Not only the Daqi tribe has a medical record of malaria infection, but other tribes have also appeared one after another people with diarrhea, famine and disease, so that the living environment of human beings is in the abyss.

Weak tribes are on the verge of collapse, and as people continue to die, humans become beasts in order to survive, and neighboring tribes begin to loot and kill for food, even people of the same tribe, for a mouthful of food, killing each other is not uncommon.

The most tragic thing is the babies, the defeated tribes, the children and babies become delicious food.

Piles of white bones silently witness the cruelty of this era.

On the side of the Daqi tribe, when Yang Hao tried to experiment, two more prisoners of war showed similar symptoms.

The speed with which the disease spread made him worried, and if malaria was not brought under control soon, his tribe would suffer heavy casualties.

It may be that God is deliberately making things difficult for him, after Yang Hao fed the first patient with a boiled decoction, the next day, the patient stopped breathing in pain.

The failed experiment made Yang Hao extremely irritable, and cursed at the thief countless times.

After calming down, I can only continue to try on the remaining two patients.

The first artemisia plant has been declared invalid with the death of the first patient.

Yang Hao could only pin his hopes on the remaining two kinds of artemisia grass.

According to the previous method, two kinds of artemisia herbs were made into a decoction and two patients were given to take them.

The rest was to observe, but to his surprise, the prisoner of war who was in charge of feeding the medicine and food showed no signs of infection, which made him feel that this guy's luck was good.

Panic spread among the tribes, and because Yang Hao forbade the worship of ghosts and gods at will, the clansmen who were afraid of death secretly prayed to the heavens in private, begging for the gods' forgiveness.

The prisoners of war of the Great Qi tribe were undoubtedly lucky, and they were not pushed onto the altar as a sacrifice to appease the wrath of the gods, as was the case with other tribes.

Fortunately, Yang Hao still has some common sense about the transmission route of malaria, and under the intentional prevention, except for these three unlucky ghosts, there are no new patients for the time being.

After a day of observation, Yang Hao was pleasantly surprised to find that the condition of one of the patients had improved, which made him very encouraged, and after confirming that Artemisia grass was indeed effective, Yang Hao immediately asked people to step up the collection of this Artemisia grass.

Good luck finally patronized Yang Hao, and after taking the decoction for four days, one of the patients had no signs of diarrhea, and although his body was weak, he was able to eat and drink by himself.

Yang Hao knew that it was just a weak body, as long as the nutrition kept up, healing was not a problem.

After two days of observation, Yang Hao was released from isolation until the two patients were able to walk freely.

The two who escaped death were grateful to Yang Hao, knelt in front of Yang Hao, put their heads deep on the ground, and expressed their gratitude with the most pious etiquette.

"Wu!"

I don't know who shouted, and in an instant, hundreds of people shouted the same word "Wu" in unison. ”

Such a scene made Yang Hao feel a little weird, he understood what Wu represented in this era, that was the spokesman of God in the mortal world.

But Yang Hao didn't want his credit to be shared by that bullshit god at all.

"Fuck, it was Lao Tzu who saved you bastards, but it's not a god, Lao Tzu is a medical skill, it's science, dare to insult me with bullshit witches, it's unreasonable."

Yang Hao thought indignantly in his heart.

But seeing these people so excited, he also knew that explaining to these idiots what Chinese medicine is and what medical skills are at this time is simply insulting his own IQ.

In desperation, Yang Hao could only unwillingly let them label himself as a witch.

Since then, Yang Hao has a new identity, that is, Wu.

Although he was very dissatisfied with becoming a witch, Yang Hao soon tasted the benefits of this title for himself.

Whether it was a prisoner of war or a clansman, in addition to the awe of the power of the leader, the eyes that looked at Yang Hao were more of a fear and worship of unknown forces.

After this incident, the prisoners of war were much more obedient than before, and there were sporadic destruction of labor tools before, but now, Yang Hao's work will be completed by the prisoners of war very seriously.

In their hearts, a man who can heal a lowly life with great magical power must be a messenger of the gods, and most people are convinced of it.

After Yang Hao heard what they said to him, he couldn't laugh or cry, he thought that he had integrated into this era, but now he found that even if he behaved like these natives, some things could not be changed, such as the strange brain circuits of these people.

Although the idea of the prisoners of war was a little ridiculous to Yang Hao, he was still happy to see the good results produced by this.

Not far from the Great Qi tribe, the Sanshu Kingdom, although the center of the flooding of the principle, was still affected.

Although there were no casualties, large areas of fields were washed away, and the reduction of grain production this year is already a sure thing.

Winter is not far away, and the monarch of the Three Heavens is worried about it.

There is food left, and if you eat it raw, you can barely survive the winter, but things will be so simple there.

The tribes in the Central Plains are all vassal forces of those big clans after the summer, and in addition to leaving a part of the grain for themselves, the rest is paid tribute to those big clans in the form of protection money, which is called tribute.

The monarch of the Sanxi Kingdom, who had already been overwhelmed, was in the mood to pay attention to the trivial matter of the destruction of the Fengxi tribe at this time.

The impending famine made his hair gray a lot.

"Priest, what should be done to my people?"

The bitter and unscrupulous monarch of the Three Heavens has wisely pinned his hopes on the wisest priests.

But where is the priest in any good way, at this time the gods are angry, and he, a small mortal, can still rebel against the sky.

The priest sighed leisurely and said: "Monarch, this matter is beyond the reach of manpower, now we can only store as much food as possible, those vassals of our clan, we have been protecting for so long, this year's tribute, should also be added." ”

The Monarch of the Three Heavens hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowed, and he muttered, "It's time for them to contribute more." ”

Big fish eat small fish, small fish eat millet, the cold laws of nature are ruthlessly staged in human society.

Tribes without strength are powerless to resist at all, and can only watch their precious things being ruthlessly plundered.

The breath of death enveloped both sides of the river, and human tragedies were staged, with corpses everywhere and starvation everywhere, like the Shura Hell.