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

At the rocky outcrop, if you cut off a claw, you can lie down for now.

Yang Hu didn't rush to make a move.

The city garrison was commended, and the head constable said that from now on, people in the north would want to listen to him. Having such a powerful backer was a valuable asset. However, it couldn't be drawn immediately. The big boss behind the scenes was too well concealed; he couldn't force the issue.

He continued to see patients and cultivate his medicinal herb garden as usual.

The number of people seeking medical help has increased even more in the past few days. The reputation of "being able to cure diseases and fight battles" has spread, and the threshold of Yang's shop in the east of the city has almost been broken by the crowds.

Around noon that day, Yang Hu took Aji back from picking up medicine from Sun's shop, passing by the moat south of the city on the way.

A crowd had gathered around the riverbank, amidst a cacophony of cries and shouts.

Yang Hu paused, handed the medicine box to Aji, and squeezed through.

Among the crowd, a woman sat slumped on a wet bluestone, holding a seven or eight-year-old boy in her arms.

The boy was soaking wet, his face was pale and bluish, his lips were purple and his eyes were closed, and he was completely still.

"He was playing by the river, and he slipped and fell," someone nearby said, covering their mouth. "When they pulled him out, he looked like this—dead!"

The woman cried and screamed, her back hunched over, repeatedly calling out, "My son, my son..."

An old man next to them was waving his hand, preparing to pick up the child.

"Yes! Lie face down, shake the water out of your belly and you'll be saved!"

Several burly men rushed over and tried to grab the boy's leg.

Then someone else shouted.

"No, no, you have to bounce it on the cow's back, that way the water will come out quickly, the old way!"

"I think a water ghost has stolen her soul. We need to quickly call a shaman to call her back!"

Yang Huxin felt his heart sink.

Drowning.

He fell into the river, choked on the air, and suffocated.

But lifting him like that, bouncing him around, and yelling like that is just making things worse. The child was just pulled from the river; although he's lifeless, it doesn't necessarily mean he's beyond saving. We can't afford to waste this precious time!

"roll!"

He shoved away the uncle who was about to lift the child's leg.

The middle-aged man turned his head and frowned at the young man in his twenties.

"Where did you come from? The child drowned. Let her cry her heart out, let the mother cry until she's done, then at least send her away. What do you know, you little blabbermouth?"

Yang Hu was too lazy to argue with him.

He squatted down, placed two fingers on the child's neck and touched it, then lowered his head and pinched the child's nose.

The pulse is faint, almost imperceptible.

The breath stopped.

But the body wasn't stiff yet.

"He can be saved."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced the other person's ears. "Get out of the way, all of you!"

Everyone along the riverbank was stunned.

Can the dead be saved?

Yang Hu didn't care.

He took the child from the little woman's arms, laid him flat on the ground, turned his head to one side, tore open the child's clothes with his left hand, and pressed his hands together against the middle of the child's chest.

One press.

Once released.

One press.

Once released.

Very fast!

It's very even!

A certain technique, which used to be a vital life-saving method in that area, was something every child knew how to tell. But in the eyes of these people, it became a deadly sorcery.

Those who saw it were stunned:

What are you doing?

Did it crush the baby's chest?

"What a tragedy! The child is already dead, and they still treat him so cruelly!"

Yang Hu counted on his fingers.

After pressing the nostrils 30 times, I bent down, pinched the child's nostrils with one hand, and blew a deep breath into the child's pale little mouth.

The crowd erupted in a frenzy:

"He's blowing air at the dead baby!"

"This is madness! Blowing on a corpse! They'll be struck by lightning!"

The woman holding the baby, however, was like a drowning person grasping at a straw, staring intently at Yang Hu's hand, and stopped crying.

Yang Hu ignored the insults and curses behind him.

Press.

Blow air.

Press again.

Blow air again.

Sweat streamed down his hair.

It fell onto the stone.

One round.

Two wheels.

The old man next to him sneered.

"What did I tell you? The person is already cold; even a god couldn't save them. They're still putting on an act."

Yang Hu didn't look up.

When you're halfway through the third round.

The child's chest twitched.

