This was Qi Yue’s first time witnessing an ancient limb amputation, and she was brimming with excitement, but Liu Pucheng wouldn't let her into the operating theater.

"This sort of trauma case is quite straightforward for us," he told Qi Yue. "Zhang Tong and I are sufficient. You should stay outside and keep watch; after all, if patients come asking for consultation, we can't have no doctor available, can we?"

Qi Yue’s eyes widened, then she broke into a smile.

"Teacher, you're at it again," she chuckled, her expression knowing. "Teacher, you constantly teach me not to fear things, yet when faced with a situation, you’re the one who seems fearful."

Liu Pucheng gave a wry smile.

"It’s not always a good thing for a young woman to be too clever," he grimaced, then cleared his throat. "You have many important tasks ahead; there's no need to be distracted by trivial matters."

Qi Yue rolled her eyes.

"Teacher," she said, "are you planning to shield me my entire life? If I dare not bear any risk, I will either stagnate or become recklessly arrogant. Surely, you don't wish to see me turn out that way?"

Liu Pucheng laughed and sighed.

"Alright, alright, let's get to surgery," Qi Yue clapped her hands by way of announcement.

The disciples waiting outside responded with a loud affirmation.

Watching Qi Yue step into the sterilization room, Liu Pucheng shook his head with a smile and followed her in.

Since Liu Pucheng was performing the surgery, he used his familiar instruments.

It was also Qi Yue’s first time seeing Liu Pucheng’s amputation tools up close.

"How about this: you handle the vascular suturing, my dear wife, to ensure everything is absolutely foolproof," Liu Pucheng suggested.

Qi Yue nodded. Since Hu San’s chronic hemophobia made him unable to participate in the operation, the only surgical assistants were A'ru and Zhang Tong.

"I'm starting now," Liu Pucheng announced.

The people in the operating theater nodded. They watched as Liu Pucheng brought down his knife swiftly, slicing into the patient's lower leg. As the epidermis and muscle separated, Qi Yue promptly applied pressure to stop the bleeding. The flesh separated quickly, revealing the major blood vessels.

Liu Pucheng carefully lifted the vessel with his accustomed bianshi () probe. Qi Yue immediately clamped it with a hemostat and tied a ligature above it with thread. Liu Pucheng paused slightly, and under Qi Yue's gaze, he clipped the vessel below. Qi Yue immediately began suturing with fish gut thread.

"Done," Qi Yue signaled with a nod and finished tying off the thread.

Liu Pucheng watched the upper ligature line with some tension, and everyone looked nervous.

"Heh, you still don't trust me?" Qi Yue shook her head, then reached out and untied the ligature herself.

There was no bleeding.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Outside the operating room, the sound of sawing bone could faintly be heard—a sound that made everyone tremble. Fortunately, the noise ceased after a short while.

"This is the necrotic limb; incinerate it immediately," A'ru handed a cloth bag through the door, emblazoned with the large characters: Incinerate Specific Infection.

Judging by the shape, it was a human lower leg, and the disciple who reached out to take it nearly dropped it due to a sudden loss of strength.

"This is my mother's..." the wet nurse's son asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes, but this cannot be kept. You can take it home, but it must be burned and buried, otherwise it will cause contagion. Anyone with an open wound who comes into contact with it could contract the same illness as your mother," Qi Yue stated from inside.

The people outside immediately backed away several paces.

"Then... you all burn it," the wet nurse's son dared not take it any longer.

That disciple, his face pale, quickly hurried towards the specially constructed incinerator behind the courtyard.

After another period of suffocating silence, the surgery finally concluded.

"Whether we can prevent the septic infection from taking hold is still uncertain," the exhausted Qi Yue explained seriously to the wet nurse's son. "You must prepare yourselves mentally."

The wet nurse's son nodded, thanking her with tears in his eyes.

That night, the patient's temperature remained stubbornly high.

"This is far more aggressive than the hunter from last time," he murmured with a sigh. "I fear it might be too late."

"It hasn't reached full-blown septic infection yet; there's still a chance," Qi Yue said with a frown, clenching her fist slightly. "Teacher, the herbal decoction will be up to you."

Liu Pucheng nodded.

"A'ru, increase the saline balance in the intravenous drip," Qi Yue turned to A'ru.

A'ru acknowledged this.

"Hu San, you take a team and prepare to extract the traditional Chinese medicine injection with me," Qi Yue instructed.

