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

The more renowned the legendary doctor from the east of the city became, the more resentful the old doctors in the city who had been practicing medicine for decades felt.

On this day, the resident doctors from several long-established pharmacies in the city came to Jishetang together. There were four or five of them, each a respected figure in the medical field with decades of experience. Leading them was Elder Sun from Xinglintang, the most senior doctor in the city's medical community. With white hair and beard, he had been practicing medicine for over fifty years. Even wealthy families like Old Master Zhou used to consult him first.

These people sat down in the hall, exuding a menacing aura, clearly having come prepared.

"Dr. Yang," the old doctor Sun said with a forced smile, bowing slightly. "You're so young, yet your medical reputation surpasses that of us old folks. Everyone in the city, young and old, says that there's no disease you can't cure. We, who have practiced medicine our whole lives, have come today to learn from you."

Yang Hu knew perfectly well that this person had come to challenge them.

Over the past six months, he has built his reputation by defying the reputations of the city's old doctors. He has brought the dying back to life, assisted those unable to urinate, and cured those who thought venereal diseases were incurable. Each and every one of these feats has been a public slap in the face to these established doctors. Now, they have banded together to reclaim their lost ground.

"Senior Sun, you flatter me." Yang Hu said neither humbly nor arrogantly. "I am also a doctor. Please feel free to present any medical records you may have."

That was exactly what Dr. Sun wanted to hear. He waved his hand, and a patient was carried in from outside.

He was a man in his fifties, half of his body was stiff and he couldn't move. One arm and one leg hung limply, his mouth was crooked, saliva was dripping down his chin, and he couldn't speak clearly. He could only make "hoarse" sounds from his throat.

"This man collapsed suddenly half a month ago, and when he woke up, he was in this state, paralyzed on one side." Old Doctor Sun stroked his beard. "I and several colleagues in the city have consulted on this case several times, using prescriptions to calm the liver, extinguish wind, resolve phlegm, and unblock the meridians. After half a month of treatment, there has been no improvement. Since Doctor Yang is a renowned physician, why don't you treat him in front of us?"

This is a dead end.

The room was filled with elderly doctors, each holding a cup of tea, watching with a half-smile, waiting to see how the young man would handle the situation. Old Doctor Sun, in particular, sat calmly, stroking his beard, looking completely confident. In their eyes, Yang Hu would either stubbornly try to cure the young man and embarrass himself if he failed, or he would simply admit he couldn't cure him and that he was incompetent. Either way, it would be enough to ruin his reputation as a "miracle doctor."

Hemiplegia, or stroke, is a notoriously difficult condition to treat. This old man suffered from an overabundance of liver yang, leading to disordered qi and blood, and phlegm and blood stasis obstructing his meridians, resulting in blocked blood vessels on one side of his body. Ordinary doctors would only use herbal decoctions to slowly regulate his condition, and it would be fortunate if he showed some improvement after three to five months. Expecting immediate results was nothing short of wishful thinking.

Old Physician Sun's move put Yang Hu in a very difficult position. If he cured him, it would be a miracle; if he couldn't, then after half a month of treatment, Yang Hu, a young man, should have no hope of recovery on the spot, and his reputation as a "miracle doctor" would be completely shattered.

The room full of old doctors looked at Yang Hu with ambiguous smiles, waiting to see him lose face.

Yang Hu remained calm. He stepped forward, first taking the old man's pulse, then examining his eyelids and tongue coating, and already had a good idea of ​​what was going on.

Traditional Chinese medicine decoctions are too slow for regulating the meridians. But he has a much faster method.

"Bring me my silver needles," he said calmly.

Lu Yan presented a needle pouch. Yang Hu took out several silver needles of varying lengths, heated them over a candle flame, and with a flick of his wrist, precisely inserted them into several acupoints on the old man's head, cheeks, arms, and legs.

