A few people walked into a "medical hall."
Calling it a medical hall was a stretch; it resembled more of those street fortune-telling and shamanic places, with talismans covered in ambiguous runes plastered everywhere. The air was filled with a foul stench and the smell of burnt yellow paper.
A frail old man with one blinded eye wore a robe adorned with a Tai Chi Bagua diagram.
He was the physician of this establishment.
The injured old man lay on a broad wooden bench. The frail old doctor paced around him, mumbling incessantly, though it was unclear what he was saying.
The old man glanced pitifully at Fan Wubing and Fu Manman standing nearby. His eyes were filled with immense sorrow and despair, appearing quite pitiably hurt to the ordinary observer.
Fan Wubing squinted and reassured with a smile, "Old man, don't worry, you'll be fine soon."
The burly man leading them laughed and said, "Young man, you have a good heart."
