The moment the middle-aged man vanished, Zhang Bin, who had been lying motionless on the ground like a corpse, suddenly leaped up. He had only one hand and one leg, and his throat had been slashed open.
But he still jumped up. With a WHOOSH, he landed beside Qian Bing and swiftly covered the man's throat with his left hand.
By then, Qian Bing had stopped breathing, and the hand clutching his own throat had gone limp. Nearly all his blood had drained out.
Yet, Zhang Bin still wanted to save him. Such a good brother, a man so devoted to his country and people… how could I bear to watch him die like this?
So, without taking a moment to treat his own wounds, he had to rescue Qian Bing first.
As for himself, he wouldn't die right away. He practiced the Qingmu Longevity Technique; even if his head were chopped off, he wouldn't breathe his last so quickly. What was a mere severed throat in comparison?
