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

The young master's eyes lingered between Yang Hu and the knife for a long time.

On the bed, his father convulsed again, screamed, and curled up in a ball.

That one word signified making a decision.

"Help!" He turned around abruptly, grabbing Yang Hu's arm. "Dr. Yang, do whatever you say. My father's life is in your hands!"

"Young Master!!"

The white-bearded old doctor hurriedly squeezed past, his beard trembling as if blown by the wind.

"Absolutely not! Cutting him open like that? This has never happened before! A young kid, still a kid at heart, what would he know? One cut, and my old man would be gone right now. Then, not only would we not get the money, but we'd lose our lives and wouldn't even have anywhere to turn to!"

"Exactly!" Another doctor chimed in, pleading his case. "We've been practicing medicine for decades, and we all say it's a death sentence. Is my nephew stupid? Why would he listen to that itinerant doctor's sweet talk?"

Inside the warm pavilion, the Wei family members who had been waiting in the outer room also became restless.

A man dressed in a black silk robe with a long front pushed his way out. He was probably in his late fifties, with a fair complexion and no beard, but his eyes were filled with deep hatred. He was the younger brother of Old Master Wei and the current second master of the Wei family.

"Nephew," he said, not tall, but with a heavy voice, "who is your father? Even the prefect has to call him 'Uncle.' How could his life be entrusted to some clueless quack doctor to chop off with a knife? If word got out, where would the Wei family's face be?"

He glanced at Yang Hu sideways and curled his lip.

"I think he's just using the guise of treating a patient to squeeze some money out of the Wei family. If he cures the patient, he'll reward them handsomely; if he doesn't, he'll just walk away. Do you think this lowly peasant can afford to take my brother's life?"

He spoke with such certainty that instantly everyone in the room turned their attention to Yang Hu.

This time, there was wariness and hostility in his eyes.

The young master was startled by what he said, and loosened his grip on Yang Hu's hand.

A white-haired old man by the bed finally couldn't hold back any longer and knelt down with a thud.

"Young Master!!" he cried out, "This old servant has served the old master for 40 years. So many doctors have been consulted in the city, and even last night until now, they all said to prepare for the worst, that they were going to die anyway. Why didn't they believe in this Doctor Yang and give it a shot? If the old master dies like this, this old servant... this old servant... I won't have the face to see him again!"

This kneeling and crying actually brought him to tears.

"Shut up!!" Master Wei Er cursed fiercely, "A servant dares to stir up trouble and incite his master to gamble with his life."

Inside the warm room, some were crying, some were trying to comfort each other, and there was a huge argument.

Yang Hu's expression remained unchanged.

He had long known that it was impossible for him to easily take action against such a family. Master Wei's words were half true, because he was genuinely afraid of taking responsibility, and half for other reasons, because after Old Master Wei passed away, he would be in charge of the property of such a large family.

But none of this concerns him!

"Second Master doesn't believe me?" Yang Hu spoke up. "I'll just write a written agreement..."

The room fell silent.

"A written agreement?!" Master Wei narrowed his eyes.

"If I can't cure the old man by operating on him tonight, I'll tell you, I, Yang, will come back with my head. This life is for the old man. And all you doctors, please be my witnesses." As he spoke, he looked up at the pale-faced doctors. "Didn't you say it was a terminal illness? Then sign it saying 'helpless, beyond saving.'"

The doctors' faces immediately turned blue and purple.

If you sign the document as a witness, it's like writing on a blank piece of paper that you're a useless person. But if you don't sign, what was that whole "deadly disease, even a god can't cure you" thing about?

Yang Hu risked his life for this move, only to turn the tables and slap them in the face.

"Bring me pen and ink," Yang Hu said calmly.

The young master, as if startled by this calm demeanor or perhaps grasping at a straw, gritted his teeth. "Bring me pen and ink!"

After finishing writing the characters, Yang Hu picked up the brush, wrote his name, and then pressed the seal firmly.

The doctors were all forced to the table by the young master, and after some hesitation, they pressed their handprints on the ground, feigning helplessness.

Master Wei's face turned black.

But Yang Hu stopped looking at him and rolled up his clothes. Looking at the group of people in the big room, he suddenly changed his expression and issued an order.

"There are too many people in the room, and the air is foul. Get out, get out."

"Leave two quick-witted people to boil a pot of water, preferably until it boils. Then prepare a jar of the strongest liquor."

"And the doors and windows of this room, wipe them thoroughly with boiling water."

Everyone in the room was stunned.

If you're trying to cure an illness, why boil water to wipe the doors and windows?

Yang Hu didn't bother to explain to them. In his world, the first thing to consider when using a knife is "cleanliness." The knife must be clean, the hands must be clean, and even the space around the knife must be spotless. Not a single piece of trash is allowed in. If it gets dirty, the cut will rot and fester, which is much worse than an intestinal abscess.

He didn't waste his breath on these idiots; they probably wouldn't listen anyway.

While giving instructions, he subtly recorded in his mind everyone he saw entering and leaving the house. Treating the illness was the obvious thing, but he needed to see clearly what kind of network of connections this Wei family mansion had, and what kind of entanglements everyone had with each other.

Everyone had left, and apart from the young master, two servants who boiled water, and the sullen-looking young medicine boy, there was no one else in the huge house.

Yang Hu took out a small paper packet from his medicine box. Inside were several kinds of herbs that had been ground into powder. He had brought them with him along the way. It was a kind of medicine that could make people sleep without feeling pain.

Dosage is the hardest thing to control. Too little, and the person will writhe in pain, making it impossible to cut; too much, and they'll collapse and never get up again!

There was some medicinal powder mixed into that bowl of wine, which I personally gave to the old man to drink.

Before long, the old man, who had been in so much pain that blood was flowing from his seven orifices and whose body was curled up into a ball, gradually calmed down, his brows relaxed, and he actually fell asleep.

The young master, watching from the side, felt his heart pounding: "Dr. Yang, my father..."

"He's asleep," Yang Hujing said, rubbing his hands. "This cut will hurt. Let him wake up before moving him."

The knife, boiled in hot water, gleamed with a blinding cold light under the candlelight.

The strong liquor was poured over the knife and over his hands, the pungent chill penetrating to his very bones.

The young apprentice silently laid out the towels, silver needles, and hemp thread that he had used, which had been boiled and scalded, one by one beside him.

Qin Ying lowered her head, her hand handing over the equipment remaining perfectly steady.

But only she knew how tightly she clenched her fists, hidden in her sleeves, as she watched him stake his life and his name on this piece of paper and a knife.

I've seen so many wounds on the battlefield; those are from killing!

This person, holding a knife, was about to snatch someone from the clutches of the King of Hell.

After cleaning his hands, Yang Hujing turned around and glanced at the sleeping old man.

With this cut, the flesh is torn apart, the fat is ripped away, and the rotten, gaping section is found inside that tangled mess of intestines. It is then chopped off, the filth that has leaked out is cleaned up bit by bit, and then it is sewn back together layer by layer.

One wrong step and you're dead!

He went through the process in his mind over and over again, from beginning to end, where his fingers should land, how the knife should cut, which part should be done quickly, and which part should be done slowly... He could go through these things a thousand times with his eyes closed.

The lamp flame flickered.

He looked down and saw a hard, plank-like area on the old man's lower right abdomen.

The whole room was completely silent.

The young master covered his mouth tightly, his big eyes bulging out. The doctors who had signed the papers by the door looked at each other, holding their breath, their eyes revealing whether they wanted him to succeed or fail.

The tip of the knife touched the skin.

Yang Hu's wrist sank slightly.

A thin trickle of blood slowly flowed down the blade.