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

Winter is getting deeper and deeper, and the weather in the border region is getting colder day by day.

Beyond the pass lay a vast snowfield, and the camps within the pass were frozen into a world of ice and snow. In this frigid weather, even exhaled breath instantly turned into frost.

The north wind whipped up snowflakes, stinging their faces like knives. The defenders on the city walls, however, could not afford to relax for a moment. Taking advantage of the bitter cold, the barbarians intensified their attacks, and the fighting on the walls never ceased for a single day.

Day and night, many soldiers on guard duty in the freezing cold developed frostbite on their hands and feet. In severe cases, their entire fingers or feet turned bluish-purple and black, causing both pain and itching, and eventually becoming numb and losing all feeling.

In the military camp, the number of soldiers falling ill from frostbite increased day by day.

Another batch of wounded soldiers arrived at the wounded soldiers' camp. This time, it wasn't knife or arrow wounds, but frostbite. The mild cases involved swollen, red hands and feet with blisters; the severe cases involved entire patches of skin freezing black and necrotic, causing excruciating pain. Eventually, numbness set in, and a complete loss of sensation occurred, which was the most dangerous.

A lowly soldier guarding the eastern outpost was carried in. His feet were frozen black, his skin was swollen and oozing fluid, and he smelled of decay. He was delirious with fever.

The army doctor and Physician Liu shook their heads again after seeing it.

"It's frostbitten." Doctor Liu stroked his beard and sighed. "This foot can't be saved. It needs to be amputated as soon as possible, otherwise it will rot and he won't even be able to save his life."

Sawing foot.

The moment those two words were uttered, the unconscious soldier trembled.

A soldier guarding the pass, having lost both his legs, became a cripple. He would never again stand on the city wall or wield a sword. From then on, he would have to rely on crutches and others for charity; his life was truly over.

"Don't saw yet."

A steady voice rang out. Yang Hu squatted down, ignoring the pungent stench of decay, and carefully examined the pair of frostbitten feet.

Among the onlookers, one soldier scoffed, "This young doctor is barely grown up, what does he know? Physician Liu has been practicing medicine for decades and he always said to saw it off, how could this guy be better than Physician Liu?"

Yang Hu's fingertips gently explored those frozen feet.

Although the frostbite was severe, dark and swollen, and looked frightening, there was still some blood at the base of the toes; when the fingertips were pressed down, the skin and flesh still had a very slight rebound, and it was not completely stiff.

This means that the blood vessels and muscles in that area are not completely necrotic. If handled properly, by slowly warming the frozen blood vessels, preventing the wound from festering, and protecting the flesh that is not yet completely dead, these feet may not be lost.

Amputation, while seemingly a decisive and thorough approach, was actually a poor strategy employed by military doctors who lacked knowledge of frostbite treatment and sought to save time.

The methods used in the military to treat frostbite were extremely crude: either warming it with fire or rubbing it with snow. These two methods were precisely what damaged frostbitten flesh the most. Sudden high temperatures and rough rubbing would only make the already fragile frostbitten flesh rot even faster.

"I can guarantee it," Yang Hu said calmly, without the slightest hesitation in his tone.

His confident and composed demeanor contrasted sharply with the army doctor who was shaking his head. The sneering soldier opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing more.

"Save them?" Physician Liu was taken aback. "They're frozen like this, how can you save them?"

"You can't roast it with fire, and you can't rub it with snow." Yang Hu instructed Qin Ying, who was disguised as a medicine boy, to fetch warm water, while explaining, "Frozen flesh is most afraid of sudden changes in temperature and rubbing. You have to use warm water to slowly warm it up little by little."

He brought over a basin of lukewarm water, the temperature just right: not too cold, lest it make the frozen meat stiffer; nor too hot, lest it cause the delicate frozen meat to necrotize.

He slowly immersed his frozen feet in the water, allowing the stiff, cold blood vessels to gradually warm up.

