to investigate and people to save, were all still quietly waiting in the northern night.

Yang Hu knew that he had made steady progress on this leg of his journey through the city.

From a lone itinerant doctor navigating unfamiliar territory to protecting villages, repelling barbarians, entering the city, treating important figures, establishing his reputation, every brick and tile, every doctor and name in this border town was earned step by step by him. Having established himself, gained fame, and built his own town, today, no one in this town can easily shake his position, and no one dares to underestimate the young doctor who was once ridiculed as "a greenhorn."

But the road ahead for him goes far beyond this.

The gate of that military camp, the root of that thread, and that colossal scheme to clear his name through treason—all awaited him ahead.

He had already prepared his knife and mustered all his strength, waiting only for the summons.

A night breeze swept through the hall, causing the lamplight to flicker slightly. He looked up at the deep darkness to the north. That pass, that camp, that line, that hand, and Qin Ying's brothers whom he couldn't let go of, and the injustice he couldn't clear his name, were all waiting there.

He won this round in the city with a clean sweep. But in his heart, this was only the beginning. The real battle, the one that involved the nation, the loyal and the treacherous, and weighed down by countless lives, was only just beginning.