An old man stood where he was. The moment he turned around, Lu Chengwen felt his heart pounding.
The old man was about six feet tall—not fat, not burly, but built just right, with an imposing air about him.
He had a square face, a straight, high nose bridge, sharply defined features, large eyes, and thick brows.
His eyebrows were jet-black, with only a touch of gray at his temples.
He radiated authority even when he was not angry. When he was angry, he was even more imposing!
His voice was full and powerful, every word crisp and clear. "Speak! I've been hearing you say there's a Divine Doctor here. Who is it?!"
Lu Chengwen, Long Aotian, and Zhao Ritian all pointed at the unconscious Huo Wenbei. "Him!"
The martial artist, the woman, and the bald man all widened their eyes and clenched their fists. "Are you even human?!"
Lu Chengwen hurried over and patted Huo Wenbei's cheek. "Divine Doctor, wake up. Someone's here to see you."
He turned back to the old man. "Please wait. We'll torture him awake right away—no, I mean wake him up."
Zhao Ritian burst out laughing. "Long Aotian, give him another needle!"
Long Aotian looked at Zhao Ritian. "How can I practice medicine when I don't even know where to stick the needle?"
The old man narrowed his eyes. "Who exactly is the Divine Doctor?!"
The bald man stepped forward. "Who might you be, sir? What do you want with the Divine Doctor?"
As he spoke, he gave Long Aotian a smug look.
The martial artist slapped the bald man across the face. His head snapped aside, and he staggered back two steps, rubbing his cheek. "What a fast palm technique."
The woman was extremely tense. "This man's martial arts are very strong."
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