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

The small, black sedan chair, braving the wind and snow, was carried all the way into the north of the city.

Yang Hu lifted the curtain, revealing a grand mansion with vermilion gates and two stone lions buried in the snow in front of the gate, which was even more imposing than the Zhou family's mansion.

The steward came out to greet them, dressed in a fine silk robe. He glanced at Yang Hu from head to toe, his brows almost furrowing.

"You're the one from the east side of the city..."

He was somewhat hesitant to use the title "doctor".

Yang Hu wasn't annoyed; he'd seen that kind of look far too many times along the way. A doctor in his early twenties coming to such a wealthy family to treat a terminal illness—anyone would be suspicious at first glance.

Yang Hu followed the steward inside. Underfoot was a clean bluestone path with deep corridors and courtyards on both sides.

"Our old master is one of the most prominent men in the city."

The steward walked along, whispering a reminder, half-tapping and half-admonishing, "He was also registered in the prefecture back then, but he retired later. Even the prefect calls him 'Uncle' with great respect. Doctor Yang, be careful when you see patients later."

Yang Hu nodded, but his footsteps made him memorize every door, corridor, and intersection along the way.

He recalled Qin Ying's words from last night: "This place is even more powerful than the Prefect's mansion. It's a local tyrant that even the Prefect gives it some respect to. It's well-known that the government is open about its ways, but the intricacies of this mansion are something he has to keep an eye on secretly. His reason for coming here is to seek medical treatment, which gives him a perfect opportunity to openly stroll around this deep and secluded mansion."

Inside, in a warm room, heavy curtains blocked the outside, and the smell of medicine, sweat, and an indescribable fishy smell wafted out.

The person lying on the couch was over 60 years old, dressed in brocade, but his face was pale and bluish.

He clutched his lower abdomen, curled up in a ball, cold sweat cascading down his forehead, and gasped for breath. Sometimes, a sharp pain would strike, and he would writhe on the ground, his two servants holding him firmly on the shoulders.

"Father, Father, please bear with it a little longer!"

Beside him was a middle-aged man who looked like the second young master of the family. His double eyelids were red and swollen, and he seemed extremely anxious, unsure of what to do.

"I didn't eat or drink all night, and I was in so much pain I felt like I was dying."

His voice trembled as he spoke, "I've invited every famous doctor in the city, one by one, from last night until now, but they still haven't been able to stop the pain!"

Three or four people were sitting on the tatami mat.

The leader among them was an old man with a full head of white hair, who was a well-known doctor in the city.

He was stroking his beard and shaking his head repeatedly.

"Intestinal colic!"

He sighed, "My stomach and intestines are in a mess, and evil has entered my heart. I have been practicing medicine for over 40 years, and this disease is beyond the help of even a god. Young master, you should make plans as soon as possible."

The person next to him chimed in, "I think you bumped into something unclean. You should find a master to exorcise it."

Sure enough, on the wall, there was a shaman squatting down, ringing a bell, his eyes closed, chanting incantations.

The young mistress of the house was deathly pale. She grabbed Yang Hu's hand tightly: "We've brought all the famous doctors in the city, and they all say there's no hope! Doctor Yang, please... please take a look at me!"

Yang Hu did not answer immediately.

Everyone else was frantic, but he remained calm.

He walked over and felt the pulse. The pulse was extremely fast, erratic and rapid. He then examined the old man's tongue and eyes; the tongue coating was yellow and greasy, hard and prickly.

He then squatted down and gently placed one hand on the old man's abdomen.

The old man's belly was as hard as a wooden board.

As soon as he pressed down, the old man let out a loud howl like a pig being slaughtered. When he lifted his hand away in an instant, the old man screamed even louder and curled up even tighter.

His eyebrows twitched.

"Master, this pain," he asked the young master, "was it first around your navel, and then it only moved to your lower right side after about half an hour?"

The young master was taken aback: "Really...that's right! Yesterday afternoon he was only complaining of pain in his navel, but it moved to his right side around midnight, and he said he wouldn't let anyone touch it. Doctor, how did you know?"

Yang Hu had a plan in mind.

This is neither colic nor possession by evil spirits, but rather an intestinal abscess.

The old man developed a carbuncle on the lower right side of his abdomen, which then festered and became infected. He didn't seek medical attention for a day, and now it has probably festered and perforated, with pus and toxins flowing into his abdomen, making his entire abdomen hard as a board.

If this disease were in his original location, it would have a common name: get surgery as soon as possible, and he could recover in a couple of days. However, once it progresses to the point of perforation and oozing toxic fluid, it becomes a task that nine out of ten people cannot complete.

The most terrifying thing is that this is the border region. There are no sterile knives, no painless anesthetics, and not a decent house. Performing this surgery is like picking someone up from the jaws of death, and it's also risking half of your own life. But at this moment, this gamble is the old man's last chance for survival.

"It's not colic," Yang Hu stood up, his voice low. "It's an intestinal abscess. A section of the intestine has ruptured, and pus is flowing into the stomach. If we don't do something soon, he'll be dead tonight."

The white-bearded doctor paused for a moment, then sneered, "Intestinal abscess, young doctor, do you even know that? Since ancient times, intestinal abscesses with ulceration have always been fatal. What can you possibly do about it?"

All eyes in the room immediately turned to Yang Hu.

The "medicine boy" behind Yang Hu, who was wiping dust and shrugging, lowered his head and quietly opened the medicine box for him.

He is Qin Ying.

But with her eyelids drooping, she quickly glanced at everyone in the warm pavilion.

Once you enter unfamiliar territory, those who have led troops should not focus on others, but on how they themselves can escape unscathed!

This house requires women to be even more careful than ordinary homes in the city.

The man she needed to protect was the one lying on the floor in front of her bed, who paid no heed to the dangers lurking around her in the room.

"It's curable," Yang Hu said, "but this disease can't be treated with oral medication. The pus in the abdomen won't dissolve with medicine."

He paused again, then finished speaking, word by word.

"Only by opening the abdomen, cutting out the rotten part of the intestines, and draining the pus from the stomach can a person have a chance to live."

The warm room was quiet for a while.

Then it's like pouring a bowl of cold water into a pot of boiling water.

"Open...open the gut?!"

"To operate on a living person?! Is this treating an illness or murder?"

The white-bearded old man was so angry his beard was trembling. He pointed at Yang Hu and said, "Absurd! Pangu created the world, how could anyone have surgery and have their intestines opened and still survive!"

"A perfectly healthy patient, and you cut him with that knife! If word gets out, people will gossip about you!" Another doctor chimed in.

The young master's expression kept changing. He stared at Yang Hu, then turned to look at his dying father in front of him, his lips trembling so much that he couldn't utter a single word.

Disembowelment! This is a monstrous technique that I've never even heard of before, one that guarantees certain death!

If they didn't open it, they would have watched helplessly as their father died that very night!

With this strike, will he be a miracle worker, or will his entire clan be slaughtered?

Nobody understands.

Yang Hu stood there, ignoring the panicked doctors, and looked only at the young master of the household, his calm voice showing no fluctuation.

"Trust me, with this surgery, the old man will be able to get out of bed and walk in three days."

He looked up at the doctors who were still shouting and yelling, then his tone turned serious.

"If you don't believe them, start digging the burial pit right now."

The room was completely silent.

The snow was pattering against the window.

The young master's eyes darted back and forth over the knife in front of Yang Hu, a knife that could be used at any moment.

On one side is her own father's life.

On the other side, a doctor who was not yet twenty years old uttered a statement even more bizarre than that of the shaman with the copper bell.