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

One knife fell!

Yang Hu held his breath, his fingers extremely steady, and slowly, bit by bit, he cut off the black and rotten intestines from the joint between the two pieces of good flesh.

This strike depends on your finger.

If you cut too much, you'll damage the healthy tissue, and the person will never be able to digest food properly again; if you cut too little, there will still be a little bit of bad tissue inside, and all the pain tonight will have been for nothing. Cut inch by inch, keeping your eyes fixed on the color of the intestines—from black to purple, to the faint red of fresh blood... Stop when you see the healthy tissue.

Blood was gushing out. One hand pressed a towel scalded with boiling water tightly against the bleeding spot, while the other hand quickly cleared away the surrounding objects. There were no readily available hemostatic items, so the bleeding slowly decreased thanks to the weight of the towel on the hand.

The more pressure you apply, the more blood you lose; even a second more pressure will cause the elderly person to lose even more blood. If you can't apply pressure, the surgery will be ruined.

It's finally done.

The rotten intestines were pulled out and placed in a clay pot to the side. The stench was unbearable, and the young master couldn't help but feel nauseous at the sight, turning his face away, unable to bear looking at it again. The doctors at the door who had signed the agreement didn't dare to breathe loudly either.

The hardest step has arrived.

Is it over once it's cut off? There's still everything else to follow!

Will everything be fine once it's cut off?

The severed ends of the intestines must be sewn back together tightly! If sewn too tightly, they'll break the strings; if sewn too loosely, the poisonous contents inside will leak out, and then it's truly all over. Every stitch must be perfect.

In his home, he had plenty of tools and skills to work with, even for a simple needle and thread. But here, he could only use his own needle and thread, which had been singed and soaked in strong liquor.

Yang Hu took it, holding the fine needle that had been scorched and soaked in wine, and replaced it with the finest silk thread.

He lowered his head, almost touching the blade.

"One", "Two".

With fine, even thread, he stitched the two severed intestines together, one by one. He would pause after each stitch, waiting to find the right spot before making the next.

The young apprentice, dressed in a greyish turban, knelt beside him, using a clean cloth to cover the sides of his wounds and wipe away the blood, while handing him what he needed. Qin Ying's breathing was also very light and slow, as if afraid of startling the other man.

She had worked as a doctor in the army, stitching up wounds for others, even helping soldiers who had fallen from the city walls, their skin torn and bleeding. But those were just muscles and flesh, stitched with thick needles and thread, sewing up visible areas. Now, however, she was to sew up the tangled mess of intestines in the abdomen, reconnecting two severed intestines section by section. What kind of skill was this? She had never imagined it, and the hand that handed her the needle felt somewhat unfamiliar.

I don't know how much time passed, but the two severed intestines were finally stitched together perfectly, without any trace of being cut.

Yang Hu continued without stopping...

So he brought over another bowl of hot water and washed and wiped away the sticky, greasy mess from his belly again and again.

This is the hardest part; you can't rush it.

There wasn't a trace of turbidity left; the previous cut was as if it had been made in vain! He washed very slowly and meticulously, even carefully removing the turbidity from the folds of the intestines.

Only when no more turbidity could be found in his stomach did he straighten his body, which had been bent over for several hours.

His back ached so much he could barely stand up. Only then did he realize that the clothes on his back were soaked with sweat and felt icy cold against his skin.

Finally, he sutured the abdominal wall.

When performing the cesarean section, he peeled back the layers one by one, and when sewing it back up, he stitched it back up stitch by stitch from the inside out. He knew exactly what each layer was, what its depth was, and so on. He changed his needle and thread and stitched the incision back up tightly, layer by layer, from the inside out.

Finally, he finished with a single stitch and cut it off.

The entire warm chamber was so quiet that you could hear the candles crackling.

Yang Hu extended a finger and placed it on the old man's pulse.

That pulse...

It's actually a bit sturdier than when I was cutting it.

Although it is still very weak, it will no longer dissipate as quickly as if it were blown away by the wind.

His heart, which had been pounding with anxiety, finally felt much more at ease.

We've survived the most dangerous hurdle.

Looking at the old face that was asleep but no longer contorted in pain, my tense mind relaxed considerably.

This illness is not a terminal one at all. It's just that the climate here is bitterly cold, and no good doctor has been able to see the root of the problem. This is why an illness that could be cured with a single surgery has dragged on until tonight, when he is on the verge of death. By staying up one more night, he is not only saving an old man on his bed, but also saving the hope of this family.

There are only three days left. We still have to keep breathing.

"Are you alright?" The young master, trembling uncontrollably, grabbed his arm. "Is my father...is he alright?"

"I've made it halfway through!" He washed his hands, his voice filled with undisguised exhaustion, but he was certain, "The rotten parts have been cut off, the pus and blood have been drained, and the incision has been stitched up. I've made it through this surgery."

He paused, and his face once again turned frosty.

"The rest depends on the next three days."

"The wound must not come into contact with anything dirty. I will come to change his dressings myself for the next three days. He cannot eat or drink anything; he can only moisten his mouth with a clean cloth dampened with warm water. Most importantly... he cannot get a fever! As long as he doesn't develop a high fever for these three days and the wound doesn't continue to fester, the old man's life will be completely saved."

The young master was about to kneel down to thank his savior when Yang Hu pulled him up. The old servant by the bed, his hair completely white, kowtowed three times to Yang Hu.

The few doctors by the door exchanged glances, their gloating expressions long gone. Cut open the stomach, removed the intestines, and yet the patient could still breathe? Could he still twitch? Had these been seasoned veterans for decades ever heard of such a thing?

The shouts of "sorcery that has killed me" from just now are now stuck in my throat, and I can't utter a single word.

Meanwhile, Master Wei, who had been waiting outside with a gloomy face, saw that the person on the bed had already fainted, and that his breathing and pulse were gradually stabilizing. His expression changed constantly, and in the end, unable to say anything, he turned around and left.

Yang Hu glanced at his sinister face, but felt completely calm.

When his elder brother was on his deathbed, he wished he were dead; but now that he saw him alive and slowly regaining his vitality, the second master's expression became even more terrifying.

This is about how deep the water is in the Wei mansion!

However, this happened three days later.

He tucked the old man's clothes and blankets back in, gave some more instructions to the night watchman, and then carried the box out.

The young man followed closely behind her, tidying up his tools. Having not slept all night, the girl's cheeks were covered in a layer of ash powder, making her look even more haggard.

But she still handled the blood-stained needle and thread with remarkable steadiness. Yang Hu watched her, saying nothing.

That night, in the most dangerous place, without her steady help, he doesn't know where he would have died.

Outside the window, the snow had stopped sometime earlier, and a pale light appeared on the eastern horizon...

"My written agreement," Yang Hu said, glancing back at the doctors before looking at the young master of the house. His tone was calm, but every word was clear. "Does it still stand?"

"Within three days, the old man was able to walk again!"

Everyone in the room stared at the young doctor who hadn't slept all night, yet whose shoulders remained taut; no one dared to speak.

No one knows whether this seemingly absurd claim is just another crazy rant or will actually come true.