Facing the crowd's accusations, Lin Yu remained composed and calmly explained, "Adding rhubarb does make the prescription stronger, but his condition absolutely requires it. Your formula focuses on warming yang and activating collaterals, but it lacks the necessary potency. Adding rhubarb to purge stagnation and guide out excess is the only way to cure him."

  "Nonsense!" Song Zheng retorted. "This illness clearly belongs to the Taiyang syndrome pattern, caused by mistakenly taking purgatives, leading to pathogenic factors sinking into the Taiyin, damaging the spleen, causing qi stagnation and collateral stasis, resulting in symptoms like abdominal fullness and pain." He had taken the patient's pulse very carefully and was certain he couldn’t be wrong.

  "You're not wrong," Lin Yu nodded.

  Song Zheng felt a flicker of pride.

  However, Lin Yu continued, "But the severity of abdominal pain varies. For this brother, the pain must be excruciating when it flares up, right?"

  "Absolutely unbearable—like someone is drilling into my stomach," the patient confirmed urgently.

  "When I took your pulse earlier, it was deep and steady, but the symptoms haven’t improved, and the harmony between nutritive and defensive qi is disrupted. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve already tried this prescription before." Lin Yu pushed Song Zheng’s written prescription toward the patient.

  The patient glanced at it, his eyes lighting up. "That’s right! This is the exact prescription I’ve been taking for over a week with no improvement. That’s why I came to Jishitang today."

  Song Zheng’s face paled. Impossible! He had taken extra care with the pulse diagnosis to avoid mistakes.

  The crowd erupted in murmurs, many feeling guilty for misjudging Lin Yu earlier. "Sorry, young man, we misunderstood you."

  "Turns out some people just ride on their reputation as a young prodigy without any real skill!"

  "Yeah, trying to fool us just because we don’t know better. Good thing there’s someone even more capable here!"

  Under the crowd’s mockery, Song Zheng’s face flushed with humiliation.

  "Take my prescription, and you’ll see improvement within days," Lin Yu said, sliding his formula toward the patient.

  Then, he looked up and reassured Song Zheng, "Your diagnosis wasn’t wrong, but Chinese medicine emphasizes observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking. Next time, ask the patient more, and you’ll avoid unnecessary detours."

  In truth, Song Zheng was genuinely talented. For someone his age to possess such medical skill was impressive, and Lin Yu respected that. The only flaw was his arrogance.

  "Hmph!" Song Zheng turned away, taking Lin Yu’s advice as sarcasm.

  "Old Master Song, what do you think of this prescription?" The patient still hesitated to trust Lin Yu—he seemed far too young.

  "Follow his prescription. It’s correct. Three doses will cure you."

  Having witnessed everything, Song Minghui sighed and stood up, motioning for Song Zheng to vacate the seat. He intended to take over personally.

  "Grandfather, I haven’t finished competing with him yet!" Song Zheng protested.

  "There’s no need. You’re no match for him. Starting tomorrow, double your studies."

  With so many people watching, Song Minghui couldn’t afford further embarrassment. While his grandson hadn’t made any major mistakes, his diagnoses had consistently fallen just short of Lin Yu’s.

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  In medicine, even the slightest difference could lead to vastly different outcomes.

  Now that Song Minghui was personally diagnosing, Lin Yu became more cautious. Unless he was absolutely certain, he carefully took the pulse before prescribing.

  Each time, Lin Yu’s prescriptions were nearly identical to Song Minghui’s. When they differed, Lin Yu’s versions were slightly superior, giving him a marginal lead overall.

  As the competition progressed, both grew more engrossed and developed a mutual admiration. Whenever their prescriptions matched, they exchanged smiles.

  Song Minghui’s earlier prejudice had completely vanished, replaced by respect.

  Soon, the outpatient cases dwindled, and dusk began to fall.

  The spectators, having witnessed such a thrilling duel, cheered enthusiastically. As the last patient was treated, the crowd broke into applause.

  To them, the contest had ended in a draw.

