The Three Brothers were all injured, but with Lu Chengwen supplying pills, and all three possessing exceptional healing abilities, it was nothing serious.
Zhao Ritian in particular had been unable to get up after lying in the formation for half the day, but now he was already on his feet and could even walk around.
The Great Elder was still vomiting.
He felt contaminated. It was like... the back of his head was throbbing, and for the first time, he felt that every sense in the human body could smell things.
It felt as though a stench was floating around beneath the cortex of his brain.
Forget gathering his qi—even breathing was difficult.
Lu Chengwen and Long Aotian dragged him over.
Drunken Elder stared at him helplessly, rubbing his face.
How was this supposed to count?
Had they agreed, or had they not?
If they had won... was that skill? It was luck, an excretory system, and Zhao Ritian eating a whole lot of roasted sweet potatoes.
If they had not won, then the Old Dean of the Elder Council was currently in such agony that ordinary people simply could not achieve this effect.
Drunken Elder stood up and sealed the Old Dean's acupoints.
Zhao Ritian dragged over his spiked mace. "I'll smash him to death."
Drunken Elder stopped him. "How are we supposed to question him if you smash him to death? Get him... some water. Clear his head."
The water arrived. The Old Dean sat on the ground, tilting his head back as he panted.
Zhao Ritian asked with concern, "Feeling better?"
The Old Dean looked at him with deep resentment. "You... stay farther away from me."
With a wave of Drunken Elder's hand, the Extreme Cold Shield instantly flew into his palm. The Old Dean could not