Imperial Physician Zhou stood up from the bedside and shook his head at everyone.

Chang Yuncheng immediately knelt beside the bed.

“Then, the mistress’s clothes are ready; let’s change her now…” a nanny subconsciously uttered.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Old Madam Xie, who was standing nearby, struck her with her cane.

Watching the nanny collapse on the ground, trying not to cry but daring not to, Concubine Zhou, standing behind the others, couldn't help patting her chest.

Thank goodness it wasn't her who spoke… even though she was screaming the words internally.

“Die! If one must die, one must die after giving it one’s all!” Old Madam Xie muttered, gripping her cane tightly before slamming it down with force. “If the mountain won’t come to me, I will go to it! Servants, carry the mistress; we are going after her.”

The Marquis of Dingxi, as the master of the house, was completely ignored. Old Madam Xie and the Eldest Master Xie directed the chaos, loudly ordering people to carry Madam Xie.

“My Lord, tormenting the mistress like this, how can that be appropriate…” Concubine Zhou squeezed closer, standing by the Marquis of Dingxi, saying with feigned distress while dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “If the mistress passes away halfway, or perhaps outside… then… what kind of appearance would that make!”

The Marquis of Dingxi stared vacantly, watching the commotion of people swirling throughout the courtyard.

Mother…

Why did you have to die before the Old Madam of the Xie family…

“My Lord.” Concubine Zhou shook his arm. “Qi Yuniang clearly resents the mistress; she wouldn't know how to treat her, otherwise, why would she conveniently be out making house calls… Sending her there… wouldn't it be even more disgraceful if they refused?”

The Marquis of Dingxi was shaken back to reality.

He suddenly flung his hand away.

“She is not that kind of person!” he roared.

Concubine Zhou stumbled back several steps, caught off guard, and stared at the Marquis of Dingxi in astonishment.

She is not that kind of person?

By what right did they all assume she wasn't that kind of person?!

Why couldn't she be that kind of person!!

In Sanlitai Village, Qi Yue merely felt an itch in her nose. She rubbed it with the back of her hand, which came away covered in blood.

This was the most severe trauma she had witnessed since arriving here.

In the courtyard, the injured man lay on the ground; the plowshare had pierced his thigh, and blood was spurting out. No, this wasn't the worst of it; the worst was his chest.

A bamboo pole attached to the plowshare had pierced straight through his torso.

The scene was utterly gruesome. The crowd packed outside the courtyard gate erupted into cries of grief.

Even a few disciples whispered nervously, “Master, it’s beyond saving, it’s beyond saving…”

“Silence!” Qi Yue snapped. “Since when is it up to you to decide it’s beyond saving!”

The disciples snapped back to attention, responding with a trace of shame, “Yes,” before returning to their urgent tasks.

“Master, no, he’s losing too much blood,” a disciple cried out, his hands and body already drenched in crimson.

Qi Yue bit her lower lip hard.

Massive hemorrhage—without replenishing the blood, survival was impossible!

Blood transfusion! Blood transfusion! Blood transfusion!

She looked up, her gaze falling upon the melon vines in the yard.

“Pluck the pumpkin vines and wash them clean,” she commanded.

The disciples didn't know what this was for, but the ingrained concept of obeying the Master in an emergency took over. A chorus of “Yes” sounded, and one rushed toward the pumpkin vines.

“Family members,” Qi Yue called out again.

The old and young crowded on the ground in the courtyard looked over fearfully.

It was a woman clutching three children, ranging from three to ten years old, and an elderly woman who had already fainted on the ground.

“I need blood. Your children are the most likely matches, so I need their blood,” Qi Yue stated.

The woman’s face turned deathly pale. She clutched her three children tightly, looking at Qi Yue as if she were a demon or a monster.

“No, no,” she whispered, shaking her head tremulously.

“No, don’t be afraid, just a little bit; it won’t harm the children,” Qi Yue hurriedly explained.

The woman still held her children, shaking her head in terror.

“Mine, use mine.” The elderly woman, who had woken up upon hearing this, crawled toward them. “Use mine. He is my son; use mine.”

Time was critical; there was no time for debate.

Qi Yue ignored the trio and rushed toward the elderly woman, dropping to one knee for better leverage.

“Syringe, infusion bottle,” she shouted.

A disciple rushed over, carrying the medicine box.

Disinfect, inject, draw blood.

The crowd outside erupted in another wave of gasps. Forget the women and children; even the men turned ashen-faced.

This… this was an unprecedented scene.

“The pumpkin vines are ready,” a disciple shouted from the other side.

Here, Qi Yue managed to draw two syringes of blood. She couldn’t draw any more; the old woman’s entire body had stiffened from terror, and Qi Yue was certain that drawing more would frighten her to death.

In their previous emergency kits, they always carried infusion sets, but one of the original three tubes was already ruined, and the remaining two were more often used as drainage tubes, so they weren't carried out anymore. Emergency transfusion had run into a snag.

Fortunately, the size and thickness of the pumpkin vines resembled the required tubing. She swiftly connected the porcelain bottle—now containing the blood—to the vine, attached the syringe needle, and inverted it.

This took mere blinks of an eye, but to Qi Yue, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

Blood began to drip from the needle.

Qi Yue clenched her fist and let out a sharp cry.

“Master, didn't you say that transfusing blood with mismatched types is fatal?” Zhang Tong asked.

“Nothing is absolute,” Qi Yue replied, piercing the patient’s vein with the needle. A disciple immediately brought over a stand to hang the porcelain bottle.

Qi Yue looked up at the bottle, the red of the blood faintly visible through the pumpkin vine tubing.

