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

Before dawn, the barbarian army outside the city launched another fierce attack.

On the city walls, the sounds of battle shook the heavens, and blood flowed like a river.

As dawn broke, a wounded soldier was carried by several comrades, tumbling and crawling as they rushed into the wounded soldiers' camp.

"Dr. Yang! Help! Tuesday, a barbarian's spear pierced my stomach!"

Yang Hu's heart sank, and he quickly stepped forward.

The wounded soldier lay supine on the door panel on Tuesday, a spear piercing his abdomen, leaving a gruesome wound from which his intestines spilled out, stained with blood and mud. His face was ashen, his breath faint, yet he was not yet dead.

The military doctors standing nearby were already pale with fright.

"His stomach has ruptured, his intestines are spilling out, there's no hope of saving him." An old doctor shook his head repeatedly, his voice trembling. "It's a fatal disease with no chance of survival. Even a god couldn't save him. Let's leave him with a whole corpse to save him from further suffering."

"Leave him with a whole body?" Yang Hu took Zhou Er's pulse, then looked at the wound, his eyes suddenly darkening. "He's still breathing, and his intestines aren't severed. His life isn't over yet!"

Ordinary people, seeing the ruptured belly and spilling intestines, would think it was a fatal disease and would avoid it at all costs.

Having one's abdomen pierced and intestines spilling out is certainly dangerous, but as long as the intestines are not completely severed or rotten, the spilled intestines can be cleaned, returned to the abdomen, and the wound can be stitched up to prevent further ulceration, and there is hope of saving the life.

There is no room for hesitation.

"Hold him down! Bring me strong liquor, clean cloth, my needle and thread, and wound medicine! Also, boil a pot of lukewarm salt water!"

Qin Ying, disguised as a medicine boy, had already efficiently prepared strong liquor, clean cloth, and sewing needles and thread, and then stepped forward to help hold down Zhou Er. Over the past few days, this "medicine boy," handing over instruments, holding people down, and preparing medicine, had become Yang Hu's most capable hands in the rescue.

He first reached out to probe the overflowing intestines, and then, by the light of day, carefully examined the penetrating wound.

"The spear went in through the side of his abdomen, but it didn't hit any vital organs. His intestines just spilled out, they weren't severed," Yang Hu said in a deep voice, his eyes filled with a certainty that understood life and death. "He's still alive."

He then used strong liquor to carefully wash away the blood, dirt, and grime from the overflowing intestines, bit by bit, and then rinsed it repeatedly with warm, lightly salted water.

"If the filth in his intestines isn't cleaned properly, it will fester and rot when it's put back in his stomach, and he still won't survive," Yang Hu said in a deep voice as he washed. "This step may seem insignificant, but it's the one that can't be rushed. Every second counts so that he can live for decades longer."

After the intestines were thoroughly cleaned, he carefully used a clean cloth to gently and meticulously return each section of intestine, inch by inch, back into Zhou Er's abdomen, keeping it exactly as it was before.

This step is crucial. If the returned intestines are even slightly twisted or misaligned, it could lead to a fatal problem later. Yang Hu's fingers moved with the lightness of someone caressing a fragile piece of porcelain, smoothing out each segment of intestine perfectly. Zhou Er was trembling all over in pain, his jaw clenching so hard it was grinding, but Yang Hu's hands remained perfectly steady.

The method of repositioning the intestines was more horrifying than murder. The accompanying doctors were dumbfounded, holding their breath and not daring to utter a sound.

After the intestines were returned to their original position, Yang Hu took out a needle and thread soaked in strong liquor and, with swift and skillful needlework, stitched up the gaping wound layer by layer.

His stitches were fine and even, and his hands were as steady as a rock, never faltering.

After the stitches were finished, he carefully bandaged the wound with a clean cloth soaked in the medicine, then applied herbs that clear heat, detoxify, promote tissue regeneration, and prevent decay. Finally, he gave Zhou Er a bowl of thick soup to stop the bleeding and calm her nerves.

"The wound inside needs to heal, and we need to guard against external threats," Yang Hu said in a deep voice, standing guard beside Zhou Er. "What we fear most is the wound festering and pus forming inside. We have to keep a close watch on this for the next few days."

Time passed, little by little.

Zhou Er, who had been barely breathing, gradually recovered under the treatment of intestinal cleansing, repositioning, suturing, and applying medicine. His pale complexion gradually regained some color, and his weak breathing stabilized bit by bit.

A life that was about to be taken by that spear was once again pulled back from the brink of death by Yang Hu.

The army doctors who had previously said to "leave him with a whole body" were all stunned when they saw the stitched-up wound and Zhou Er's miraculous escape from death.

They had practiced medicine their whole lives, knowing only that a ruptured abdomen with spilled intestines was a death sentence, and when faced with such a case, all they could do was shake their heads and sigh, leaving the person with a complete corpse. Who could have imagined that the spilled intestines could be cleaned piece by piece, returned to their original position, and the wound stitched up, pulling a person who was on the verge of death back from the brink of death?

"Dr. Yang's technique is truly unheard of."

The old doctor turned his face away, his ears turning bright red.

Yang Hu did not answer. He had no way of explaining this method of eviscerating and repositioning the intestines, then suturing and preserving them, to the people of this era. He only knew that this method could save lives.

And the one who was saved was a soldier capable of carrying a gun and defending the city. On Tuesday, he fought bravely on the city wall, killing countless barbarians. If such a fierce soldier were to die in vain from a stomach wound, the city wall would be missing another spear.

At this critical juncture of defending the isolated city, every soldier saved increases the chances of holding the walls. Here, medicine is not merely about saving lives; it's about holding the very life and death of this besieged city in one's hands.

On Tuesday, he slowly woke up and looked at Yang Hu who was guarding him. Weakly but solemnly, he squeezed out a few words from his throat.

"Dr. Yang, it was you who gave me life."

"Take care of him," Yang Hu said calmly. "I saved your life from that spear. Rest assured and recover. Once you're well, go back up to the city walls and cut down a few more barbarians for me."

After everything was tidied up, Yang Hu's gaze fell on something that Zhou Er had been clutching in his hand when he was carried in earlier.

It was an arrow that had been broken in two.

The method of poisoning the arrowheads was both even and deep, far beyond the crude methods of ordinary barbarians.

It was through Sun Canjun's connections that the poisoned arrow was secretly sent out.

The fiercer the barbarians outside the city, the more it highlighted the deep sin of the hand hidden inside the city that handed the knife to the barbarians.

The barbarians' poisoned arrows and spears killed the brothers on the city walls; the medicine and weapons that hand fed to the barbarians were forged into those deadly poisoned arrows and spears that pierced the guts. The fighting outside the city and the covert struggle inside the city were always on the same front.

Yang Hu slung his medicine chest over his shoulder and carefully placed the broken arrow and the poisoned arrowhead he kept close to his body together. These two items, along with the poison transfer record that Su Heng had uncovered and the fake account book on the northern front, were yet another piece of evidence of that hand's collusion with the enemy.

He put the broken arrow and the arrowhead together, wrapped them in a cloth, and carefully kept them close to his body.

Every life saved on the city wall adds another entry to the account of the commander in the central tent.

A night wind rose, lifting a corner of the tent flap and letting in the flickering light of torches from the city walls, illuminating the wounded soldiers scattered on the ground. He stood there for a long time before finally reaching out to pull the flap back down.

His hands were meant to not only snatch the lives of his brothers defending the city from the barbarian spears, but also to eventually, through all the evidence, root out the hand that had fattened the barbarians and brought suffering to the border.