Dong Lin only recently discovered that his martial niece was in Mobei, not because he was well-informed, but because he learned it from Zhou Maochun. Zhou Maochun had gone straight to Mobei to find Madam Qi, and the rumor that he had even fathered a child with her was now a source of amusement.

Dong Lin set down the letter in his hand. For him, there was no greater pleasure than seeing others maligned.

He let out a satisfied sigh. This was, for him, the perfect opportunity.

Now things were set; he didn't even need to lift a finger. This woman was inherently trouble, and better yet, Liu Pucheng had gone there too.

Now, none of them would escape unscathed. For this woman to dare cause trouble at the border, involving matters the Emperor held most dear—military affairs.

Dong Lin looked down at the letter again. "...to treat military officers as playthings..." This single phrase was enough to give this woman and the entire Thousand Gold Hall faction something substantial to chew on.

"Men! Men!" he called out loudly.

The young servant waiting outside immediately entered. "Grind ink," Dong Lin commanded.

The night deepened, and the Lantern Festival night market in the capital slowly unfolded. Almost every street was illuminated with lights—red, yellow, blue, and green—and with the festival imminent, the streets were even more lively and prosperous.

Such vibrancy was indispensable for Fan Yilin, especially given his current status. "...It’s truly not easy to get a moment with you, lad..." "...A few new courtesans have arrived at the Red Fragrance Tower recently; I'll treat you, let’s go have a look..." A large crowd surrounded Fan Yilin, escorting him toward the finest restaurant.

Laughter mingled with the bright lights, and flattery echoed with the street vendors' cries. Compared to the easygoing smile of Li Tong beside him, Fan Yilin still possessed a certain grating smugness that made one want to kick him.

"...I'm swamped lately..." he declared loudly, as if wanting the whole world to know about his importance. Too many people were coming and going, and their large group instantly clogged the entrance to the restaurant.

Someone exiting bumped into them accidentally. "What are you doing?

Eyes on the road!" the person's servant snapped irritably. This was trouble.

This line was usually reserved for Fan Yilin and his cohorts to say. To have their line stolen meant they couldn't let it go.

They immediately began shouting in a clamor, eager to see who this heedless individual was. It was a young gentleman, dressed in fur robes, handsome and refined, carrying an air of scholarly grace.

He offered the crowd a slight smile, nodded in deference, and then turned to chastise his own servant. Seeing that the young man was so sensible, Fan Yilin, now a person of some standing, decided not to make an issue of it and waved his hand, allowing them passage.

"Look clearly, that is Minister Fan's young master," someone warned the young gentleman. The young man, who had already stepped out onto the street, stopped and turned back upon hearing this.

"Young Master Fan, a pleasure, a pleasure," he said, smiling faintly. "How have you been lately?" "Very well," Fan Yilin replied reflexively, only realizing after answering—Who is this?—and Why is he asking how I've been?

as if they were old acquaintances. Who was he?

He was about to ask, but the young gentleman had already walked into the throng of the street. In any case, more and more people knew him recently; it was unavoidable—he was just too popular.

Fan Yilin chuckled twice and, paying no further mind, followed his entourage into the establishment. "Third Young Master, they clearly bumped into you first," the servant murmured aggrievedly.

"How many times have I told you, in the capital, under the Son of Heaven's gaze, one must yield in all things," the young gentleman said, his expression placid. "That man is the Fan family's young master, and he has now aligned himself with Elder Li.

He is enjoying a time of great prosperity." "So what? Is our Residence of the Settling Marquis inferior to the Fan family?

Never mind the Fan family; with our Heir Apparent here, even Elder Li must show some respect," the servant grumbled, clearly unconvinced. Chang Yunqi stopped his steps.

The servant, confused, quickly halted as well. "That is the Heir Apparent, not me," Chang Yunqi said slowly.

The servant snapped back to attention, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Then, Young Master, when the Palace Examinations come in the spring, if you score first place, you will be truly formidable.