“In the first three hundred years after the invention of blood transfusion, many lives were lost due to incompatible blood types, or even just incompatible vessels. But despite that, many lives were ultimately saved,” she sighed. “So, treating illness is often like gambling.”

Three hundred… three hundred years…

How had he never heard of this?

Perhaps his Master’s Master was truly an immortal figure? And these techniques were all derived from some mythical immortal mountain overseas, a place where seasons knew no change.

Zhang Tong looked up at the transfusion apparatus made of pumpkin vine, unsure what expression to wear…

Gods…

Only a deity could conceive of such an unbelievable method.

Meanwhile, the disciples quickly administered the anti-shock herbal decoction they carried, using needles and moxibustion—every technique they knew was deployed—literally pulling the man back from the very gates of Yama.

“Can you hear me now?” Qi Yue shouted loudly, reaching a hand toward the man. “I am a doctor; do you know what happened to you?”

The man’s unfocused eyes looked at her, and his lips moved slightly.

Good, there was a response!

“Listen to me, don't be afraid. I am treating you now; you will be fine,” Qi Yue said.

“…No… no need… I am dead…” the man murmured, managing to speak.

When this sound reached the onlookers, the surrounding people cried out in astonishment.

He was truly saved! He was truly alive!

Of course, this didn’t mean the man was out of danger. In reality, he still lay on his side, and the bamboo pole piercing straight through his front and back presented a terrifying sight.

Qi Yue picked up the shears, bracing one hand against the pole while cutting the part protruding from his back.

“Master, should we cut the front part too?” the disciple asked, already prepared.

Qi Yue shook her head.

“No need,” she said, raising her hand. “Quickly, we must return to Qianjintang immediately for emergency thoracotomy exploration surgery.”

The disciples responded with a resounding “Yes,” and began preparing a stretcher.

“No, no…” the woman who had been trembling on the ground suddenly yelled out. “What, what are you doing…”

“His condition is critical; we need to take him back to Qianjintang for surgery,” a disciple hastily explained.

The woman gasped, her eyes wide.

“Here, right here, no, don’t go,” she stammered.

“It can’t be done here; the surgical environment is unsuitable,” Qi Yue said loudly. “Our Qianjintang, rest assured, is for saving lives.”

The old woman, who had fainted from the shock of the blood draw, woke up again. Hearing this, she crawled over and reached out to hit the woman.

“You damned soul, are you watching my son die?” she cried and cursed, simultaneously kowtowing toward Qi Yue. “Bodhisattva, Bodhisattva, please save my son…”

Qi Yue nodded. The disciples were already moving to lift the patient onto the stretcher when the woman lunged forward.

“No, no, you can’t take him away,” she shouted hysterically, her voice breaking, her expression bordering on madness.

Seeing her rush forward, the disciples quickly shielded the stretcher.

“Don’t move, don’t bump him.”

“…Careful of secondary injury!”

“Block her…”

The scene instantly descended into chaos.

Has this woman gone mad from excessive grief? Qi Yue grew anxious. She stepped forward, took a deep breath, and tried to explain, but the woman refused to listen, repeatedly insisting that they could not take him away, that he must stay here.

“Villagers, please help! We cannot delay any longer!” Qi Yue urgently called out to the surrounding onlookers.

The villagers looked at each other. A few women stepped forward.

“She can’t make a scene…”

“…If we delay further, he will be gone…”

Everyone managed to haul the struggling woman to the side.

“You can’t take him away,” the woman finally broke down and sobbed. “If you take him away, his death will be for nothing…”

What? This statement confused everyone, who dismissed it as the ravings of a distraught woman. They ignored her words and managed to pull her aside.

As the disciples shouted and lifted the patient, before they could even take a step, the area outside exploded into another frenzy of running and overturning things.

“Doctor, Doctor, help!” Four or five young servants screamed at the top of their lungs.

They had been shouting all the way to clear the road and get directions quickly.

Old Madam Xie sat outside her carriage, tapping her cane loudly against the wood.

“Shout, shout! Shout louder for me!” she croaked hoarsely.

Another person needed saving?

The crowd gathered outside the farmhouse gate stirred in panic and cleared a path.

Qi Yue and her disciples were momentarily stunned. Before they could react, four or five people rushed in, carrying someone.

“Doctor, Doctor!” Imperial Physician Zhou, taking the lead—running faster than a mother for her child—sprinted to Qi Yue’s side. “Save him quickly, save him quickly…”

He turned back to look, then froze, his excitement instantly draining away.

Madam Xie, lying on the door panel, was already cyanotic, her lips dark blue.

He stepped forward, checking for a pulse with one hand and touching her chest with the other.

“It’s over, it’s over. No heartbeat, no hope, no hope…” he muttered regretfully. What a shame he wouldn’t witness the divine skill now.

Old Madam Xie, who had followed closely behind, felt her legs weaken and was supported by Chang Yuncheng. Before she could speak, she saw Qi Yue stride forward.

“Acute laryngeal obstruction, severe respiratory distress!” Qi Yue called out at a glance, shoving the physician, who was still shaking his head and sighing, aside. She planted herself before the still-carried Madam Xie, pulling the woman’s head back. “My needle!”

Her disciples had developed an automatic reaction to her commands; without hesitation, someone produced a needle with a syringe and rushed over.

Qi Yue snatched it without the slightest pause or hesitation, plunging the gleaming, slender needle straight into Madam Xie’s throat area.

The surrounding onlookers shrieked.

Today’s succession of shocking events had overwhelmed some of the women, who finally fainted with their eyes rolled back, while the men watching began to scream just like the women.

So terrifying! So terrifying! (To be continued.)