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

Wang Laoshuan couldn't completely swallow back the word "Little Princess" he uttered.

Although Yang Hu managed to subdue and resolve the situation on the spot, this incident served as a wake-up call for him. Qin Ying's disguised identity was far too dangerous in this camp where she had once commanded troops and where her old subordinates still remained.

He must quicken his pace.

In recent days, Yang Hu, taking advantage of his position as medical officer, has gradually taken control of the medical affairs of the entire camp.

He removed rotten flesh to save rotten legs, isolated people to stop the epidemic, triaged patients to stop the bloodshed, used traction to set broken bones, cleaned wounds to treat wind and poison... One after another, he solved fatal diseases that seemed hopeless to the army doctors, and pulled lives back from the brink of death. His reputation in the camp quietly climbed to a height that even he himself had never expected.

From military commanders like Captain Chen to ordinary cooks and soldiers, everyone admired this young medical officer.

The soldiers all gave a thumbs up when they talked about this young medical officer.

"With Dr. Yang by my side, I'm not afraid of getting injured."

"That's right. In the past, when we were seriously injured, it was a matter of life and death, and we left it to fate. Now that Doctor Yang is here, many brothers who should have died have been pulled back from the brink of death."

"During that night raid, my stomach was ripped open, and my intestines were almost spilling out. It was Doctor Yang who stitched it back up for me, stitch by stitch. In the past, I would have been a corpse long ago."

"More than that. During that great epidemic the other day, if it weren't for Doctor Yang, more than half of the brothers in this battalion would probably have died."

This reputation, seemingly a medical title, is in fact the most tangible and invaluable source of morale in this large camp.

Swords and spears can be wielded by power, and military orders can be suppressed by official authority, but this heartfelt trust and support cannot be bought or stolen by any official position or power.

Yang Hu knew that if he wanted to bring down the hand hidden deep within the central army, it would be far from enough for him and Qin Ying to fight alone.

That force had been entrenched here for years, deeply rooted, with numerous followers and spies everywhere. In terms of official rank, power, and followers, he, an outsider medical officer, was far inferior.

But no matter how powerful it was, it couldn't surpass the genuine hearts of the brothers in this battalion, nor the scales of good and evil in their hearts. These rough and tough men knew better than anyone else who was good and evil between a man who could snatch their lives back from a pile of corpses and a man who leaked their military rations and weapons to the barbarians, causing them to die needlessly.

A doctor saves lives. But in this camp, whose foundations had been hollowed out by that dark hand, what he saved was far more than just lives.

The lives and hearts he saved, the hopes and trust that were lost and then regained, became his most solid and unshakable support when he later stirred up the muddy waters and exposed the mastermind behind it all.

The human heart is the sharpest knife in this world.

Late at night.

The daytime hustle and bustle of the wounded soldiers' camp gradually subsided, leaving only the even breathing of the wounded and the occasional murmurs.

"You're playing a very big game." Qin Ying, disguised as a medicine boy, watched Yang Hu work by the dim light of an oil lamp, outlining the details of military supplies on a piece of paper, and said softly.

"Yes." Yang Hu did not deny it, pointing his finger at the paper covered with names. "Squad Leader Zhao is the mole, and the military clerk is the henchman. But the real, all-powerful hand above them is hidden too deeply. We can't fight them head-on; we can't overthrow them."

His fingertips moved slowly across the paper, from Squad Leader Zhao's name to the private seal of the Central Army clerk, and then into the blank space, into the thick fog belonging to that hand.

"But the more things are like this, the less I can rush." ​​He raised his head, his eyes showing a calmness and determination far beyond his years. "If I rush, I will make mistakes; and if I make mistakes, I will be shattered to pieces, dragging you down with me and all the brothers in this battalion who believe in me."

"What can overthrow it is never just my fist. It is the heroic souls who died unjustly in this city, the loyal and virtuous people whose families were destroyed by it, and the anger that has been pent up in the hearts of the brothers in this battalion for too long. What I need to do is to gather all of these together and wait for the right opportunity."

Qin Ying looked at him quietly.

The light from the oil lamp fell on his young yet composed face.

This young man, barely in his early twenties with a few stubble hairs, who should have been living a carefree life in some wealthy and prosperous place, carried on his shoulders such a heavy burden of national and familial injustice, the indelible grievance against Qin Ying, and the blood debt of a city's unjustly killed souls. Yet, in his eyes, there was not a trace of retreat, not a trace of hesitation, only a rock-solid calm and unwavering determination.

She suddenly realized that the greatest fortune of her life was that she had been taken in, protected, and healed by this person when she was seriously injured, desperate, and didn't even dare to give her name in that dilapidated courtyard.

Without him, she might have long been a withered skeleton lying unburied in the wilderness; the injustice done to the entire Lu family would never have been redressed. It was this young man who, in her darkest hour, offered her a glimmer of light.

"That day will come," she said softly, as if echoing Yang Hu, or as if speaking to herself who had been stifled for over a year and whose edges had been worn down in the darkness.

She believed it. If there was anyone in this world who could bring her back to the light of day, it was this quiet young man who held the hearts of the entire camp in his hands.

"Yes, we will." Yang Hu gazed at the heavily lit central command tent outside the window, emphasizing each word, "This line is still very long. But as long as we take it one step at a time, we will eventually reach the center of that line."

"When that hand is uprooted, when the injustice done to the entire Lu family is cleared, when you are given a clean and upright Qin Ying," he said, looking at her, each word distinct, "then..."

He paused, his voice softening, yet carrying immense weight.

"I'll take you home."

Qin Ying's eyes welled up with tears once again.

Family.

The mansion of the Duke of Zhenguo, long since confiscated and stained with the blood of his entire family, was a source of pain she dared not touch in her midnight dreams. Yet, when this person spoke the word "home," it inexplicably carried a hint of warmth, as if smoke were rising again from the chimneys.

Outside the window, the night was deep.

The lights in the central command tent were still blindingly bright. The hand hidden deep within was still breathing peacefully, dreaming of its grand ambition of dominating the world, accumulating wealth and harming lives, completely unaware that a net to uproot it was being quietly spread inch by inch within this camp, through the hands of a young medical officer.

But once the wind rises, it is difficult to stop.

It will begin in the hearts of the brothers in this battalion, in the buried bloodshed, and in the web quietly woven step by step by this young medical officer. One day, it will converge into a monstrous wave that sweeps across the entire central command tent, overturning and exposing the hand hidden deep within, which it thought was flawless, along with all its sins, to the light of day.

After Wang Laoshuan uttered the words "Little Princess," he froze, his mouth agape, not daring to look at her again for a long time. The other old soldiers beside him also fell silent, only lowering their heads to pack up their tools.

After the night was over, Wang Laoshuan squatted alone behind the stable, smoking his pipe for most of the night.

The wind rises from the tip of a blade of grass.