Bai leaned closer to the bottle, carefully sniffing it with her little nose. It was not that she feared the Buddha had poisoned her; it was simply that the thing did not look very tasty, and it was even bubbling.
The smell did not seem particularly awful.
It was cool and carried a faint sweetness, very refreshing. The taste should be alright too—she had watched the change in the Buddha's expression when he drank it earlier.
She brought it to her lips and took a small sip.
She stuck out her little tongue to lick her lips, narrowing her eyes as she carefully savored the flavor.
Hmm...
She took another sip. The previous one had been too small, and she had not tasted anything.
It was sweet, much like the scent she had smelled earlier. It was icy cold, and beyond that, the texture was strange as well—countless tiny bubbles rose and burst in her mouth.
For some reason, she felt that she might have been drinking it wrong, and she recalled how the Buddha had drunk it earlier.
She slightly lifted her chin, aiming the mouth of the bottle at her somewhat pale lips.
Gulp, gulp, gulp...
"Phew—cough, cough, cough..."
She drank nearly half the bottle in one go, and an indescribable sense of comfort washed over her. Yet she choked and could not help coughing, instinctively clutching her injured shoulder at the same time.
"Eh?!"
Bai let out a startled cry and looked at her injured shoulder. The dense white scales had vanished, leaving skin as pale and smooth as congealed cream, without the slightest trace of injury.
Under normal circumstances, even with spiritual medicine to assist her, such an injury would have taken at least several dozen days to heal completely.
Yet in the blink of an