The operating room descended into immediate chaos. Seeing the blood spray out, Hu San’s vision tunneled instantly, and he fainted dead away. Zhang Tong trembled uncontrollably, and while he didn't pass out, he was scarcely better than someone who had.

"Qi Yue!" Guan Zai shouted, reaching out to steady her.

That single shout of "Qi Yue!" snapped her back to reality.

"Gauze!" she commanded.

A'ru on the other side had completely lost control, leaning against the instrument rack just to remain upright.

Guan Zai grabbed a thick stack of cloth, and Qi Yue began packing it in.

"Adjust the operating table—head lower than the feet!" she ordered.

A'ru, Hu San, and Zhang Tong were beyond assistance. Guan Zai was unfamiliar with the table and, upon hearing the instruction, moved to lift it himself. Liu Pucheng swiftly extended a hand and manipulated the lever, causing the movable bed surface to slowly ascend.

"The saw," Qi Yue held out her hand again.

Guan Zai paused, startled.

"What for?" he asked.

"I need to split the sternum completely," Qi Yue stated.

Guan Zai stared at her, his eyes widening beyond the confines of his mask, his breathing growing shallow and rapid.

"Even now, you need to split it..." he murmured, his voice strained.

"Yes, there is a rupture in a major arterial branch causing massive hemorrhage. Without cardiopulmonary bypass, I must locate the bleeding site immediately and suture it... Gauze, give me gauze, pack it down to stop the bleeding..." Qi Yue spoke, never ceasing her movements, stuffing white cloth in piece after piece. "A'ru, transfusion!"

A'ru tried to respond affirmatively, but her trembling rendered her speechless.

Guan Zai reached out and took the blood bag.

"How do I do this?" he yelled, staring at the unfamiliar equipment.

Liu Pucheng stepped forward, took the needle, attached the tube, and pierced the patient’s vein.

As Qi Yue widened the incision once more, the entire operating room seemed to transform into a slaughterhouse.

Outside, matters were equally chaotic. Seeing Hu San collapse, those waiting outside, though not witnessing the chest cavity erupting blood so directly, were screaming in terror.

The relatives of the injured, who had been persuaded to wait aside, now became frantic.

"What happened? What's going on?" they screamed, surging forward.

Several disciples tried to intercept them but were shoved aside.

The leading man threw himself against the sliding screen door. Peering through the gap, he caught sight of Qi Yue raising a saw and dragging it across the patient's chest.

"Murder?? The man let out a howl, slamming both hands against the screen, the force causing the entire partition to shudder violently.

Several disciples rushed forward in panic to hold him back.

"It's surgery, it's an operation, don't be afraid!" they shouted incoherently.

"Brother! Brother! We've been tricked!" Shuan Zi burst in from the doorway, shouting loudly. "They said their Qianjin Hall is full of liars. They use people to practice... to practice techniques!"

This statement confirmed what the man had just witnessed, and he erupted in fury.

"Smash the door!" he roared, charging toward the operating room entrance.

The pounding on the door stunned everyone inside the operating room.

"Hold the door! Absolutely do not let them in!" Qi Yue commanded.

Liu Pucheng immediately rushed over and braced against the door with all his might. A'ru, shaking, tried to scramble over as well; she stumbled as soon as she moved, but she crawled forward desperately.

"You cannot enter! Not until the surgery is over!" Liu Pucheng shouted.

Outside, curses and battering against the door continued relentlessly.

Hearing their master's shout, the disciples outside snapped back to their senses and threw themselves forward with all their strength, trying to block and pull back the attackers.

These four men were strong and quickly threw off several disciples. One man picked up a chair and slammed it heavily against the door.

Zhang Tong, Liu Pucheng, and A'ru held fast against the assault.

Qi Yue seemed deaf to it all. She had retracted the cut, cleared away the packed gauze used for compression, and begun dissecting the mediastinum.

Guan Zai held the siphon, continuously drawing off the blood to keep her field of vision clear.

Sweat beaded on both their foreheads; the clothes beneath their gowns were soaked through.

"Found it!" Qi Yue let out a low gasp. "Left common carotid artery... Forceps!"

She reached out. Guan Zai, steadying the siphon with one hand, accurately passed the forceps with the other.

"The finest suture," Qi Yue said, reaching out again.

The needle and thread were passed accurately. She blinked, ignoring the sting and dryness in her eyes, and began stitching.

"Still seeping," she murmured, reaching out once more.

Guan Zai passed the thread again. Watching her stitch and repair again and again, time and the surrounding noise seemed to vanish. In that moment, except for the ringing in their ears, they heard nothing else.

The hourglass in the room ticked slowly away; three and a half shichen had passed.

Guan Zai shifted his gaze from the hourglass and fixed it back on Qi Yue's hands—those deft hands moving within the human body.

Old Doctor An arrived at the gate of Qianjin Hall precisely at this moment.

The clamor outside threatened to overturn the entire courtyard.

Little Doctor An, hearing the furious shouting and howling from behind, turned deathly pale.

"Father, Qianjin Hall must have run into serious trouble. We shouldn't go in," he urged quickly.

Little Doctor An was beside himself with anxiety.

"Hurry and push me in!" he struck his wheelchair with his cane.

Little Doctor An had no choice but to comply, pushing his father inside. This time, no one paid them any mind, and no door mat was laid down for them. All the disciples had rushed to the back courtyard, leaving the front hall deserted.

