The room was brightly lit as the night gradually deepened.
Zhao Huai sat in a chair, while the girl in a green skirt lay on the ground. At this moment, Yan Jing bent down, tapping two fingers on the girl's wrist to check her pulse.
"How is she? Can she be saved?" Zhao Huai asked.
"Her injuries are severe, both her meridians and flesh body have been shattered. She can be saved, but it's difficult to remove the demonic qi in her body. It seems she has just experienced a fierce battle," Yan Jing said seriously, then took out a porcelain bottle from his bosom, poured out a medicinal pill, and put it into the girl's pale lips.
He used his True Qi to refine the medicinal pill.
The girl's pale cheeks showed a painful expression, and her forehead was accompanied by some sweat. After a while, her complexion gradually turned red.
Having done all this, Yan Jing turned around and looked at Zhao Huai, asking: