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

Ever since he discovered that the cotton-padded clothes and charcoal were being withheld, Yang Hu used the pretext of the medical officer taking stock of the entire camp's supplies to bury himself in that tattered ledger.

During the day, he treated the wounded and sick throughout the entire camp; at night, by the dim light of a lamp, he meticulously examined the muddled accounts, clarifying them more and more clearly.

The number of cotton-padded coats to be issued, the number actually received, and the number remaining in the warehouse are all clearly recorded in the ledgers.

But accounts are accounts, and goods are goods. When compared with the actual items, there are holes everywhere. Of the cotton clothes and charcoal that should have been there, seven or eight out of ten were gone from the warehouse; the ones that were deducted were vaguely recorded in the accounts as "loss" or "depreciation," which looked plausible, but in reality, they could not withstand any close scrutiny.

This is a facade, a facade to impress those in power. The books look good on the surface, but underneath, the company has been emptied out.

Besides Section Chief Zhao from the Quartermaster Department, another familiar name was involved in signing the document: the Central Army Clerk.

The holes in the accounts, one after another, strung together, revealed a blood-sucking underground channel.

The more thoroughly Yang Hu investigated, the more restless the hand hidden in the shadows became.

Discarded cotton-padded clothes, leaking military equipment, poisoned arrowheads, contaminated water sources... these things were originally scattered in various places, with no apparent connection. But once you traced the military supplies through the accounts, they all came together, pointing to the same hand.

On this day, Yang Hu was in the wounded soldiers' camp, changing the dressings of several soldiers whose frostbite had not yet healed.

Suddenly, a message came from the central command tent, saying that the inventory of military supplies was a matter of great importance, concerning the entire camp's food and pay. It was unreasonable for a mere medical officer to overstep his authority in conducting the inventory. He was ordered to return the accounts immediately and not to inquire about military supplies again.

The messenger was the military clerk who was so anxious about Yang and Hu's audit that he was restless.

The fact that he personally made this trip shows just how far that hand has been pushed by this ledger.

He stood outside the wounded soldiers' camp, offering a forced smile and a polite bow: "Medical Officer Yang, your medical skills are good, but matters of military supplies are handled by the Quartermaster Department and the Central Army. It wouldn't look good if word got out that you, someone in charge of the wounded, are overstepping your bounds. You should hand over these ledgers."

This is to cut off his access to the accounts.

That ledger was the evidence Yang Hu held in his hand, the evidence that brought him closer to that hand. Once handed over, it would be like a stone sinking into the sea, never to be heard from again. The clues that had been uncovered by the military supplies team these past few days would all be cut off here.

Seeing that the accounts were about to be exposed, the hand decided to take a hard line and wrest the power to audit the accounts back from him.

The soldiers watching were all sweating for Yang Hu.

The words transmitted from the central command tent carried the oppressive weight of official authority. How could a mere medical officer possibly withstand such pressure?

But Yang Hu's expression remained calm.

The entire camp held their breath, waiting to see how the young medical officer would respond to the command issued by the central army.

"I can hand over the account books," Yang Hu said calmly, putting down the roll of gauze he was holding for changing the dressing. "But I've already investigated these accounts thoroughly. If I'm going to hand them over, I need to provide a clear explanation."

The military clerk's expression changed.

"The quartermaster's warehouse is mostly empty; the soldiers on the city walls are short of clothes and charcoal, and they're suffering from frostbite in droves." Yang Hu spoke each word clearly, his voice not loud, but each syllable distinct. "The cotton-padded clothes and charcoal allocated to us are recorded as 'losses' in the accounts, but they're nowhere to be found in the warehouse. Where did these 'losses' go? I'd very much like to ask."

He paused, his gaze falling on the face of the military clerk, speaking each word with a calmness bordering on coldness.

"The more we investigate these accounts, the more interesting they become. For every deficit and every 'loss,' Yang remembers clearly who handled, signed, and closed the accounts."

His words, seemingly plain, were like a needle, precisely piercing the heart of the military clerk.

The smile on the face of the military clerk froze.

He then realized that the young doctor in front of him was by no means an easy target.

He hadn't expected that this young doctor, barely in his twenties and seemingly just someone who could cure illnesses, would be so shrewd and cunning when it came to checking accounts. In just a few words, he exposed the shady dealings.

His initial contempt was quickly shattered by the young man's ability to audit the accounts.

"You...you're spouting nonsense!" he shouted, his voice trembling with fear. "What do you, a mere medical officer, know about military supplies accounts? Don't spout such nonsense and slander your superiors!"

"Whether it's nonsense or not, it's all clearly written in the ledger; there's no way to fake it," Yang Hu said calmly, unmoved by his bluster. "I'll return this ledger to the central command tent right now. The ledger is dead, but the brothers in this battalion who suffered frostbite are alive. Whether the ledger disappears into the sea or there's an explanation, the brothers are watching."

This sentence puts the conversation back on track.

The entire camp of soldiers, those who had been treated by Yang Hu and those who remembered his kindness, all gathered around, their eyes fixed on the military clerk. In their eyes, there was doubt, anger, and indignation, but also a heavy trust.

These soldiers were all rescued by Yang Hu, one by one, from arrow poison, frostbite, and dysentery. In their hearts, the words of this young medical officer carried more weight than those relayed from the central command tent.

People's hearts are won over by Yang Hu through his medical treatments and life-saving efforts over the past few days.

Now, the hearts of his soldiers have become his strongest source of confidence.

The clerk, under the intense gaze of the entire camp, felt as if he were being pricked by needles, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He opened his mouth, wanting to lash out again, but the relentless stares rendered him speechless.

He had thought that by invoking the authority of the central army, he could easily seize the young doctor's account books. However, he had not expected that the physician, relying on the loyalty of the entire battalion of soldiers, would hold him back so firmly that he could not move an inch.

Not daring to say anything more, he reluctantly left with the words "Hand over the account books immediately" and walked away looking dejected.

"He's panicking." Yang Hu watched the military clerk's hasty departure with a cold gaze. "He only tries to seize power when the accounts are about to be exposed. The more impatient he is, the more flaws he'll reveal."

Qin Ying, disguised as a medicine boy, stood aside, watching Yang Hu defuse the pressure with ease. A glint of surprise flashed in her usually cold eyes.

She had witnessed the fierce battles of thousands of soldiers on the battlefield, and the strategic planning and duels between generals. But this was the first time she had ever seen someone, without wielding a single sword or spear, use only an account book and the hearts of the people to force a hand that could only manipulate events on the border into a state of panic and confusion, unable to advance or retreat.

In the young man's hand, it seemed, lay something she had never seen before, something sharper than swords and knives.

But she knew in her heart that although Yang Hu had the upper hand in today's confrontation, they had also completely broken off all pretense of civility.

Now that hand has torn off the mask, it has no more scruples. Next time, it will never use such soft tactics of seizing power and exerting pressure, but will instead use a deadly move to take lives directly.

Her hand, which was hanging in her sleeve, quietly pressed against the short knife.

She knew better than anyone that the fight had reached a point where it was a fight to the death.

During the standoff, the tent was so quiet that the crackling of the charcoal fire could be heard. The clerk's hand remained resting on the corner of the table, his fingers turning white from the pressure, but he never dared to pick up the document.

The document was never delivered. When the clerk stepped out of the tent, he tripped and fell, only managing to steady himself by holding onto the tent pole.

The snowstorm had not yet subsided, and lurking danger, mingling with the biting cold of this frontier, was silently approaching. A life-or-death battle was now inevitable.