  Just then, a young couple squeezed through the door and scanned the room. "Excuse me, which one of you is Song Minghui, the divine physician?"

  "That would be me," Song Minghui responded promptly.

  "Divine Physician Song, please, save my husband!" The woman’s voice trembled with desperation.

  The man beside her looked pale and pained.

  "Don’t panic. Sit down. Describe the symptoms slowly," Song Minghui urged.

  "Divine Physician, I suddenly developed a strange illness recently. My back feels like it’s burning, drenched in sweat, and I’m extremely irritable. But from my lower abdomen down, it’s icy cold, as if soaked in freezing water. I suffer from frequent urination, and…"

  The man hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice. "And I experience nocturnal emissions every three or four days."

  "We’ve seen many doctors back home, but none could cure him. So we came to Qinghai for treatment. When we heard Jishitang was opening today, we rushed here. Please, you must save my husband," the woman pleaded urgently.

  The crowd murmured in astonishment. A condition where half the body burned while the other half froze? They’d never even heard of such a bizarre illness.

  "Open your mouth, let me see."

  After examining the man’s tongue, Song Minghui took his pulse, his expression serious at first, then gradually confident. With a smile, he gestured for Lin Yu to examine the patient as well, then began writing his prescription.

  When he finished, he noticed Lin Yu hadn’t moved. Amused, he said, "What’s wrong, Xiao He? Why aren’t you diagnosing? Our contest isn’t over yet. Have you conceded? Though I suppose it’s understandable—this condition is exceedingly rare."

  The crowd chuckled good-naturedly. After Lin Yu’s earlier display of skill, they held nothing but admiration for him.

  "The young man’s medical skills are outstanding, but he’s still a bit inexperienced."

  "I’ve never even heard of this illness. It’s no surprise he can’t diagnose it."

  "Still, he’s already exceptional. To accurately diagnose so many complex conditions at his age is remarkable."

  "In the entire field of Chinese medicine, there’s probably no one else as skilled and young as him!"

  The praise for Lin Yu was effusive.

  Wei Gongxun puffed out his chest slightly, proud to know him.

  "What’s the use of being skilled if he still lost to my grandfather?" Song Zheng muttered, clenching his fists in resentment.

  "At least he’s better than someone who gloats over minor achievements."

  "Exactly. Some people can’t accept being outmatched and just resort to sour grapes."

  "Young people should learn humility. Look at Dr. He—that’s how it’s done."

  The crowd no longer indulged Song Zheng, openly mocking him instead.

  Flushing red, Song Zheng shrank under the criticism.

  Lin Yu had remained silent. Seeing Song Minghui’s childlike grin, he couldn’t bear to reveal the truth—that he had already diagnosed the illness without even taking the pulse.

  Through their competition, Song Minghui had earned Lin Yu’s respect. Few doctors nowadays devoted themselves so selflessly to medicine, prioritizing patients over fame or profit.

  Jishitang’s herbs were of excellent quality and fairly priced, even slightly cheaper than market rates—proof of Song Minghui’s compassion.

  Moreover, the old physician’s competitive streak reminded Lin Yu of his own grandfather, evoking a sense of familiarity.

  He was tempted to concede, to let Song Minghui savor the victory. But when he saw the suffering man and his desperate wife, his conscience stirred.

  Out of duty to the patient, Lin Yu finally spoke. "Old Master Song, herbal medicine will take too long. I have a faster method."

  Song Minghui, mid-way through instructing the patient on decoction, paused. "A faster method? Xiao He, have you already identified the cause?"

  Lin Yu nodded.

  "But you didn’t even take his pulse!"

  "I didn’t need to. I’ve seen this condition before." Lin Yu’s tone was steady. Strictly speaking, his ancestors had encountered it.

  The crowd buzzed in astonishment. Even Song Minghui looked surprised—he’d only heard of this illness in theory and was encountering it for the first time. How could Lin Yu, so young, have seen it before?

  "Bragging without shame!" Song Zheng scoffed.

  He refused to believe Lin Yu had encountered such a rare condition, suspecting another charlatan act. But Lin Yu’s next words stunned him.