Even the Heir Apparent’s military merits won't compare to yours," he quickly tried to salvage the situation. Chang Yunqi looked at him and shook his head.

"We are brothers, one family. Why compare?" he said.

The servant stuck out his tongue and fell silent. Chang Yunqi turned and continued forward.

Though night had fallen, the streets remained bustling, and there were many more elegantly and richly dressed women than usual, the air thick with the scent of perfume. A group of women wearing cloaks of various colors walked toward him, laughing.

One among them had a particularly somber expression, setting her apart from the rest and drawing attention. Chang Yunqi couldn't help but look twice, but the women soon brushed past.

"Miss Rao," Chang Yunqi suddenly stopped, the name escaping him involuntarily. Despite the clamor and noise, the woman who brushed past heard him precisely.

She paused, startled, and turned to look in the direction of the voice. Under the brilliant night lamps, the young gentleman nodded and smiled faintly at her.

The discussions concerning Qi Yue and the Thousand Gold Hall disciples causing trouble and making a scene were becoming more widespread, so much so that the disciples themselves were beginning to feel the impact. After all, in the past, although their actions drew criticism, they were immediately effective in shattering those criticisms.

But now, their treatment of the wounded soldiers in the infirmary had yielded no results, and they were refusing consultations from commoners, only repeating simple first-aid methods without doing anything more. Moreover, these first-aid techniques were not particularly specialized; they were merely stopping bleeding and bandaging—skills any physician possessed.

How could that save lives? Gradually, doubts began to surface among the disciples themselves.

Qi Yue had always ignored external questioning, but when her own disciples harbored doubts, she knew she had to address them. If she didn't believe in what they were doing, how could they perform it well?

This was precisely why she used her own disciples instead of training the army surgeons, even though, technically, the military doctors were more practiced and skilled than her students. In the lecture hall, after finishing her lesson, Qi Yue did not dismiss everyone as usual to move into simulated practice.

Instead, she tapped the whiteboard, signaling them to be quiet. "I have a few informal words for you all," Qi Yue said with a smile.

The disciples were somewhat surprised. For the past few days, preparing medicine, organizing various equipment, lecturing, demonstrating, practicing—every minute was strictly scheduled.

Aside from eating and sleeping, even bathroom breaks were timed. There had been no opportunity for casual talk.

"I know that from the first day you arrived here until now, a month has passed, and you have all been incredibly busy. But to outsiders, it seems like we've done nothing, that we're merely putting on a show," Qi Yue said with a wry smile.

The disciples could only offer bitter smiles in response. "However, I can tell you this: we have not been idle.

Everything we are doing now is laying groundwork, paving the way for battlefield first aid," Qi Yue continued. "Battlefield first aid is simple because the wounds inflicted in combat are visible at a glance, requiring no diagnosis.

But it is also not simple because the environment differs vastly from our daily habits. This environment can be summarized in one word: danger..." As she said this, Hu San below immediately raised his hand.

"Master, that’s five words..." he reminded her. At this, some people couldn't help but laugh, but quickly stifled it as they remembered themselves.

Qi Yue laughed heartily and held up her hand. "It is danger," she repeated, counting on her fingers.

The room erupted in hearty laughter, sweeping away the tense and stagnant atmosphere. The disciples seemed to let out the pent-up frustrations in their hearts as well.

"Danger," Qi Yue continued, her smile slowly fading. "We are in danger, the wounded are in danger.

Are you all afraid of danger?" "Master, my grandfather died in bed while sleeping. When I was little, I was afraid to sleep or even get into bed.

My father nearly kicked me to death, saying a man's fate is predetermined; however you are meant to die is how you will die. Why bother hiding?

Life is not easy; since we are alive, we should live it fully. What good is living while constantly fearing this and guarding against that!" A disciple suddenly stood up and declared loudly.