People from the street, drawn by the commotion, rushed in and blocked the rear doors. It took all Little Doctor An's effort to squeeze his father through the throng.

The courtyard looked like a pot of dumplings coming to a boil.

Disciples were scattered, struggling in groups of three, four, or five against a stout man—clinging to legs or waists. No matter how wildly the strong men swung their fists, the disciples refused to let go.

One brute roared madly, flinging off the four disciples clinging to him, and charged straight toward the door of the main house.

Little Doctor An turned his head away from the sight.

"What is happening here?" Old Doctor An asked loudly, his expression anxious.

"They say someone was murdered..." a bystander offered.

This time, the door was forced halfway open. The man shrieked, demanding entry, but the disciples on the ground desperately lunged forward, clinging fiercely to his legs and ankles.

The man roared and kicked, but couldn't break free.

Just then, the door was thrown open.

"What are you yelling about? Move aside! The surgery is finished!" Liu Pucheng shouted.

This was the first time Liu Pucheng had spoken so loudly. The noisy courtyard instantly fell silent; those struggling and fighting all turned to look.

What?

"The surgery is complete. This is now post-operative critical care. No one enters," Liu Pucheng declared.

He turned back toward the interior.

"Xiao Qi, should she stay here, or move to the adjacent sickroom..." he asked.

Qi Yue walked over, her eyes, reddened from the sweat and irritation, looking toward him.

"Moving here is too contaminated... Teacher," she said, exhaustion heavy in her voice. Before she could finish, she let out a sharp cry, lunged forward, and yanked Liu Pucheng aside.

"Give me back my brother's life!" The large man, seizing the moment of universal stunned silence, finally broke free of his restraints and lunged forward, bringing his massive fist down hard.

Accompanied by gasps from the crowd, Qi Yue, who had pulled Liu Pucheng clear, met the attack head-on. Without a cry, she fell backward, landing in the arms of Guan Zai, who had cried out in alarm right behind her, and promptly lost consciousness.

As the night deepened, the prison block grew even more oppressive.

The groans and wails of the inmates constantly echoed out, and the stench in the air made the place unbearable.

Two bailiffs ran hurriedly, trying to catch up with the swiftly moving young man ahead of them.

Huang Ziqiao kicked the door open. Inside, four men were suspended from posts by iron chains. Without a word, Huang Ziqiao snatched up a nearby whip and began lashing them across their heads and faces.

The four men let out cries of suppressed pain, but not one begged for mercy.

Huang Ziqiao was young, after all; he soon grew tired and stopped, breathing heavily. The men before him were already covered in wounds.

"If Madame Qi..." Huang Ziqiao gasped, the word sticking in his throat. He snatched the whip again and struck fiercely. "You just wait to be skinned, have your bones ground, and your ashes scattered!"

The heavily wounded man let out a cold laugh.

"We are low-born; our lives are worthless, but we never lose a life for nothing..." his hoarse voice rasped. "A life for a life, a debt repaid in blood..."

Before he could finish, Huang Ziqiao raised the whip and lashed out again.

"Your worthless lives, worthless lives, you deserve to die! A thousand or ten thousand of you dying couldn't compare to one Madame Qi..." he yelled, striking down mercilessly. "Die! Go die! Die!"

Night gave way, and the sky began to lighten. People hurried on foot, stopping outside Qianjin Hall.

The doors of Qianjin Hall were open. Chang Chunlan, her eyes blurry with tears, leaned against the door frame, catching her breath for a moment before rushing inside.

In the sickroom, two beds held occupants, each attended by a disciple checking on them.

"...His temperature is rising... Doctor An, this man's temperature is rising..." A'ru choked out, turning from the bedside.

By the other sickbed sat Old Doctor An in his wheelchair. He turned at the sound.

"Who cares if he dies!" Hu San snarled from nearby. "We shouldn't have kept him. Throw him out!"

Old Doctor An glanced at him.

"Then wouldn't Master's painstaking effort have been wasted?" he replied.

Saying this, he looked toward the bed where Qi Yue lay quietly. If it weren't for the two wooden splints fixed to her head and the ice pack on her forehead, one would have thought she was merely asleep.

The image of the woman's bright smile—assertive yet never repulsive—flashed before Old Doctor An's eyes. His own eyes stung with unexpected sorrow. He reached out and touched his own legs. As a healer, were such fates all predetermined? He recalled his wife's words: You doctors save lives, striving against King Yama himself, but sometimes Yama wins.

He let out a soft sigh, pushed his wheelchair around, and walked toward the other patient's bed.

Chang Chunlan, leaning against the doorway, collapsed onto the ground, weeping, watching Qi Yue on the bed through her tears.

The early spring air carried a biting chill. After a dark cloud passed, sleet and rain began to lash down. Chang Yancheng stepped into the military camp, wrapped in a large cloak, ice crystals already forming on his shoulders.

"Depart on the first day of the fourth month," he announced to the military officers scattered throughout the room. "The Ministry of War has set the date."

"Excellent! I've been itching for action," a scarlet-clad officer chuckled.

Chang Yancheng offered a faint smile, but it never reached his eyes.

"My Lord!" a hurried call came from outside the door. "The carrier pigeon from home has arrived."

Carrier pigeon. Chang Yancheng froze, then abruptly flung open the curtain and stepped out.

He took the small scroll from the guard's hand. His own hands began to tremble involuntarily.

No news meant good news, so...

He took a deep breath and opened it, his face instantly draining of color.