"I'm not betting anymore!"
Haitang crossed her arms, huffed coldly, and turned her face away at a forty-five-degree angle, looking exactly like a sulky anime character.
The teardrop mole at the corner of her eye became even more conspicuous.
"Ha ha, then let's bet a month's salary, that should be fine, right?" Zhao Douan joked, knowing there's a fine line when bantering with female colleagues.
The journey was too tough, filled with constant fighting; he intentionally teased to lighten the mood.
"Agreed," Haitang sighed, "But before that, go check on those two quirky guards of yours. Do you even know what it means to win people's hearts? I think they were also injured."
"I understand." Zhao Douan smiled and walked back to the deck.
At a glance, he spotted the Martial Artist and Magician sitting in a corner of the deck, concentrating on their breaths.
Lang Shiba's palms were cracked, and he was pouring strong spirits from a ceramic bowl onto his wounds, grimacing in pain.