Hu San responded loudly and summoned seven or eight disciples.

Since the last time they used it, Qi Yue had hesitated to frequently use this unstable injection, so materials hadn't been fully prepared. However, since everyone had done it once before, their memory was sharp due to the novelty. Before long, everything was ready, and they set up their array in the room designated for teaching.

By evening, they managed to extract a small vial, just enough to combat this infection quickly. Qi Yue’s advantage lay in two things: highly purified antimicrobial Chinese medicine, and rapid intravenous administration.

Qi Yue administered the entire contents intravenously. After observation, when the woman showed no signs of rejection, everyone relaxed.

"I will monitor her temperature today. You must get some sleep, no matter what," Liu Pucheng insisted, his tone brooking no argument.

Qi Yue looked at the still-unconscious woman and nodded.

Meanwhile, the Prefect’s Residence had also learned the news. A servant woman familiar with the wet nurse had come to deliver her burial clothes, only to find no one home. Upon inquiry, they learned the woman had been taken to the Qianjin Hall.

The Prefect’s wife received the news with complex emotions. Though displeased, she couldn't force them to bring the patient back when her life was at stake.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," she finally sighed, shaking her head. "It is her son's filial piety, after all."

As she spoke, the young master was eating pastries nearby.

"Mother, I am also filial," he said, offering a pastry to the Prefect’s wife.

The Prefect’s wife smiled, took a bite, and patted her son's head.

"Yu’er is a good boy," she laughed.

After just a couple of pats, her son frowned and threw the pastry away.

"My stomach hurts!" he cried, clutching his abdomen.

The Prefect’s wife turned deathly pale, hastily picking up her son. This time, the young master was in terrible pain, writhing as if he wanted to roll on the floor. The entire household panicked and summoned a doctor. This doctor, surnamed Zhang, arrived, and the young master was fine again, lying on the bed, panting.

"Did he eat something bad?" the Prefect’s wife asked, still shaken.

Doctor Zhang carefully examined his pulse, seeing the young master calm now, save for the sweat from the earlier pain, he couldn't be sure either. The pulse seemed normal, so he nodded.

"Eat fewer melons and fruits, avoid cold things, and fast for a few days," Doctor Zhang advised.

The Prefect’s wife finally relaxed, thanked him, gave him a generous fee, and had him escorted out.

As dawn faintly broke, Qi Yue awoke and stepped into the patient's room.

"...High fever, flaring nostrils, black stools..." A'ru, wearing her gown and mask, was taking notes.

"...Severe depletion of Yin blood, Liver Wind threatening to arise. Pulse deep, thin, and rapid; tongue glossy and bare..." Liu Pucheng murmured as he examined the patient, "Administer two fen of Snake Gallbladder and Aged Tangerine Peel."

A'ru acknowledged this, quickly taking the record sheet to prepare the medicine.

"Teacher, let me take over; you go rest," Qi Yue offered.

Liu Pucheng accepted without ceremony and retreated with a nod.

Qi Yue administered an injection every three hours until the entire hard-won supply was used up. Around midnight, the patient's temperature finally dropped.

Upon receiving the news, everyone couldn't help but cheer joyfully.

"This means the infection is somewhat contained," Qi Yue said, though her expression held no joy or relief. "But the situation remains precarious."

In her hand, she held a white cloth containing the patient's phlegm.

She scrutinized it intently, as if looking at some rare treasure.

"Yellow phlegm streaked with blood—the Fire Toxin has indeed invaded the viscera," Liu Pucheng observed seriously, then looked up at Qi Yue. "My wife, if the Fire Toxin attacks the heart, then there truly will be no saving her."

Qi Yue took a deep breath.

"She can cough up the phlegm now; it’s a sign of improvement," she stated. "As long as she hasn't stopped breathing, we must continue treatment."

The disciples were still busy in the room used for extracting injections. Qi Yue slowly walked in and sat down at a table.

On the table sat crude culture medium in a dish. She hadn't used blood culture—partly because it wouldn't grow anything, and partly because what would a culture tell them? She possessed no penicillin, no streptomycin, no any-mycin; discussing adjusting medication was an absurd luxury.

If she had penicillin, the condition could have been controlled in half an hour, instead of them staying up day and night like this.

"Penicillin, oh Penicillin, how were you created?" Qi Yue muttered to herself.

