"Hmph..."
Unaccustomed to Chen Yi's fingers lingering on her abdominal muscles, Min Ning let out a muffled grunt. Her taut stomach tightened inward as she propped herself up with one hand. After a moment of pause, she pressed her shoulder lightly against Chen Yi's.
Min Ning didn't brush his hand away. Instead, her gaze settled on his body, covered in wounds. "Zunming..."
Chen Yi's fingers paused at the central line of her abdomen. Catching her gaze, he chuckled softly, "It's nothing, just a few scratches. A few days of training, and they'll heal."
Across the world, no matter the distance, martial artists were known for their powerful healing abilities. Minor injuries rarely left lifelong scars, and those who practiced external hardening techniques could even heal deep wounds seamlessly—unless deliberately leaving them as a reminder for oneself or as a warning to others.
