Although the night was deep within the Imperial Palace, it remained brightly lit with lanterns and candles.

Li Tong hurriedly retreated from the great hall, and the four or five officials standing under the gallery stopped their conversation.

“Lord Li, His Majesty…” an elderly official asked in a low voice.

Li Tong waved his hand and shook his head.

Everyone understood—this meant His Majesty was not in a good mood.

“Lord Li, you’ve worked hard.” Everyone said in low voices, thanking him for the reminder.

Only by accurately gauging His Majesty’s mood at this moment could they know what words were appropriate to say and what words must not be said, lest one wrong word ruin their entire lives.

So sometimes, one must not underestimate even the reminder of a single glance.

Once, a high-ranking official offended an inner court attendant and was misled by him into saying something inappropriate, causing the Emperor to literally kick this Third Rank official out of the capital.

Li Tong hurriedly bowed respectfully and took his leave.

Watching him depart, everyone’s faces showed both admiration and envy.

The old Li family truly had good fortune—this young man, honest and straightforward despite his youth, had actually gained His Majesty’s favor.

Several coughs came from within the doors.

Everyone quickly straightened their expressions.

Immediately after, the palace doors opened again.

“Honorable officials, please enter,” said a eunuch walking out.

Compared to his attitude toward Li Tong, his demeanor was much more indifferent.

Everyone filed in orderly.

On the high dragon throne, the Emperor appeared calm, with even a faint smile at the corners of his mouth, looking at the documents in his hands, seemingly not noticing or hearing these people enter.

Everyone already knew His Majesty was in a poor mood, so none dared speak, standing respectfully with lowered heads.

“You look, all of you look—Bailiu Pass has actually fallen… Are all these people I’ve raised nothing but waste?”

After a long while, the Emperor’s voice drifted down from above.

Though the voice was light, everyone present felt as if a heavy weight pressed down upon them.

“Your subjects deserve ten thousand deaths…” Everyone hurriedly bowed and said.

Before they could finish speaking, there was a sharp “plop” sound.

The document had already been thrown by the Emperor onto the ground, sliding to their feet.

“Don’t rush. And don’t scramble. Those who failed in their duties, those who were defeated in battle—all deserve death, one by one.”

The Emperor said coldly.

The officials below immediately broke into cold sweat.

The border warfare and the Emperor’s fury quickly spread throughout, causing all departmental officials to become trembling with fear, avoiding touching His Majesty’s ill temper at this time.

Dong Lin gleefully poured himself a cup of wine.

“Sir, why are you so happy?” Wu Shan asked carefully.

Dong Lin immediately darkened his face.

“Who said I’m happy? Where did I look happy!” he scolded with a stern face.

This boy really had no sense—the Emperor was currently unhappy, yet you say I’m happy? Aren’t you trying to bring me bad luck?

Wu Shan was startled, knowing he had said the wrong thing, and quickly retreated with his head lowered, mumbling submissively.

It was time to send this boy away, Dong Lin thought irritably as he spit out a breath, his gaze falling on several memorial reports on the table.

In a few more days, when these reports are submitted…

You look. You look—isn’t this Heaven itself unable to bear watching anymore?

Dong Lin couldn’t help but reveal a trace of a smile, but quickly restrained it, picking up his wine cup and draining it in one gulp.

Looking at the rolling dust clouds outside the city gate, the soldiers on the city wall all burst into cheers.

“General Chang’s reinforcements have arrived!”

The defending soldiers came out to welcome them, seeing the entering army along with the heavily loaded supply wagons. Everyone was extremely excited.

Chang Yuncheng galloped forward surrounded by his personal guards, his armor dull, his handsome face haggard. Seeing the crowd bowing before him, he quickly dismounted.

“Spare the idle talk. Quickly raise the command tent,” he said straightforwardly.

The men and horses in the street dispersed in surging waves. The soldiers who came to receive them noticed that besides the grain and supply wagons, there were actually four carriages following behind. These people were not wearing military uniforms but white robes, looking quite strange. As they watched, they saw the front carriage’s curtain lift as a person jumped down, also wearing white robes, but clearly a woman in form.

A woman!

The city’s civilians had all retreated, leaving only soldiers here with no other people, let alone women!

Before everyone could express surprise or inquire, gongs and drums sounded.

“The Tartars are coming!”

Everyone surged away, no longer paying attention to them.

“Set up the tents!” Qi Yue shouted loudly.

Amid the chaotic responses, several support soldiers quickly pulled stakes, ropes, and tent cloth from the carriages. Through several rounds of coordination, from initial confusion to now being able to work busily but orderly, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, three camp tents were erected on the city’s open ground—white tents with large red characters, particularly conspicuous.

At the same time, other support soldiers rushed into the houses on both sides of the street.

“Wounded soldier placement requisition!” they shouted loudly.

While planting flags marked with the character for “medicine” at the doorways.

As the tents were being set up, fifteen disciples had already shouldered their medicine boxes, their arms and waists densely wrapped with various colored cloth strips. Behind them, another dozen support soldiers lifted stretchers.

“Quickly, quickly,” Hu San shouted loudly.

“Pay attention to safety!” Qi Yue shouted loudly.

The disciples responded in unison and marched toward the city gate in formation.

“Operating room preparation complete,” A’Hao called out in a raised voice.

Qi Yue withdrew her gaze from the direction the disciples had departed, raising her hand.

“Prepare for surgery,” she said, entering a tent marked with a large red character for “medicine.”

Zhang Tong and Liu Pucheng had already put on gloves and masks.

“Master, let me handle the second-level injuries this time,” Zhang Tong called out.

Liu Pucheng glanced at him, nodded, and entered the tent marked with a green character for “medicine.”

