บท 1767: The Hard-Pressed Xiaoyuan

Ye Tingyun woke up the next day. He just had an operation, and after the anesthetic wore off, he was attacked by pain. There were bouts of darkness in front of his eyes. It was not easy for him to grit his teeth and bear with a wave of pain. His face was ghastly pale like paper. When his breathing got slightly heavier, he felt like he was being choked. He was like a blower that had leaked air. All his internal organs that should not have air entering were pierced sharply. He felt terribly sour.

"Where is Ye Chu?"