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

The barbarians' frenzied attack was repelled, and Qing Shi Kou finally got a moment to catch its breath during the temporary retreat.

But before they could even catch their breath, a heart-wrenching scream came from the moat.

"Dr. Yang! Quick! Zhao Erlang has fallen into the river! He's been pulled out, but he's not breathing!"

Yang Hu's heart sank, and he quickly ran over.

On the banks of the moat, several soldiers, soaking wet from their earlier rescue, stood helplessly around a man lying stiffly on the ground. The soldier lying there was Zhao Erlang, a young soldier guarding the eastern section of the city wall. In the fierce battle just moments before, a barbarian arrow had forced him to fall from the crenellations, plunging him headfirst into the moat below. When his comrades pulled him out, his face was bluish-purple, his stomach bloated, and he was unconscious and lifeless.

The military doctor who was surrounding him checked his breathing and pressed his chest, shaking his head repeatedly.

"She's not breathing, her heart isn't beating anymore," an old doctor sighed. "She drowned. She was already dead when they pulled her out; even a god couldn't bring her back. Take her away and let Zhao Erlang's parents know."

"Drowned?" Yang Hu's eyes suddenly darkened. He pushed aside the crowd, checked Zhao Erlang's mouth and nose, and then examined his eyelids closely. "How long has it been since he fell into the water? His lungs are full of water, his air is blocked, and his heart has just stopped beating. He's only just stopped breathing; he's not really dead yet. He can be brought back to life!"

Ordinary people, upon seeing someone drowning and lifeless, would simply assume they had drowned and were beyond saving.

When a person is drowning, water enters their lungs when they fall in, blocking their airway and making it difficult to breathe, causing their heart to stop beating. However, this cessation of breathing is only temporary, and the brain has not yet failed. If the water in the lungs is drained in time, and the heart and lungs are helped to start beating and breathing again, the person can regain consciousness.

At this critical moment of drowning and dying, every extra breath increases the risk of never returning.

There is no room for hesitation.

"Get out of the way!" Yang Hu ordered sharply, flipping Zhao Erlang over and making him lie face down. He then pressed his knee against Zhao Erlang's stomach and slammed it down.

A large mouthful of murky river water gushed from Zhao Erlang's mouth and nose.

Yang Hu's knees pressed down again and again, and several mouthfuls of muddy water gushed from Zhao Erlang's mouth and nose until no more water could be squeezed out.

After draining the fluid from his lungs, Yang Hu turned him back to lie flat, pried open his clenched teeth, checked his throat to make sure it wasn't blocked, then tilted his head back and pinched his nose.

"His heart isn't beating, and he's not breathing. I have to help him keep breathing," Yang Hu said in a deep voice as he worked, his eyes filled with a certainty that understood life and death. "Press on his chest to force the blood to flow; then blow air into his lungs to help him breathe. We can't stop for even a moment."

"This pressure is the most important thing." Yang Hu said in a deep voice as he found the right spot on his chest, his eyes showing a certainty that understood life and death. "You have to press down deep enough to force the blood in his heart; you have to release it quickly enough to let the blood return. Too fast or too slow, too deep or too shallow, it won't work."

He pressed one hand down on top of the other, placing it squarely on Zhao Erlang's chest, pressing down with all his might, again and again. Press down, release, press down, release, the rhythm fast and steady. Everyone in the tent held their breath, not daring to utter a sound, watching as this young physician pressed down on the chest of a "dead man." After dozens of presses, he bent down, pinched Zhao Erlang's nose, and blew two deep breaths into his mouth. Zhao Erlang's chest rose slightly with each breath.

Press and blow air repeatedly.

The soldiers and doctors nearby were dumbfounded. They had never heard of such a method of resuscitation, which involved pressing on the chest and blowing air into the mouth of a dead person. The old doctor stood there with his mouth agape, speechless for a long time.

Time passed by, one breath at a time.

Sweat beaded on Yang Hu's forehead, but his pressing down never stopped or faltered.

After countless presses and breaths, Zhao Erlang, who was lying on the ground with a bluish-purple face, suddenly coughed violently, spitting out a mouthful of water, his chest heaving up and down.

He caught his breath.

The heart that had stopped beating began to beat again; the breath that had stopped returned. The bluish-purple face gradually regained its color.

A young soldier who had been sentenced to "drowning" and carried away to report his death was miraculously brought back to life by Yang Hu's method of controlling the water, pressing down, and blowing air into him.

The military doctors who had previously said that Zhao Erlang had "drowned" were all stunned when they saw him come back to life, their faces showing a mixture of shock and shame.

Having practiced medicine their entire lives, they had never encountered anyone who had drowned and died. They could only shake their heads, sigh, and report the death. No one had ever dared to apply pressure and blow air onto a lifeless person. Who could have imagined that this person, who had stopped breathing, could be brought back from the brink of death by first draining the water, then applying pressure to the chest, and then blowing air into the person's chest?

The old doctor had been so resolute in his death sentence, but now, looking at Zhao Erlang who had come back from the dead, his old face turned bright red. The arrogance he had accumulated over decades of medical practice seemed utterly worthless in comparison to the person this young physician had saved.

"Dr. Yang's skill is truly remarkable; he can bring the dead back to life." The old doctor's eyes suddenly reddened as he looked at the patient's breathing, which had become even again.

Yang Hu did not answer. He had no way of explaining this method of controlling water and resuscitating the heart and lungs to the people of this era. He only knew that this method could save lives.

And the one who was saved was a soldier who could guard the eastern section of the city wall.

Zhao Erlang was guarding the eastern breach that the barbarians had relentlessly attacked and nearly breached. If he were to survive this ordeal, he could once again take up his bow and defend his section of the wall. The barbarians would return the next day, and every additional archer on the eastern section of the wall increased the chances of holding the breach. In this bloody battle to defend the isolated city, saving a soldier meant gaining more combat strength. A soldier pulled from the river and able to stand on the wall was like adding another spear to the nearly lost breach. The time it took for a soldier to be carried down and back up the wall was every extra moment the city could hold out.

Zhao Erlang slowly woke up, staring blankly at the sky above for a while before coming to his senses. He turned to look at the young physician standing beside him, his voice hoarse as he squeezed out a sentence.

"Didn't I fall into the river and drown? How am I still alive?"

"You did drown, but you're lucky you didn't die completely," Yang Hu said calmly. "I pulled your life back from the river. Rest and recover. Once you're fully recovered, go back to the eastern section of the city wall and guard that breach for me, shooting down a few more barbarians."

Looking at his life that had been saved, Zhao Erlang's eyes suddenly reddened. He struggled to get up and kowtow to Yang Hu, but Yang Hu held him down.

Yang Hu squatted down and tucked the blanket around the last soldier before standing up.

The eastern breach that Zhao Erlang was guarding was almost torn open by the barbarians today; this disaster of falling into the water was ultimately caused by the hand that breached the city's defenses and colluded with the barbarians.

The brothers' lives and that sin are already entangled in a knot that cannot be untied, nor need to be.

The soldier was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling. Yang Hu stood by his bedside for a while, then tucked the exposed hand back inside.

The roll of military reports, hidden close to the body, was gradually approaching the outline of that hand.