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

During the brief respite after the barbarian leader's initial offensive was repelled, the wounded soldiers' camp finally got a moment to catch their breath.

But before they could even catch their breath, another urgent shout came from the camp gate.

"Dr. Yang! Quick! Captain Chen has been shot with an arrow!"

Several guards carried an armored officer, who tumbled and crawled in.

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

The one who arrived was none other than Captain Chen, who had previously appreciated him in the camp and promoted him to the position of assistant physician. At this moment, his face was pale, and a barbarian crossbow bolt was deeply embedded in his neck, the arrowhead buried in the side of his neck, with only a small part of the shaft protruding, trembling slightly with his breath. Blood flowed down the shaft, soaking half of his armor.

"He was shot by a barbarian crossbow bolt while defending the city," the guard said urgently. "The city doctor dares not remove it, saying that if he does, the bleeding will not stop!"

The military doctors standing around were indeed all at a loss, and none of them dared to step forward.

"This arrow is lodged in his neck, right next to a major blood vessel." An old doctor shook his head repeatedly, his voice trembling. "Whether you pull it out or not, you'll die. Give it to Captain Chen and prepare for his funeral."

"Preparing for the worst?" Yang Hu's eyes suddenly darkened. He checked Captain Chen's pulse, then leaned closer to examine the arrow wound. "His pulse is still there. The arrowhead was off by half an inch, but it didn't sever any major blood vessels. This arrow can be pulled out, and the man can be saved!"

When ordinary people see someone with an arrow in their neck and bleeding profusely, they think that once the arrow is pulled out, the blood will gush out and the person will surely die, so no one dares to reach out.

The crossbow bolt was lodged in the side of the neck, the most dangerous part being that vital blood vessel. If the arrow severed it, even a miracle wouldn't save it; but if it was just a hair's breadth off and not completely severed, the arrow would still be blocking the wound. To save it, one had to firmly press on that blood vessel the instant the arrow was pulled out, pulling and pressing simultaneously in one smooth motion, making sure no blood gushed out.

There is no room for hesitation.

"Hold him down, don't let him move!" Yang Hu ordered sternly. "Prepare strong liquor, clean cloth, and binding thread! Bring them all!"

Qin Ying, disguised as a medicine boy, had already prepared strong liquor, cloth strips, and silk threads. He then stepped forward to help several guards hold down Captain Chen tightly.

Yang Hu first used his fingers to firmly press down on the upper part of the arrowhead where it had entered the flesh, thus suppressing the major blood vessel.

"Pulling out an arrow isn't as simple as just yanking it out," he said in a deep voice as he pressed down on the wound, his eyes revealing a certainty that understood life and death. "The arrowhead is still blocking the wound. If you pull it out, the blood will gush out. You have to hold the blood vessel down firmly first, then pull it out in the direction the arrow went in, and tie it off the moment it's pulled out so that the blood won't leak out."

"If this spot loosens, blood will spurt out." His fingers were as steady as a rock. "When I pull out the arrow, none of you are allowed to let go."

Immediately, he gripped the broken arrow shaft with his other hand, held his breath, and aimed at the direction from which the arrowhead would pierce his flesh.

This pull is the most dangerous. If you're a fraction too fast, the arrow will sever the blood vessel that has already narrowly missed; if you're a fraction too slow, blood will gush out during the moment the shaft loosens. It all depends on this press and pull; not a single mistake can be made.

With a sudden yet steady motion, he pulled the deadly crossbow bolt back along its original path.

As soon as the arrow left the flesh, dark red blood gushed out. Captain Chen trembled violently in pain, and several guards held him down tightly, but Yang Hu's hand remained as steady as a rock, without the slightest tremor.

But Yang Hu's fingers, pressed against the blood vessels, did not move an inch. Although blood gushed out, he suppressed it tightly, so that it only seeped in a gurgling sound and did not spurt.

Without loosening his grip, his other hand swiftly opened the wound and, with silk thread soaked in strong liquor, steadily tied up the severed vein that had been cut by the arrow.

The bleeding has stopped.

