The sounds of battle thundered in their ears.

Casualties were never something that concerned the generals, and they quickly shifted their gaze away, but Qiao Minghua and Zhou Maochun did not, nor did the other military doctors.

They continued staring blankly at everything happening before them.

It wasn’t that they had forgotten their duties, but rather that they were completely unable to help, even vaguely feeling like they would be getting in the way.

Look at these doctors, look at how smoothly they coordinated with each other, like a perfect, flawless pearl necklace. If they joined in, it would be like destroying this beauty.

Without them, the treatment wasn’t affected in any way. As the battle progressed and the wounded increased, these doctors’ treatment never became chaotic or stagnant.

What a shocking and shameful feeling!

How was this possible!

These doctors daring to come to the battlefield was already shocking enough! Yet they could actually do better than them!

What was going on here!

How did they suddenly appear!

How did all this happen!

They just stood there dumbly, no longer knowing what to do or think.

The wounded were continuously given initial bandaging and then carried away.

A soldier had his leg pierced through by a spear. If this were in the hands of Qiao Minghua and the others, they wouldn’t bother with it anymore. Of course, it wasn’t that they didn’t want to save him, but that they couldn’t.

But with several “crack” sounds, the doctor in white robes—no, at this point they could no longer be called white robes, but flowered clothes stained with blood and mud—cut through the spear shaft. Again there was that tourniquet binding, a red cloth strip tied on, and then he swiftly departed.

Behind him, the constantly running stretcher bearers surged forward in a batch, lifted this person, and rushed toward the rear.

A figure suddenly chased after them.

This brought the doctors back to their senses.

“Sir…” they couldn’t help calling out.

Qiao Minghua heard nothing else, only watching this stretcher, staring intently at this wounded soldier.

How to save him?

Could he really be saved?

This was impossible! This was absolutely impossible!

Everyone was running, no one was talking. No one communicated or introduced the wounded soldiers’ conditions, yet each intuitively entered different tents.

Qiao Minghua glanced around. The tent before him was marked with large red characters, and compared to the two beside it, there were fewer wounded here.

The stretcher went in. Inside were two strange, high beds, both with wounded soldiers lying on them.

“Move the bed!” Qi Yue shouted.

Accompanied by the sounds of “one, two, three,” the wounded soldier on one bed was supported by four people with a white sheet and moved to the stretcher. Without stopping, they rushed out.

Qiao Minghua stepped aside to let them pass, watching this wounded soldier whose head and face were wrapped in layers of white cloth, with a strange tube inserted into his arm. The other end of the tube was connected to a porcelain bottle, held by one of the support soldiers. They rushed out and ran toward a nearby room.

The sound of rustling made Qiao Minghua turn his gaze again. He saw the girl who always accompanied Lady Qi spread a white sheet on the now-empty bed.

The wounded soldier from the stretcher with the pierced thigh was lifted onto it.

During this entire process, no one even said a word. Everyone seemed to have telepathic understanding, every movement coordinated seamlessly.

Like floating clouds and flowing water…

Qiao Minghua again had this phrase flash through his mind. He watched as that woman didn’t come over, but remained at the other wounded soldier’s bedside, busy with her head lowered, using strange scissors and needle and thread, her needle flying at the wounded soldier’s chest.

Was she alone?

So there was no way to save them all…

Qiao Minghua’s gaze turned to the wounded soldier just placed on the bed. The girl was using scissors to cut away his clothing, then picked up a strange tool and inserted the gleaming needle point into the wounded soldier’s thigh.

Acupuncture?

But how had that yellow liquid disappeared?

After doing this, A’Ru began using large amounts of water and high-concentration alcohol to repeatedly wash the wounded soldier’s thigh wound and every wound on his body. Large clumps of white cotton quickly turned blood-colored and accumulated on the ground.

A support soldier quickly put those contaminated cotton balls into a bag.

Was this why this place looked so clean?

At a time like this, they still cared about this?!

Qiao Minghua stared in shock, eyes wide.

“Move the bed!”

The woman shouted again. The four support soldiers who had been standing around moved just as before, transferring the wounded soldier from this bed to a stretcher and rushing toward the door.

At the same time, the stretcher that had been waiting outside came in.

The woman quickly removed the deerskin gloves that reached her elbows, turned to rinse her hands in a nearby jar, pulled out gloves from the rack above and put them on, then stood ready at this side’s wounded soldier.

This series of movements flowed seamlessly. The placement of items had been practiced until it couldn’t be more familiar, every step without a single unnecessary movement.

As Qi Yue moved over, the wounded soldier from the newly entered stretcher was placed on the just-vacated bed, and the girl began the same actions as before—cutting open clothing, inserting the strange needle, cleaning wounds.

Fast! Fast! Fast enough to be dizzying!

Qiao Minghua felt like he was suffocating. His gaze turned to Qi Yue again.

Qi Yue was cutting open the wounded soldier’s thigh wound. She worked alone—pulling, tugging, her needle flying. Dense beads of sweat dripped down. Qiao Minghua saw her blink once, her hands steadily manipulating the instruments, completely motionless.

This wound was too severe! There was no way to treat it! Once the spear was pulled out, massive bleeding and death would be inevitable. Not pulling it out would also mean slowly dying!