He let out a "whoosh" and spat out a mouthful of muddy water, followed by a heart-wrenching cough.

Little by little, color returned to that pale face.

Alive!

The entire riverbank was deathly quiet for a moment.

Then, it exploded.

The woman rushed over, picked up the coughing child, and cried even harder than before, repeatedly kowtowing to Yang Hu.

"Miracle doctor! Miracle doctor is still alive! You saved my child!"

The old man who was being lifted upside down to drain the water had a mouth so big it could fit a fist, and he stood there stunned for a long time, unable to react.

The one who had been calling for a shaman to call back the soul had also silently slipped behind the people.

Yang Hu stood up and moved his somewhat numb wrist.

"Holding the child upside down to drain the water, bouncing the cow's rump," he said calmly. "It's like squeezing the air out of the child's lungs to death; the more you bounce, the less air they have."

Yang Hu glanced at the old man.

"If the child drowns and stops breathing, first inflate his chest to bring back the air, then blow fresh air into his mouth. It's about saving that last breath, not draining the water. If you hold him upside down for the length of an incense stick, the child will truly be gone."

The old man's face flushed red and then turned pale, but in the end he dared not say anything.

People began to whisper:

"Last time, the kid from the Li family in the west of the city fell into the water. They held him upside down and tossed him around like this for a long time, but then he stopped moving and just disappeared..."

"Yes, if they had encountered Dr. Yang, that child wouldn't have..."

Yang Hu didn't care about any of this. He told Aji to pack up his medicine box, left a few doses of calming and soothing medicine, told him to take good care of himself, and then left.

On the way back to the hospital, Aji couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened, and he couldn't help but...

"Master, how do you know that little guy is alive?"

"Surviving by drowning is different from dying from illness or old age."

"That breath came back from the water, and his internal organs were still fine. He wasn't too frozen stiff. We quickly breathed him back up and sent his heart, liver, and kidneys back to him, and he woke up."

"Once it cools down and freezes solid, it'll be too late to save it."

"The little bit of water in the lungs can't be lifted much even if you turn it upside down; instead, it will crush the heart, liver, and spleen, making it impossible for air to enter."

"They should have pounded their chests and blown air into them, but instead they lifted and swung them upside down, which actually cured the illness instead of the illness itself."

"Treating a good person and making them sick is worse than having a disease itself."

Aji seemed to understand, but he remembered those words firmly.

The boy's family lived in the south of the city and ran a small wonton stall.

Poor.

Yang Hu accepted the money.

The next day at noon, the man who sold wontons carried his load to the entrance of the clinic. He tremblingly served Yang Hu two large bowls of hot wontons, saying with a blushing face, "It's not worth much, it's just a token."

Yang Hu accepted it.

Two steaming hot bowls—this was the most heartfelt gift the wonton vendor could offer in gratitude.

Back at the clinic, it was getting dark.

Lu Yan helped him tidy up the messy medicine cabinet after a day's work, and then glanced back at him.

"Young Master, you've wasted your time again today!"

"I'm a poor person, I'm embarrassed to accept money."

Yang Hu sat at the table.

Lu Rou tapped the abacus in her hand, wrote "gift" in the ledger, and then added the cost of the two tranquilizers. Every single transaction was meticulously handled by her.

Liu Ye had just returned from the medicinal herb garden outside the city, with two freshly hunted rabbits on the stove. Hearing this, she laughed.

Qin Ying sat by the window, a knife resting on her lap.

"Pound the chest and blow air into that little brat whose eyes are lifeless."

She glanced at Yang Hu.

"Everyone along the river thinks you're crazy."

"He knew that person wasn't dead."

They thought he was dead.

She sheathed her knife, offering no reply. Under the lamplight, she turned her face away, but her shoulders relaxed.

In the evening, I opened the account book.

It was still dark at the Zhao residence.

too dark!

Having suffered a setback in the street, Zhao Yanei shouldn't be so calm. This unusual quietness is even more unsettling than if he had come to their door in the street.

He's the kind of person who can rescue people from the water and even capture the King of Hell.

However, some things cannot be solved by saving lives.