Zhao Cheng knew them. He had impressions of basically all the students in the Imperial Academy. Of these eight, three had particularly outstanding grades, while the other five had grades ranging from upper to middle to lower.

Their backgrounds included northern aristocratic families, southern powerful clans, humble scholars, merchant families, and one was even an orphan from a common clan. Reportedly, his family had once rented land from the Wang clan and were Wang family tenant farmers, so he was often mocked openly in the Imperial Academy. Zhao Cheng had mediated twice because of this, which was why he knew him.

He didn’t know what standards Zhao Hanzhang used to select people, but he still very much enjoyed the job of teaching at the Imperial Academy. When he returned from his study tour, he might not necessarily become Chancellor again, but he definitely wanted to continue teaching, so he nodded in agreement.

Thus, these eight students combined with the previous eight formed a group of sixteen.

Zhao Hanzhang noted down their names, planning to meet them personally when they returned from their study tour.

Those who could set aside Luoyang’s infinite possibilities at this time and follow Zhao Cheng—who had seemingly quarreled with her and been forced to resign—on a study tour clearly demonstrated the character and aspirations of those eight students.

As for the eight students she had personally selected, setting aside their grades, they all shared a common drive—the drive to investigate truth.

The principles of governing families, governing people, governing nations, even the principles of life and death—she hoped to give them a broader path so that in the future, they too could forge a smooth road for the world.

Zhao Hanzhang heard footsteps and turned to look down from the platform.

Guo Pu followed her gaze and, seeing the official robes on Yuan Li’s body, frowned slightly. “Why is he here?”

Guo Pu didn’t like Yuan Li. Well, more than half the officials in court didn’t like Yuan Li.

Zhao Hanzhang asked, “When did Master Guo ever meet Yuan Li?”

“Never met him, but his name thunders in my ears.” Guo Pu was lazy and hated trouble most. In his eyes, Yuan Li’s labels were: spy master, cruel official, brutal, sinister…

So to avoid trouble, he tried not to meet him if possible.

Yuan Li had been back in the capital for some time, but Guo Pu either went to the Imperial Academy or hid in his observatory, occasionally leaving the palace to visit Zhao Hu, perfectly avoiding the man.

Yuan Li ascended the platform. Raising his head, his gaze quickly swept over the unfamiliar face of Guo Pu, then he lowered his eyes and bowed to Zhao Hanzhang.

Guo Pu also first stared at his face and eyes, raised an eyebrow, and glanced imperceptibly at Zhao Hanzhang.

Yuan Li had entered the palace to report matters to Zhao Hanzhang. For tonight’s palace banquet, he and Zeng Yue were jointly responsible for security—Zeng Yue handled the visible security while he handled the covert.

Because outsiders were present, Yuan Li didn’t go into great detail, and Zhao Hanzhang didn’t ask detailed questions either. After handling official business, she showed concern for him: “I see the wounds on your face have healed considerably. Imperial Physician Zhang said you want to completely remove the scars on your face? Has he found a remedy?”

Yuan Li replied, “Not yet. He only said they can be lightened. To completely remove them would require finding new formulas. They’re already researching it.”

Because Yuan Li was a minister valued by Zhao Hanzhang, and because Zhao Hanzhang had personally asked the imperial physicians to treat him, the physicians were willing to spend so much time researching scar removal. Otherwise, they really wouldn’t be that interested in this.

Currently, the medical conditions they were most interested in were typhoid fever and trauma treatment.

Trauma treatment was of interest because of the fighting these past two years—many new trauma treatment methods and efficiency-improving procedures had emerged from the military medical teams.

Blood typing for transfusions was currently the most popular research project in the surgical medicine department.

Beyond that was typhoid fever.

Zhao Hanzhang strictly forbade people from consuming Five Stone Powder. Once discovered, severe cases would be imprisoned and sentenced to labor, light cases would be fined, and those who privately sold this medicine received even heavier punishments.

She decreed that those who had consumed Five Stone Powder within the past three months could not participate in talent recruitment examinations and could not be recommended for official positions.