The wound, which had been gushing blood, finally stopped bleeding.

Yang Hu finally breathed a sigh of relief, cleaned the wound, sutured it, and applied herbal medicine to promote tissue regeneration and stop bleeding.

A captain who was about to die from this arrow was saved by his swift and decisive actions of pressing down, pulling out the arrow, and tying the wound. His pale face gradually regained some color.

The military doctors who had previously said they were "preparing for the worst" were all stunned as they looked at the pulled-out crossbow bolt and at Captain Chen, who had escaped death.

Having practiced medicine their entire lives, when faced with a patient wounded by an arrow to the neck, close to a major blood vessel, they had always only shaken their heads, sighed, and let the patient wait to die; no one had ever dared to reach out and pull out the arrow. Who could have imagined that the arrow could be pulled out by first pressing down on the blood vessel, then pulling it out while pressing, and then ligating it on the spot, forcefully pulling a person who was about to die back from the clutches of death.

"Dr. Yang's skill is truly miraculous." The other doctors looked at each other, but none of them said anything.

Yang Hu did not answer. He had no way of explaining the methods of applying pressure to stop the bleeding and removing the arrow to tie the wound to people of this era. He only knew that this method could save lives.

And the one who was saved was a captain who could lead troops to defend the city.

Captain Chen was one of the most formidable generals in the Western Camp. He always led from the front when defending the city, and his soldiers obeyed his orders. If such a general were to be killed by a single arrow, a pillar supporting the city wall would collapse.

In this bloody battle to defend the isolated city, saving a single soldier meant gaining a fighting strength; saving a general meant preserving the morale of a section of the city wall. If the barbarians knew that Captain Chen, whom they had shot down with an arrow, was now alive and kicking back on the city wall, their morale would likely collapse by three points. In this isolated city, whether or not they could bring their men back to the city wall was the key to whether or not they could hold it.

A single hand that can draw an arrow is worth a whole squad of fresh soldiers on the city wall. This might be empty talk elsewhere, but here in the blood-soaked Qing Shi Kou, it is a stark truth.

Captain Chen slowly regained consciousness, looked at the young physician guarding his side, and weakly but solemnly squeezed out a few words from his throat.

"Dr. Yang, you saved my life again."

"Take care of him," Yang Hu said calmly. "I saved your life from the barbarians' crossbow bolts. Rest assured and recover. Once you're well, go back to the city wall and guard Qing Shi Kou for a few more days, and kill a few more barbarians."

Captain Chen looked at the crossbow bolt that had nearly killed him, then at the young physician, and nodded heavily.

After finishing tidying up, Yang Hu's gaze fell on the crossbow bolt that had been pulled out.

He picked up the arrow and examined it closely by the lamplight, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

The crossbow bolts were polished to an extremely fine finish, and a small mark was engraved on the shaft.

These exquisitely crafted crossbow bolts, with their evenly shaped and sharp arrowheads, straight shafts, and markings indicating their military origin, are clearly not something that ordinary barbarian weapons could produce. They are standard crossbow bolts that only the Great Cheng Border Army's own weaponry could produce.

Their own crossbow bolt pierced the neck of their own captain.

Clearly, someone was sending these exquisitely crafted weapons, batch after batch, continuously into the hands of the barbarians outside the pass, only for them to be shot back into the bodies of the soldiers defending the city.

Yang Hu held the crossbow bolt, his fingertips tracing the arrow inch by inch from the tip to the fletching.

The barbarians outside the city launched a fierce attack with the sophisticated weapons sent from within the pass, while the soldiers on the city walls defended the city with their bare hands. Meanwhile, the hand hidden in the central army, which had been supplying the barbarians with weapons, watched all of this with cold eyes.

The blood of those who defended the city and the thread of those who colluded with the enemy were two strands on the same rope.

He twirled the crossbow bolt halfway between his fingers, the military-style marking on the bolt gleaming coldly under the lamplight. He had seen this mark far too many times in the past six months.

An even more dangerous storm is quietly approaching, step by step, amidst this blood and fire.