Before long.
Zhao Rong, urged awake by the Sword Spirit, rolled over and lay on the grass, freeing his only remaining left hand to grab a large handful of spiritual medicine for treating injuries from the Sumeru Object in his bosom.
Many of these came from the Great Li kingdom's treasury.
The young Confucian scholar, his face smeared with blood, was barely breathing, and with a trembling left hand, he poured bottles of elixir pills onto the ground.
Then, his left hand fumbled around on the ground, grabbing a handful of elixir pills mixed with sand and dust, swallowing them down with blood like a hard pill to swallow…
The Sword Spirit anxiously felt the gradually stabilizing flow of qi in his body and breathed a slight sigh of relief.