Officials who consumed Five Stone Powder would be dismissed.

The regulations were extremely strict. In just the past half month, twenty-three people among the aristocrats returning from the south had been arrested for consuming Five Stone Powder. Considering they were first-time offenders, they paid large fines and were released.

But they had already been targeted by the Luoyang County yamen’s officers, who seemed ready to rush in and arrest anyone who consumed it again.

The fines they paid could also be shared by the Luoyang County yamen. Although it wouldn’t reach the officers individually, if the yamen became wealthy, their lives would improve somewhat.

Of course, Zhao Hanzhang didn’t only employ thunderous methods. She also had famous physicians and renowned scholars with some medical knowledge form a lecture team to explain to the people the pros and cons of Five Stone Powder, telling them why she strictly forbade it.

At first, she had truly believed Five Stone Powder could treat one type of typhoid fever illness and was irreplaceable, only having its effects exaggerated, which was why it became so popular.

When she decided to restrict Five Stone Powder so that only patients could consume it, the imperial physicians from the Imperial Medical Bureau came to find her in a group, requesting she revise the law: “…Completely ban the sale of Five Stone Powder and destroy all Five Stone Powder formulas from every household and medicine shop.”

Zhao Hanzhang became curious. “According to what I’ve read in books, Five Stone Powder can warm yang and dispel cold, and is effective for rheumatic-type ailments. Why must it all be destroyed?”

Imperial Physician Zhang, as the representative, explained: “Five Stone Powder does have this efficacy, but there are many formulas that can achieve this effect—Five Stone Powder is not the only one. However, Five Stone Powder’s existence harms people and ruins the nation. Its benefits are minimal, but its harms are millions of times its benefits. Therefore, it should be destroyed and not preserved.”

Every physician in the world with any insight knew the dangers of Five Stone Powder. The concept of banning the formula wasn’t proposed only after Zhao Hanzhang’s arrival. Her grandfather, Fu Zhi, and even Wang Yan had all proposed banning it.

It was just that Zhao Changyu and Fu Zhi’s influence was limited, and Wang Yan’s restrictions were also considerable. Not to mention distant examples—his own younger brother consumed Five Stone Powder, and no amount of persuasion worked.

Among the great aristocratic families, the Wang clan had the most Five Stone Powder consumers, so it simply couldn’t be banned.

Now the one wanting to ban Five Stone Powder was Zhao Hanzhang. As for the Zhao clan, according to the physicians’ understanding, throughout the Zhao clan—from seventy-year-old elders down to youths just reaching adulthood—no one consumed Five Stone Powder.

So they believed this was an opportunity.

This might be the only opportunity in a hundred years to ban this formula.

Zhao Hanzhang indeed persisted with this law. It was just that people who consumed Five Stone Powder suddenly lost their support, and quite a few truly believed in their hearts that they would catch cold and die the very next moment.

Although a considerable portion of people consumed Five Stone Powder because of indulgence in sensual pleasures, undeniably, some truly did so to prevent typhoid fever.

So to ease their minds, the physicians were working hard to research typhoid fever treatment methods. Many sighed, “If only the Medical Sage’s ‘Treatise on Cold Damage Disorders’ were still transmitted in the world.”

Zhang Zhongjing’s “Treatise on Cold Damage Disorders” had long since been lost somewhere during these hundred-plus years of warfare. All Zhao Hanzhang could do was publish notices in various newspapers seeking the book.

She stated that anyone who presented it would be greatly rewarded if it was verified as authentic.

To date, no one had come forward with the medical text.

So the physicians could only trace Zhang Zhongjing’s footsteps, researching all the medical texts they could find. They were very busy, and under these circumstances, they still had to treat Yuan Li’s face…

Actually, Imperial Physician Zhang had always had something he wanted to say but dared not: As a dignified man, Yuan Li was not only a general but also a cruel official—what was wrong with having scars on his face? How frightening, how fitting for his identity! Why must they absolutely be removed?

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