What a pity. Why hadn't she studied penicillin extraction as diligently as she studied the extraction of Chinese medicine injections? If she had studied the latter, wouldn't that be...

She smiled at the thought.

She had only pursued the extraction of Chinese medicine injections because she suspected their efficacy. Did she need to suspect penicillin?

She knew penicillin was extracted from Penicillium mold, but she had never inquired about the specific process.

Qi Yue ran her hands through her hair, messing it up.

Don't dwell on what cannot be done now; thinking about it is a complete waste of time. This limited time should be spent on what can be achieved.

Her current advantage relied solely on having the tools for intravenous injection and infusion, allowing her to purify Chinese medicine and make its efficacy fast and potent compared to decoctions.

"Find several more antimicrobial Chinese herbs and see which extraction yields the greatest effect," she stood up, rushed out, and requested all the herbs listed in Liu Pucheng's prescriptions.

For a full day and night, the work of extracting injection fluid in the classroom never ceased. Finally, when all the pus scraped from the patient's sores was used up, they began using the patient’s phlegm. Consequently, whenever the disciples heard the patient cough, they couldn't help but cheer with joy.

On the third day after the surgery, good news finally came from the injection extraction efforts: they found an extract even more effective than the previous ones, derived from a Chinese herb called Bai Mao Xia Ku Cao (White-Haired Selfheal).

After administering intramuscular injections twice daily, morning and evening, the patient's temperature finally dropped on the morning of the third day, and her spirits also improved.

"Where am I?" she asked weakly.

Her son, surprised that his mother was truly awake, burst into tears of joy and collapsed by the bedside, weeping. After only a few sobs, there were a few soft sounds (pū pū), immediately followed by a foul stench spreading.

She had defecated...

The wet nurse's son was deeply embarrassed, but looking aside, A'ru, who had been guarding the bedside, exclaimed with delight.

"Mistress, Mistress, she passed stool, she passed stool!" she called out loudly.

Then she quickly hurried to wash and change the woman.

"You wasteful woman!" the wet nurse's son kicked his wife beside him. "This is a task for whom!"

The daughter-in-law, kicked, hurriedly stepped forward.

"Little mistress, let me do it," she said quickly.

"No need, no need, this is very useful to us," A'ru insisted.

Passing stool is useful?

The couple stood stunned as Qi Yue entered.

"Let me see, let me see," she said excitedly, taking the soiled pad from A'ru's hands.

The wet nurse's son and his wife couldn't help but gag watching the beautiful young mistress’s actions.

Without laboratory equipment, her only tools were sight, smell, and hearing—feces, phlegm, saliva, sweat, etc., all these could truthfully reflect the patient's condition.

"Excellent," Qi Yue said after carefully examining the stool. "It's yellowish-brown, pasty yellow-brown. Sepsis is under control."

She rushed out in her excitement.

This news allowed the Qianjin Hall, which had been tense for days, to finally breathe a small sigh of relief.

On the fourth day, no further infection spread was found at the amputation site. Furthermore, listening with the stethoscope revealed that the adventitious sounds in the lungs had basically disappeared, and the temperature was estimated to be around thirty-seven degrees Celsius. The patient was mentally better and recognized people, though she refused to eat.

Qi Yue could finally get a proper night's sleep, but halfway through the night, she was woken up again.

The patient's arm was red, swollen, and painful—exactly the inflammation symptom Qi Yue had described.

"Could the infection have spread after all?" A'ru asked nervously.

Qi Yue shook her head and sighed again.

"No," she said, reaching out and pulling out the needle connected to the IV. "It's likely phlebitis caused by the infusion."

She sighed.

"Stop the infusion," she said, looking at the infusion tube in her hand, which had become deformed after multiple sterilizations—this, too, was now...

"Throw it away," she instructed.

A'ru paused, looking at the infusion tube Qi Yue tossed over.

So, one more thing was lost...

More and more people in the Prefect’s Residence began paying attention to the events unfolding here, as they had never received any news about attending the wet nurse's funeral.

Could she actually have been cured?

Someone couldn't help but inquire.

"Really, really, she's alive, but her leg was sawed off!" the investigator quickly returned, shouting throughout the courtyard.

Alive! But her leg was sawed off!

Both pieces of news were quite shocking.

"Oh, I know about this!" a young servant whispered, pulling a piece of paper from his sleeve. "Is it written on this? 'Do not take minor wounds lightly...'..."