Then, gently clean the festering, oozing wound with boiled and cooled herbal water. Then, carefully remove the necrotic flesh that is completely dead and beyond saving with a small knife. Finally, apply herbs to promote blood circulation, remove blood stasis, and prevent the ulcer from spreading.

Warm compresses, wound cleaning, and medication application—each step is meticulously executed.

This method is completely opposite to the crude methods used in the army, such as roasting with fire or rubbing with snow.

Unheard of. The soldiers and doctors watching were dumbfounded, exchanging bewildered glances, feeling that the young medical officer's treatment method was simply the opposite of what was being done.

"Warm water can cure frostbite? That's...that's too weird."

"Exactly. When we get cold, we immediately warm ourselves by the fire; who would soak us in warm water?"

Yang Hu ignored the comments and focused intently on applying warm compresses, cleaning the wound, and applying medicine over and over again.

After doing all this, Yang Hu straightened up. Treating frostbite cannot be rushed; it requires meticulous and slow work. In the coming days, he would need to apply warm compresses, clean the wound, and change the dressings every day, without the slightest carelessness.

Qin Ying assisted her from the side, handing over weapons and helping people up; her hands were very steady. The two worked together seamlessly, neither uttering a single extra word.

Over the course of several days, the swelling in the feet of the soldier guarding the eastern outpost gradually subsided, and the dark skin, once lifeless, began to regain its color. The feet, which had been condemned to death and thought beyond saving, were miraculously saved.

The day the soldier was able to walk again, he knelt before Yang Hu with a thud, kowtowing repeatedly: "Doctor Yang, you've given me a second life! Without my legs, how will my family survive!"

The entire camp was in uproar.

Those soldiers who had previously been skeptical of the young medical officer's abilities, or even made sarcastic remarks, all fell silent now, their eyes filled with pure awe as they looked at him.

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing! A foot that was deemed dead has been miraculously brought back to life!"

"Following Dr. Yang, I'm not afraid of getting cold anymore!"

Physician Liu had practiced medicine for forty years and had never seen such a method for treating frostbite. His hand, which was stroking his beard, froze in mid-air once again.

A young medical officer in his early twenties repeatedly broadened the horizons of this veteran military doctor.

Doctors save lives.

But in this bitterly cold border region, the significance of every hand and every foot that Yang Hu saved went far beyond that. Their owners were soldiers who could still wield swords and stand guard on the city walls. This severe cold froze the fighting strength of the Da Cheng garrison; but his skill in treating frostbite miraculously saved these soldiers who were almost frozen to death.

But Yang Hu's heart sank once again.

He treated several soldiers with frostbite, saving one only to have another fall into his lap. Gradually, a question arose in his mind: how could frostbite keep coming one after another, without end?

Border troops stationed in harsh, cold regions were supposed to be provided with ample cotton-padded clothing and charcoal for warmth during the winter. However, the soldiers guarding the city mostly wore thin, tattered uniforms, and the charcoal available for burning in the camp was pitifully scarce.

It wasn't that it was too cold; the soldiers simply didn't have enough warm clothes or charcoal to keep them warm.

In the same bitter cold, on the same city wall, why are the generals in the central army all warmly dressed and living comfortably, while these lowly soldiers who are guarding the front and suffering the most hardship don't even have a decent cotton coat?

This is not a natural disaster, it is clearly a man-made disaster.

He held the frozen, rotting flesh he had cut from the soldier's foot, his eyes growing colder with each passing moment.

Throughout the night, seventeen wounded soldiers were carried into the wounded soldiers' camp; fourteen were frostbitten, and only three had knife wounds.

When those frostbitten hands and feet were soaked in warm water, the blood slowly returning to their bodies, the pain was even worse than when they were frozen. One soldier bit his wrist so hard he wouldn't make a sound, leaving deep teeth marks.

Behind each and every case of frostbite, there likely lurks the shadow of that all-powerful hand. The bitter cold of this border region kills silently, more ruthlessly than swords and arrows.