This is a technique from a previous life used in acupuncture to awaken the mind, open the orifices, and unblock the meridians. The root cause of stroke-induced hemiplegia lies in the obstruction of the meridians and the lack of flow of qi and blood. The meridians on one side of the body are like blocked water channels, and even the best medicine can only slowly seep out from the outside.

Herbal medicine needs to slowly dissolve in the stomach and intestines before reaching the meridians, taking three to five months to see any slight effect; silver needles, on the other hand, are inserted directly into acupoints, following the meridian pathways to pry open and stimulate the blocked acupoints one by one, allowing the stagnant qi and blood to circulate again. The difference between these two methods, one fast and one slow, is like heaven and earth.

His hands were incredibly steady as he inserted the needles; the depth, angle, and twisting force of each needle were all precisely controlled. Qin Ying, disguised as a medicine boy, watched from the side as those hands, which had once held knives and spears, handed over the needles and heated them with perfect precision.

Everyone in the room held their breath, watching the silver needles tremble on the old man's body.

At first, the old doctor Sun observed with indifference, but as he watched, his old face gradually tightened. He had never heard of the acupuncture points and techniques used in this method, but the more he watched, the more he felt that it was in line with medical principles and extremely ingenious.

The silver needles trembled slightly on the old man's body as Yang Hu twisted them with his fingers. He would sometimes deepen the needles and sometimes gently lift them, completely focused, with fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

This acupuncture technique looks delicate, but it is actually extremely demanding on the mind. The slightest error in the acupoints can lead to disastrous consequences; too much force can cause injury, while too little is useless. It all depends on the feel honed by decades of practice in one's hands. But Yang Hu uses a method honed through countless trials in his previous life, which is more precise than any other doctor in this world.

After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Yang Hu slowly removed the needle.

"You, move that hand," he said to the old man.

The old man stared blankly at his arm, which had been dangling limply for half a month and devoid of feeling. Under everyone's gaze, the fingers of that hand moved, very slightly, one movement at a time!

"It moved! My hand moved!" The old man's mouth was still crooked, but his words were clearer, and he was so excited that tears streamed down his face. His wife, who had been waiting by his side for half a month and had been crying all the time, rushed over and hugged her husband, crying and laughing at the same time.

The room was deathly silent.

Standing at the edge of the crowd, Qin Ying quietly watched this scene. She had seen Yang Hu snatch people from the jaws of death in the street, and she had seen him save a patient from bloating with a single scallion stalk, but each time, the feeling in her heart would deepen a little more. This young man seemed to truly possess a pair of hands that could turn the rotten into the miraculous.

The old doctors who had come to challenge the clinic were all ashen-faced. They had practiced medicine their whole lives, and after half a month of consultations, they were at a loss for what could be a fatal illness, but this young man had managed to make the patient move and cry out on the spot with just a few needles.

Old Physician Sun stood up shakily, bowed deeply to Yang Hu, and said, "I have practiced medicine for fifty years, and only today do I realize what it means to be outmatched. I... cannot even come close to Doctor Yang's medical skills."

With this bow, the medical community in the eastern part of the city completely submitted.

The other old doctors also stood up awkwardly and bowed to Yang Hu in apology. They had originally come to challenge him and get revenge, but they never expected to witness something they could never do in their entire lives. In the end, they became the ones who made this young miracle doctor famous.

This miraculous story of "curing hemiplegia with a few acupuncture needles in public" spread throughout the city in just a few days. The old-established pharmacies in the city no longer dared to compete with Jishetang. Instead, several young doctors came to the pharmacy begging to become its apprentices.

From then on, no doctor in the eastern part of the city dared to use the phrase "young and inexperienced" to describe the young miracle doctor. When Doctor Yang from the east of the city was mentioned, even the oldest and most arrogant old doctor in the city would straighten his clothes and respectfully call him "miracle doctor."

Yang Hu knew in his heart that the heavier the weight of the city's submission and respect was on his shoulders, the closer he was to the path he truly wanted to take.