He read from the paper: "...or it could cost your life and a severed limb... ensure proper disinfection and sterilization..."

This was the first time anyone had heard such words. Someone snatched the paper from his hand to see what it was.

"This is a notice issued by Qianjin Hall..." the servant explained. "Many people in the city have them. It says that if you get a cut or a severe bruise, absolutely do not sprinkle ash or dirt on it. First, rinse with running water, then saline solution, or you can go to Qianjin Hall—it’s free of charge..."

Everyone eagerly passed the paper around, reading the simple, clear, and novel instructions.

"Is Qianjin Hall really that capable?" someone asked. "Didn't they only treat bruises and sprains?"

"Yes, they specialize in bruises and sprains, but think about it," the servant said seriously, counting on his fingers, "what kinds of bruises and sprains have they treated lately? ... The Prefect’s young master, who was stepped on by a horse, whom every doctor in the city had already given up for dead—Qi Niangzi cured him. The hunter with the injured leg, for whom Wang Qingchun staked his kneeling reputation on failure, but Qi Niangzi cured him too. A few days ago, they sawed open someone's chest and cured him. Now, the wet nurse, who was already dressed in burial clothes, has had her life spared..."

He listed them one by one, and only then did everyone realize how many major deeds Qianjin Hall had accomplished.

Although all these cases involved trauma, "...these people share another characteristic: they were all pronounced doomed," the servant concluded with deep awe. "What she treats is far more than just bruises and sprains—it's life! These were all terminal illnesses!"

Indeed, if the person who could cure those deemed certain to die was not considered formidable, then who in this world deserved the title of 'formidable'?

A sudden enlightenment swept through the crowd, and the legend of Qianjin Hall's miracles spread like wildfire through the Prefect's Residence.

However, the Prefect’s wife, at this moment, couldn't spare any thought for whether these matters would affect the relationship between her household and the Marquis of Dingxi's estate. She was already frantic with worry over her younger son's stomach pains.

After the two previous episodes where the pain suddenly struck and then suddenly vanished—leading them to believe it was just a minor upset cured by warmth—the young master had experienced another bout of severe abdominal pain yesterday. This time, however, it didn't pass quickly like the others; he fainted from the agony.

Doctor Zhang's face also paled slightly after examining the pulse.

"Young Master, what exactly did he eat?" he asked.

The Prefect’s wife trembled uncontrollably.

"Just regular meals, everything I ate, he ate too," she stammered.

"But the pulse indicates that the young master's internal organs have been damaged," Doctor Zhang stated gravely. "There are no external wounds, no visible symptoms, only unbearable abdominal pain. This can only be caused by consuming something forbidden."

The Prefect’s wife sank onto the bed, staggering.

"Heavens, who would want to harm my son!" she instantly began to weep, shouting for an investigation.

The Prefect’s Residence was thrown into chaos. The maids and servants attending the young master suffered the consequences, each beaten until they wailed pitifully, yet none could reveal anything.

Finally, Doctor Zhang used needles and moxibustion to rouse the unconscious young master. The family tearfully pleaded with him, asking what he had eaten.

The young master could only cry due to the intense pain and could offer no coherent reply.

"The spoon!" suddenly exclaimed a maid standing near the Prefect’s wife.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her.

The maid pointed at the young master's neck.

"The young master's silver spoon!" she shrieked.

The Prefect and his wife reacted instantly, both lunging forward to examine their son's neck.

Like all children, the young master wore a collar with five auspicious bells, along with a jade pendant and a silver chain.

The silver chain was now empty; a spoon the size of a finger was missing from it.

"Where is your spoon?" the Prefect’s wife grabbed the silver chain, shouting in terror. "Where is the silver spoon your maternal grandmother gave you?"

"Did you lose it?" the Prefect asked, a sliver of hope trembling in his voice.

The young master cried out in agony.

"I ate it, I bet my cousin I dared to eat it..." he wailed.

The bodies of the Prefect and his wife swayed, and they collapsed onto the bed.

"Doctor... save him quickly!" the Prefect’s wife cried, grabbing the doctor’s sleeve.

The doctor recoiled in fright, hastily stepping back.

"How many days has it been?" he asked.

The child mumbled vaguely, unable to articulate clearly, and was soon writhing again in pain.

"Don't move, whatever you do, don't bend over!" the doctor commanded, hastily restraining the young master's body. "If it's already in his abdomen, do not move randomly! If it pierces the viscera, he could die instantly!"

