Inside Shaolin Temple.
Wu Changqing looked at Wang Anfeng lying on the ground, his body covered in blood, as silver needles burst forth, nearly tearing the heavens and earth into silent, finely shredded pieces, and they steadily landed on the major acupoints around Wang Anfeng.
The best Divine Doctor in the world, after twenty-one years, had gone all out once again.
"Luoyu, go fetch the herbs!"
Before the words had even finished, Hong Luoyu had already risen up, with the spectral vision of a roc spreading its wings behind him, swirling up thousands of miles, and in a blink, he had returned, the winds of heaven and earth blocking the surrounding impurities, the purest breeze gently enveloping the young man.
Wang Anfeng's almost extinguished breath gradually stabilized.
The scholar in green robes slowly bent down and moved the blood-stained black hair away from Wang Anfeng's cheek.
The youth seemed to sense something and opened his eyes.