"Where is Cheng now?" Zhao Rong's voice was urgent, and he stepped out the door with Quan Ziju, "Are any other disciples injured?"
"Next to Tingfeng Terrace, in the Qin Xuan, An, who is skilled in pharmacology, is currently applying medicine to him. Although the two knife wounds on his back are not fatal, he has suffered greatly; the bones are visible deep within the wounds."
"No one else is injured, and Feng has even killed a skilled fighter in black."
"It turns out to be Wan Leibai, the old bandit from Hengzhou Prefecture who roamed around Anren, colluding with Lai Zhirui, bringing disgrace upon our sect!"
As Zhao Rong stepped into Qin Xuan, he saw several clumps of bloodied cloth scattered on the ground.
Cheng Mingyi lay on a brown table, exposing his back, with two ghastly wounds that resembled centipedes crawling up it.
He was a tough man; not a sound escaped him as An Zhien poured strong liquor over the wounds, making his whole body shiver.