"Exactly, Master, since we chose the path of medicine, this is our fate!" "If being a doctor is dangerous, what isn't? My second uncle was a fisherman, did he never drown?" "...Is plague not dangerous?

Who among us feared that!" Amidst the reciprocal declarations, the atmosphere in the room became fervent. Qi Yue looked at them and smiled.

"Of course, not fearing is one thing, but you cannot intentionally rush toward danger," she chuckled. "This type of danger is far less than the danger faced by the soldiers on the front lines." At this time, pitched battles in open fields were rare.

After all, one had to avoid the sharp edge of the formidable Dongnu cavalry. Furthermore, the Dongnu’s goal was merely plunder, and there was little to take in open terrain.

Thus, siege warfare and defense were the primary modes of combat now. "We have the protection of the city walls, the defense of layers of soldiers.

As doctors, we are quite safe in the rear. Moreover, dealing with these kinds of wounds requires one..." Qi Yue said, pausing to count on her fingers this time, "...one word: speed." Speed?

"This is why the timing requirements during our drills have been so strict," Qi Yue went on. "Stop bleeding fast, bandage fast, stabilize and transport fast, triage injuries fast.

Speed—it is the same on the battlefield. Whoever is one second faster gains an edge.

Although these drills have seemed chaotic, I want to tell you: your speed is increasing, and your coordination with each other is becoming smoother. This means you are on the right path.

If you adhere to it strictly, the results will be astonishing." The disciples, caught up in the exercises and unaware of the overall context, had been panicked by the constant sounds of laughter around them. Hearing their master give such a satisfied assessment, they all breathed a sigh of relief, and their spirits were significantly boosted.

"Although, I sincerely wish I would never see this result come to fruition," Qi Yue sighed again. The excited disciples quieted down again.

Indeed, the time for doctors to display their prowess was when people were suffering from pain and illness. It was truly...

"However, as the saying goes: hope for the best, prepare for the worst," Qi Yue said, then sighed again, looking out the window. The first lunar month was nearly over; the approach of spring was slow but steady.

The river water was almost thawed; the flowing water could be seen beneath the thick ice. The dense, withered grass swayed a few times, seemingly moved by the wind.

Immediately afterward, a figure slid down the earthen slope, crouching near a ditch where three or four people were stationed, with four horses nearby. "Er Dan, how many?" they asked hurriedly.

The one who slid down the slope was a small, thin man, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, with a wreath of straw wrapped around his head. "Five," he said, his eyes alight with excitement.

The eyes of the others brightened instantly. "Should we go for it?" one whispered.

"Five against five carries risks," an older man murmured thoughtfully. "But the operational map is on those Tatars!

We’ve chased them for so long, and finally, only these few are left. If we manage to seize it, it will be a great service," someone couldn't help but say.

This statement galvanized everyone. After a moment of silence.

"We do it," the elder spat out the straw in his mouth, his tone firm. Hearing this, everyone rushed to their horses to prepare their gear.

As scouts, they were excellently and fully equipped: swords, axes, javelins, ropes, and hand crossbows, among other things. "Should we take this too?" a short man pulled out a strip of white cloth.

Everyone looked over and saw it was the tourniquet the higher-ups had recently issued, claiming it could save lives. "What use is this one piece of white cloth?

It's probably some supplier trying to swindle money," the elder shook his head, speaking authoritatively. Being the most senior, he knew the most.

After saying this, he tossed the cloth aside and secured a flying shuttle weapon to himself. Seeing his example, the others discarded their cloths too, only the thin youth hesitated for a moment before tucking the white strip into his waistband.

Young men were always a bit more fearful of death; everyone smiled, finding it unremarkable. "Alright, you two flank from the left and right, and you and I will approach from the center," the elder instructed, pointing with his hand.

"Kill these Tatars, seize the operational map—you and I will earn great merit. Even if we die, our families will be taken care of.

We fight for it!" "Fight for it!" they all whispered, striking their hands together heavily, and then dispersed.