After the old lady and the patients were asked to leave, Mu Shaoling said, "Thereās no need for the rest to stay, prepare some medicinal ingredients for me first, I need to make some medicine."
"Didnāt you say you havenāt figured out how to cure it yet?" Ye Ziāan asked, puzzled.
"Are you stupid? I may not have figured it out specifically, but I know a bit. Without prescribing medicine, should I just watch them die?"
This person really is stupid. Donāt they know physicians always speak cautiously? Even if certain of ten parts theyāll claim eight, and with such unknown diseases, with not a shred of certainty, could he declare he knows the cure?
After a pause, he continued, "Actually, Iāve been researching ever since Auntie Hong died and have come up with a medicine. Before there was no subject to test it on, so I didnāt know its effects. These people are going to die sooner or later anyway, might as well try this medicine on them."
"Youāve already developed a medicine?" Ye Ziāan heard this with some surprise.
"Donāt get too excited. I donāt know if it will work."
With no one having tried the medicine, even Mu Shaoling himself didnāt have expectations, and furthermore, these peopleās symptoms were somewhat different from Auntie Hongās.
And indeed, Mu Shaolingās lack of expectation was justified.
After he took a day to prepare the powdered medicine and administered it to two of the critically ill along with a medicinal soup, it had no effect at all.
By the next day, both had died one after the other. Not only had there been no improvement, but the medicine also failed to even delay their deaths.
One of them was the son of the old lady.
Perhaps due to the consecutive deaths of her two sons from excessive grief, the old lady, clutching Mu Shaoling, insisted her son died because of his medicine.
"Old lady, your son would have died these few days even without the medicine, you should be clear on this," Ye Ziāan said, annoyed by her clinging to Mu Shaolingās sleeve and refusing to let go, and told Ye Yi, "Go pull her away from me."
"How many escape death once catching this disease?" Ye Ziāan then said to the old lady, "Whatās the commotion about? Your son was already gravely ill, maybe he would have died last night without the medicine. This doctor is a divine healer specially invited by the official to treat your condition. If you continue to cause a stir, believe it or not, even the government will not bother with you anymore, leaving you to fend for yourselves?"
"Pah, divine healer my foot! Who are you deceiving, more like a quack. If heās a divine healer, why couldnāt he cure my sonās illness? What divine healer, all charlatans!" The old lady was too heartbroken to watch her words.
"Charlatan?" Yang Chuxia stepped out of the inn, walked up to the old lady, and said, "Do you think a divine healer is an immortal, capable of magical revival, treating the dead flesh and mend bones? Heās human, not a deity. Do you know that this illness is a new sickness, one that has never appeared in records of the past hundreds or thousands of years? Whenever a new sickness appears, it requires corresponding medicine for treatment; where do these medicines come from?"
"Those medicines are what physicians research and improve step by step. Ever since the divine healer heard of this sickness, he has been diligently contemplating how to treat it, what medicine to take. The medicine given to the patients this time is newly developed; certainly, one must consume it to know if it works. If the medicine matches the symptoms, it can save a life; if not, the illness persists. Isnāt that perfectly normal?"