Zhang Yanhong stepped in front of Chen Dong: "Uncle, I really haven't been deceived, and if you don't believe it, you can let Chen Dong try."
"See if his medical skills are effective."
At that moment,
next to Zhang Chaotian, a man about fifty scrutinized Chen Dong closely and scoffed disdainfully, "Mr. Zhang is absolutely right, this man definitely does not understand medical skills, and he isn't a doctor at all."
"Just look at his clothes—don't they resemble the attire of someone who frequently works in the fields in the village? Especially the camo pants and rubber-soled shoes, even smeared with mud."
"Now look at his hands—rough and calloused, typical of someone who often engages in farming."
"How could such a person possibly understand medical skills?"
Zhang Yanhong's complexion looked grim, she glanced at the speaker and asked, "And who might you be?"
