Under the watchful eyes of Chen Zhou and Paul, Tiger Third's spine, fixed by a splint and slightly sunken, quickly recovered. Its feeble hind legs suddenly twitched, but could not move at a wide angle due to the splint's restriction.
Paul hurriedly removed the splint.
Almost at the instant he took down the splint, Tiger Third stood up. Its body still looked somewhat gaunt, but appeared merely malnourished. Both its gaze and posture were filled with energy.
...
"Do you regret it?"
Chen Zhou pointed at the remaining injection in the box.
"Used it just like that."
Paul smiled nonchalantly: "Would Pasha Kotkin regret it on the Kachadin battlefield?"
Gazing at Paul's sharply-defined young face, Chen Zhou, for the first time, felt he was no longer like a child, but a mature warrior.
"Then if you're ever injured in the future, you better not talk about crap like 'giving up' or 'sacrifice'."
"Suicide is the most cowardly and also the easiest way out."