Crossbow bolts fell like rain.

Four or five support soldiers rushed forward with shields raised, pulling down two wounded soldiers.

Qiao Minghua rushed over, skillfully cutting open the wounded soldier’s clothing. These arrow wounds were all too familiar to him—large and heavy, with multi-grooved arrowheads deeply embedded in the soldier’s body. Such large wounds couldn’t even be sutured. He quickly sprinkled medicinal powder, but the blood immediately washed it away. Qiao Minghua picked up a knife and in two or three strokes opened the wounded soldier’s wound wider. Accompanied by heart-rending screams, the wounded soldier rolled on the ground.

This pain was a hundred times worse than the arrow wound.

The support soldiers and military doctors were all busy, with no extra hands to restrain the wounded soldier. Qiao Minghua’s treatment was interrupted, but he was accustomed to this. Without hesitation, he pounced forward again, pulled out the arrowhead, and wrapped the wound with cloth.

Blood still gushed out.

“Carry him down,” Qiao Minghua said.

Because more wounded soldiers were being brought in.

As for this wounded soldier who was still bleeding—this counted as completed treatment. Whether he could save his life after being carried away depended on his fortune.

Just then, something seemed to change nearby.

A wounded soldier was dragged down, and when Qiao Minghua was about to get up, someone rushed over ahead of him.

Qiao Minghua turned his head to look and was stunned.

This was not a familiar comrade, but a strange young man.

Wearing conspicuous white robes with red bands on his arms, his mouth and nose covered with white cloth. His eyes were focused at this moment, his movements efficient.

He was doing the same thing as himself, but also different.

He was also stopping bleeding and bandaging, but didn’t pull out the arrowhead. Instead, he took out a spouted vessel to spray water, skillfully binding the wound. The bandaging white cloth was wide and dense, and finally there was a strange wooden stick that he twisted hard twice. The gushing blood immediately lessened.

The young man finally pulled off a yellow cloth strip from his waist, tied it to the wounded soldier’s arm, and then rushed toward the next one.

Support soldiers followed behind, lifting the wounded soldier and carrying him away.

This was…

Qiao Minghua was stunned.

“Sir, who are these people?” a military doctor asked in surprise. “Are they requisitioned physicians?”

Qiao Minghua didn’t speak. He thought of something, his eyes showing surprise. He slowly stood up, then saw that along the long city wall, somehow many such men had surged around them.

They were too easy to identify—all wearing white robes with red cloth bands.

“Lord Zhou, Lord Zhou, you look, you look,” a soldier shouted loudly.

Zhou Maochun, also fitted with armor, was in no good mood.

“Look at what? Look at how my daughter was killed by that bastard?” he shouted loudly, then glared at the soldier, “You go down right now and bring my daughter up!”

The soldier ignored him, only looking below the city wall.

“Sir, they look so good saving people,” the soldier murmured.

Zhou Maochun’s anger flared even more.

Good-looking?!

When did saving people become good-looking?

What was there to see? Having watched this several times along the way, he was about to die of anger.

Chickens flying and dogs jumping, chaotic and noisy—where were they any better than those military doctors! Simply embarrassing! And useless! What was so special about these battlefield wounds! Any doctor—no, any person could do this!

Wasting time! And wasting lives!

Zhou Maochun angrily looked down, then slowly became stunned.

One by one, white figures—their movements were swift, bandaging was fast, carrying away was fast, so fast it was somewhat dizzying, somewhat suffocating.

How was this different from the previous times?

How could it be so fast!

How was it possible to be so fast!

How did it become so fast?!

The city wall’s defending general also noticed.

“Who are those people?” he rarely allowed himself to be distracted to ask.

“They’re doctors brought by General Chang,” his personal guards answered.

“Doctors?” the defending general frowned, “Why do they look so strange…”

As he spoke, his gaze cast downward. Looking down from the high city wall, his expression gradually became surprised.

How did these doctors’ actions look so…

Familiar…

It was as if they had received deliberate training, just like military formations—appearing chaotic but extremely orderly…

Others might not be able to tell, but as a general, he could see it at a glance.

Doctors? He had never seen military doctors treat patients like this…

Could it be that they weren’t actually treating these wounded soldiers at all? Just passing them through their hands before carrying them away?

But when those support soldiers ran by carrying stretchers, everyone still noticed that the wounded soldiers on the stretchers had been bandaged. Looking further into the distance, they could see these stretchers flowing like water toward one direction, where there were clearly three camp tents. These stretchers, though appearing chaotic, were entering different tents in an orderly fashion.

The busy soldiers and doctors in the midst of it couldn’t see clearly, but standing on the city wall, looking down from above, they could clearly see what kind of scene these white-robed people were creating.

They didn’t look like people! They looked like flowing water! Continuously flowing water! Omnipresent flowing water! Rapidly flowing water!

White water flowing behind the battlefield! Continuously flowing! Carrying those wounded, fading lives toward the hope of survival!

“Sir, sir, look!” Several military doctors were dumbfounded. They forgot what they were supposed to be doing, staring blankly at these white figures around them, unable to help shouting.

Qiao Minghua was also staring blankly at these people.

When had those seemingly chaotic drills actually become like this?

Or rather, those seemingly ridiculous drills, on the battlefield, were actually like this…

Dazzling and mesmerizing!

That rhythm, that coordination, that fluidity!

It seemed that no matter how many wounded soldiers there were, they could easily handle the treatment!

At this bloody, cruel moment, in Qiao Minghua’s rationally numb mind, a strange word that shouldn’t have appeared suddenly surfaced.

Like floating clouds and flowing water!

Qiao Minghua’s body trembled, his pores opening wide.

You look!

You look!

All of you look!