Qing Yi had no choice but to ask the doctor to wait on the first floor, ready to call him if needed.
The dim secret chamber was filled with a faint smell of blood.
On the smoking ice bed, a man in black was sitting cross-legged, his face exposed without the mask was marked with spots of dried blood, which stood out sharply against his pale complexion.
The ice bed beneath the man was stained red with his blood.
Ye Yin sat cross-legged behind the man, channeling energy to heal his injuries.
It wasn't until dawn that she stopped.
"Master, how are you feeling?" Ye Yin retracted her hands and stepped off the ice bed to face the man.
"...It's fine."
The man's condition still looked far from good.
His injuries were much more severe than Wen Xiao'ai's.
That last strike was a desperate gamble, costing him nearly his entire life.
"What happened, who injured you?"
"Wu Zhihan's ghost came for revenge, I went to save Yingying," the man explained briefly.