This woman! Could she possibly…

Qiao Minghua’s thought had barely formed when he saw the woman slowly pull out the spear point from the lower thigh. His breathing involuntarily stopped.

No massive bleeding…

The woman had already begun her flying needle work.

The torn flesh before his eyes closed layer by layer.

Qiao Minghua felt his vision darkening. He suddenly realized and began breathing deeply in great gulps, preventing himself from passing out.

“Move the bed.”

Again, those two words.

The four support soldiers who had just brought in the wounded soldier came over here, and with a repeated set of movements, carried this person out. Another immediately came in from outside.

In this brief moment, the woman had completed treatment of two severely wounded soldiers. From beginning to end, she had only said two words.

Move the bed!

Move the bed!

Too terrifying! Too terrifying!

How could one person possibly do this!

If this were during peacetime, that would be one thing, but this was during battle! Outside were the thunderous sounds of combat! City gates that could be breached at any moment! The danger of death at any time!

They—how could they possibly remain so calm!

Qiao Minghua looked around. These people’s expressions were also numb, as if they couldn’t see, hear, or know what the current situation was. They just repeated their movements, repeated their coming and going. But this numbness was different from what he knew—these people’s eyes were all bright and sparkling.

No unnecessary words, no crying, no sadness. Just determined gazes as they moved back and forth, as if nothing could stop them.

Qiao Minghua slowly retreated from the tent, watching the support soldiers around him who seemed like they would never stop, never know fatigue.

How did they do it?

How was this possible?

Qiao Minghua felt his entire body trembling, as if he had lost all strength. He stood there stunned, looking around.

None of the people running back and forth spared him a glance. Everyone seemed to have only one purpose, one firm belief.

The sky gradually darkened, the sounds of battle seemed to lessen, but these people didn’t rest in the slightest.

“Rest in place, replenish your strength.”

Someone shouted loudly. Along with this shout, more people shouted loudly, while four or five people carrying large baskets came running.

Those people who had been running back and forth—whether carrying wounded soldiers or empty stretchers—all stopped, set down their stretchers, then sat on the ground, breathing heavily. Those four or five people ran over and threw down water pouches. These people picked them up and drank deeply.

Qiao Minghua also picked up one. He turned his head to look toward the tent. Inside, torches had been lit, casting bright light.

The woman was tilting her head back, also holding a water pouch and drinking deeply.

Qiao Minghua opened the pouch and tilted his head back to taste it.

Salty…

What kind of water was this?

Soon these people threw down their pouches and began their repetitive running again.

Dawn gradually brightened, and a pungent smell brought Qiao Minghua back to his senses.

The surroundings were unprecedentedly quiet.

No more fighting, no more screaming.

This quiet was too terrifying. Qiao Minghua suddenly stood up from the wall corner, then saw soldiers lying or sitting all over the street.

Heavy footsteps came, breaking the silence.

Two teams of support soldiers carrying strange buckets passed along the street, spraying water mist wherever they went.

This was the source of that pungent smell.

Qiao Minghua suddenly understood.

“What are you doing?” he couldn’t help shouting loudly.

“Disinfecting,” someone shouted back loudly, then continued past without stopping.

Qiao Minghua took a deep breath, finally gradually focusing his mind. When it got dark yesterday, the battle had ended, the Tartars had retreated, they had held the city. The soldiers’ and generals’ task was complete, but the military doctors’ battle was far from over. The military doctors who had recovered from their shock all threw themselves into treatment, staying busy until dawn. Qiao Minghua had leaned against the wall to take a nap and unexpectedly fell asleep.

Those wounded soldiers…

He turned to rush into the building, when sudden sounds of half-crying, half-laughing arose.

“This is impossible! This is impossible!”

Zhou Maochun was shouting frantically like a madman in the room full of wounded soldiers, his expression also half-crying, half-laughing.

“How are they not dead! How could they possibly not be dead! How could so many people be saved!”

This made the conscious wounded soldiers angry, looking over with unfriendly gazes.

Zhou Maochun was completely oblivious, and even if he noticed, he wouldn’t care.

“This is impossible!” he repeated over and over, his eyes wild.

This was impossible!

It was just the simplest treatment!

How could it have such great effect!

“Father.” A hoarse voice called out, temporarily bringing Zhou Maochun’s frenzied mind back to some clarity.

“Yueniang, Yueniang, you’re an immortal, aren’t you?” Zhou Maochun rushed over in one step, grabbing the woman who had just stood up from a wounded soldier and shaking her.

Qi Yue nearly fell from the shaking.

“I’m not an immortal,” she laughed.

“Then how did you do it!” Zhou Maochun shouted loudly. “This is impossible, this is impossible!”

Qi Yue smiled at him.

“Nothing is impossible,” she said. “Everything is possible, as long as you want it.”

So that was it—hope?

Qiao Minghua stood outside the door, looking at the woman inside the room.

His gaze surveyed the room. Those soldiers were either awake or unconscious, but without exception, they were all still alive.

Tears slid down from his eyes.

Master, Master, did you see? There really is hope in this world!

Master, Master, did you see? There actually is hope in this world!

Master, Master, I! Actually! Saw it!