Xiao Xian heartlessly left with Yun Yun, leaving behind only Jia Xingtian, disheveled in the wind, and Gu He lying on the ground, dead or alive unknown.
Jia Xingtian was in somewhat better shape. Though seriously injured, he could still move; he simply could not engage in intense combat with others.
But Gu He was miserable. Xiao Xian's cold snort had shattered every bone in his body, while spiderweb-like cracks covered his internal organs. Heaven knew how many liters of blood he had vomited. He was in an utterly wretched state.
If Gu He's chest had not still been rising faintly, proving that he still had one last breath in him, Jia Xingtian would have thought he was already dead.
The old fellow was indeed badly hurt. The injuries on his body were still a minor matter—so long as his cultivation remained, he would not die anytime soon.
But Xiao Xian was wicked to the core. He had actually sealed Gu He's Dou Qi. Without Dou Qi to heal his wounds, even if the old fellow was ultimately saved, he would have to lie in bed for a year or half.
It had to be said that this punishment was already severe enough. Being bedridden and unable to move for a year was simply more unbearable than death. It was no life for a person.
Jia Xingtian silently cursed his rotten luck, but he did not dare abandon Gu He alone in the desert. He could only painfully take out a few of his remaining Healing Pills, feeding one to Gu He before swallowing another himself.
After roughly the time it took an incense stick to burn, Jia Xingtian finally felt his injuries ease somewhat. Though his entire body still ached, it no longer affected his ability to fly through