At this moment, even Yang An, silently watching this scene from another residence, had not expected it.
These bald monks' method of saving people was actually to smash open someone's skull?
What were they trying to do?
Blood continued to stream down, dripping onto the woman's neck and clothes.
In the blink of an eye, the woman's upper body was already covered in scarlet blood, wet and sticky.
Yet the woman's expression did not change in the slightest. Her entire body seemed petrified—utterly unmoved, as though she could feel no pain at all.
Jia Fugui's wife had already fainted. He held her in his arms and hurriedly called over several servants, telling them to carry her back to her room to rest.
"Master, my daughter, she..."
Jia Fugui watched with a tense expression, unable to stop himself from asking.
But before he could finish, one of the monks turned his head and glanced at him. He immediately did not dare continue.
"There are far more people in this city suffering from hidden ailments than merely this patron's daughter. Amid the teeming masses, all await our salvation. Speak no more."
Although the monk spoke calmly and unhurriedly, his words carried the force of a warning, imposing authority without anger.
"Yes!"
Jia Fugui nodded again and again, shutting his mouth in trembling fear.
Before these eminent monks of Great Virtue Temple, even though he was a wealthy merchant with ample means among ordinary folk, he had no right to speak. He could only keep watching from the side.
After warning Jia Fugui, the two monks exchanged a glance. The monk standing behind the woman rolled up his sleeve and reached into the top of her skull, removing the shattered bone fragments one by one.
A hole the size of an egg had