Hearing this, the Prefect and his wife immediately held their son still.

"Quickly, feed him leeks and celery to see if it can be passed naturally, and I will write another prescription," Doctor Zhang instructed.

"And if that doesn't work?" the Prefect’s wife couldn't help but ask.

Doctor Zhang paused for a moment in silence.

"Either he will die from distension and blockage, or he will die from perforation of the intestines," he stated slowly.

In short, death either way.

"However, that was before," the doctor suddenly added.

The hearts of the Prefect and his wife nearly stopped beating.

No time for such suspense!

"Now, Qianjin Hall might be able to save him," Doctor Zhang said slowly.

The Prefect’s wife’s heart paused again.

Qianjin Hall?

"The Qi Niangzi at Qianjin Hall possesses the skill of abdominal surgery. Now, that is the only way to retrieve the spoon from the young master's belly," Doctor Zhang explained.

Qianjin Hall’s Qi Niangzi...

The Prefect’s wife clutched her chest, breaking out in a cold sweat.

Was this... retribution?

Was this what the elders warned about—never to speak carelessly, lest your mouth be struck if you do?

That day, no matter how much the young master cried and struggled, the leeks and celery were forced into his mouth and swallowed, but it only intensified the pain without any effect.

"My Lord," the Prefect’s wife said, her voice hoarse from crying, supported by two maids, unable to sit still.

"Why are you still crying! To hell with the Marquis of Dingxi's Residence! The Marquis of Dingxi’s Residence isn't my son! Why should I care about maintaining face for them!" the Prefect roared. "Quickly go to Qianjin Hall and invite Qi Niangzi!"

The servant rushed off in panic.

At Qianjin Hall, the wet nurse had finally recovered her spirits. Qi Yue then informed her that her leg had been amputated, leading to a tearful reunion between mother and son.

"I'm useless, I've become crippled," the wet nurse wailed, beating her chest. "It would be better if I were dead."

"Mother, you raised me until I was grown. It is my duty to support you now. As long as you are here, never mind one lost leg—even if you were paralyzed, blind, or foolish—as long as you are here, I still have a mother," her son cried bitterly.

"Don't worry," Qi Yue comforted them. "When the time comes, we will make a prosthetic limb, attach it, and with crutches, it should not affect walking or movement."

This statement brought immense joy to the mother and son.

"It just won't be the same as before," Qi Yue quickly added, feeling a little awkward under their shining gazes.

"Thank you, Divine Doctor, thank you, Divine Doctor," mother and son kowtowed in gratitude.

Qi Yue hurriedly helped them up.

"Stop calling me Divine Doctor, Divine Doctor; I can't bear it, I truly can't bear it," she said.

After settling the mother and son, Qi Yue returned to her office. She could finally sit down after the last few days, but she couldn't rest yet, as a queue of people waiting for consultation already lined up outside the door.

As time wore on, the Qianjin Hall began to see an ever-increasing stream of visitors, creating an atmosphere that felt undeniably bustling, regardless of whether any actual profit was being made.

"Doctor, Doctor..." A man flung aside the curtain and burst inside, followed closely by disciples who hadn't managed to stop him.

Qi Yue was in the middle of listening to a woman's lungs and heart with her stethoscope when the sudden intrusion caused the woman to shriek and clutch her clothes.

"What is it?" Qi Yue asked, frowning.

The man, startled himself, stopped just outside the doorway.

"Madam Qi, Madam Qi," he managed, bowing awkwardly. "I am from the Prefectural Office. We urgently request Madam Qi attend to a matter outside."

Qi Yue set down the stethoscope in her hand.

The Prefectural Office?

She gave a half-smile as she glanced toward the door.

Well now, how very unusual this was.

"I apologize, but the physicians of Qianjin Hall do not make house calls," she stated coolly. "If you require treatment, please bring the patient here to Qianjin Hall."

The two previous chapters have been merged into one, totaling six thousand characters, as a thank you for yesterday's pink ticket support.

It truly is the enthusiasm from everyone that fuels the motivation; writing is such a solitary affair, and I rely entirely on your support. Thank you all so very much; I am deeply grateful.

P.S. The previous chapter has been revised; please remember to go back and check. The case overlapped with another one I was writing, so I made some adjustments. My apologies—removing a toxic ulcer and treating a toxic ulcer infection are two distinct procedures, and I mixed them up. RS