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

Yang Hu's intention to check military supplies was not kept secret for long, as someone soon came knocking on his door.

The officer who arrived was Chen, the one who had appreciated him after the night raid. He was a captain in the West Camp, a rank far higher than that of a regular squad leader or platoon leader.

"Dr. Yang," Captain Chen said bluntly, "Commander Sun of the central army has fallen seriously ill. The doctors from the city and Physician Liu from the camp are all helpless. I remembered your skills and came here specifically to ask you to give it a try."

Central Army.

Yang Hu's heart skipped a beat. That was the deepest part of the camp, the heart of which the hidden hand lay. To be able to enter legitimately was a rare opportunity.

"I will do my best," he replied, and, along with Qin Ying, who was disguised as a medicine boy, followed Captain Chen to the central army.

The central command tent was imposing and heavily guarded, with numerous sentry posts. As Yang Hu walked, he discreetly memorized the layout and escape routes: where the document room was, which area was most heavily guarded, and which tents had the densest concentration of sentries. This very central command tent concealed the source of that secret channel, and also the hand that had harmed Qin Ying and implicated the entire Lu family.

Qin Ying, disguised as a medicine boy, shrank behind him, her eyes swirling with complex emotions. Back then, as a young princess and a female general patrolling the border, she had entered and exited this central army camp countless times, and officers would bow respectfully before her. Now, however, she had become a "dead person" who couldn't even show her face, her face smeared with ash, her shoulders hunched, following behind others, not daring to stray even for a moment.

The military report that declared her a "warrior who died fighting for his country" was sent out from this very tent.

In Commandant Sun's tent, chaos reigned.

The captain lay on the couch, his jaw clenched, his body stiff, his neck and back arched backward, his whole body taut like a bow. Even more terrifying, at the slightest light or sound, his whole body would convulse violently, as if he had gone mad.

A shaman, performing a ritual, was ringing a bell and chanting incantations around a platform, spitting as he shouted, "He's possessed! He's angered the mountain god, and divine punishment has descended! We must perform a ritual to exorcise the evil..."

Physician Liu was also there, looking distressed, clearly at his wit's end.

"The miracle doctor has arrived!" Captain Chen said in a deep voice.

All eyes turned to Yang Hu's young face. The shaman curled his lip, his eyes full of disdain: "A mere child, he knows how to exorcise evil spirits?"

Yang Hu ignored him, stepped forward, squatted down, and examined him carefully.

He examined Captain Sun's limbs and quickly found a wound on his calf that had been cut by a rusty iron stake a few days earlier but had not yet fully healed. The edges of the wound were red, swollen, and dark, oozing dirt.

He had a plan in mind.

This isn't some kind of divine punishment for being possessed; it's clearly because the wound wasn't properly treated, it got dirty, and the wind poison got in, attacking along the meridians and causing spasms throughout the body. This illness is dangerous; once it flares up, the jaw clenches, the body arches backward, and all the tendons feel like they're being gripped and twisted by an invisible hand. It can't withstand the slightest light or sound stimulation, and the slightest disturbance will cause violent convulsions.

He had seen this disease in his later life and knew how dangerous it was, killing seven or eight out of ten people. But he also knew it was not some kind of supernatural or ghostly tale, nor was it some divine punishment from the mountain gods. The root of the disease lay in that wound that had not healed properly and was stained with dirt.

"The bell has been ringing for ages," Yang Hu said calmly, glancing at the shaman, "and he's whipping himself even more violently. Are you trying to cure him, or hasten his death?"

The shaman's face stiffened.

"The Commandant's illness is caused by wind poison seeping into his wound, not by demonic possession." Yang Hu stood up and ordered, "Turn off all the lamps in the tent, hang up thick curtains to block out the light. Everyone, speak and move quietly."

Those around them looked at each other, puzzled.

"He's opening up a perfectly good wound again. What's he doing?" someone muttered quietly.

Yang Hu didn't argue with them, and just started doing his own thing.

He first ordered the lamps to be extinguished and thick curtains to be hung, making the tent dim and quiet, thus reducing the stimulation of light and sound that was causing his convulsions. Sure enough, without the disturbance of light and sound, Commandant Sun's violent convulsions subsided somewhat.

Only then did the others believe it somewhat, and they followed his advice and held their breath.

He then took some strong liquor and a small knife, and reopened the incompletely healed wound, which concealed filth beneath. He carefully cleaned away the stagnant pus and rotten flesh, revealing the still-bloody flesh underneath. He then applied antispasmodic and calming herbs, and gently pried open the captain's tightly clenched teeth with a cloth-wrapped wooden piece, placing it between his teeth to prevent him from biting his tongue during convulsions.

Each task and each matter was handled in an orderly and methodical manner.

Qin Ying, disguised as a medicine boy, stood by, handing over weapons and holding a lamp, her hands steady as she did so.

The shaman, who had been so arrogant in his earlier chanting and bell-ringing, gradually lost his confidence, his face turning pale and then flushed.

After about two hours, the intervals between Sun Duwei's violent convulsions gradually lengthened, and his clenched teeth loosened a bit, allowing him to be fed a few mouthfuls of rice porridge with the small spoon Qin Ying handed him.

The doubts in the eyes of the few guards standing in the tent gradually turned into astonishment and admiration.

When dawn broke, Commander Sun slowly woke up, his whole body limp and very weak, but the consciousness in his eyes was clear and lucid, no longer the madman he had been before.

The shaman who was performing rituals and talking about "divine punishment" had already quietly slipped away sometime during the day, not even bothering to take the string of copper bells with him.

Seeing this, Physician Liu was completely convinced. In his years of medical practice, he had treated this wind poison as a form of demonic possession, and he had watched helplessly as more than one or two of his brothers passed away.

"Impressive skills." Captain Chen looked at Yang Hu, his appreciation deepening. "The army desperately needs someone like you."

After resting for two days, Commandant Sun was able to speak again. He took Yang Hu's hand and thanked him repeatedly, tears streaming down his face: "It was Doctor Yang who pulled me back from the brink of death. From now on, this life belongs to you. If the army ever needs my help, just say the word."

A captain in the central army spoke such frank words to a young doctor in his early twenties. Captain Chen, watching from the side, saw this and his admiration deepened.

After news of this rescue at the central army spread, Colonel Chen immediately issued an order to promote Yang Hu to assistant medical officer of the western camp, to assist in the management of the entire camp's wounded and sick.

A young doctor who had served with the army surpassed a veteran medic with forty years of service and rose to become the assistant medical officer in charge of the entire battalion's medical affairs. This was unprecedented in the seniority-based military.

Just ten days ago, he had dismissed a young man as "a greenhorn," but now he was riding high on the head of this veteran military doctor with forty years of service. Doctor Liu opened his mouth, his face turning pale and then red. The resentment of being ranked by seniority was stuck in his chest, almost bursting out.

But the rotten leg he snatched back from the clutches of the King of Hell, the Captain Sun who was nearly killed as a divine punishment for being possessed by evil spirits, the brothers he rescued from the pile of corpses that night... all these things stuck in his throat, preventing him from uttering a single word of dissent.

In the end, he could only sigh and bow to Yang Hu, completely convinced of his defeat.

Yang Hu thanked Captain Chen, but his hand, hanging by his side, secretly clenched.

This position as assistant physician came too quickly and too coincidentally. Was it a genuine promotion by Commandant Chen, or was it a hidden hand keeping him under close scrutiny?

He has to be wary of both.

But no matter what it is, he has to accept this position.

Only by taking this position can he legitimately take another step closer to the deepest part of that hidden channel.