On the Pamir Plateau, several small spacecraft landed, carrying away all the corpses and clearing up the mecha Old Chen had smashed apart.
Mo Hai, Xia Qing, and Chen Kai were no exceptions. They were laid on cold stretchers, their bodies covered by several feet of white cloth.
Wang Xuan sighed with emotion. He had to be cautious, had to live well, and could not afford the slightest carelessness. Even Great Grandmasters had ended up like this, while he was still some distance behind the three of them.
"Little Wang, what are you sighing about? You kicked one Great Grandmaster to death yourself," Wu Chenglin said.
Wang Xuan felt that Old Wu had done it on purpose. He did not want anyone bringing up that achievement now; he wanted to keep a low profile and muddle through unnoticed.
Medium-sized spacecraft also landed on the frozen ground to rescue the wounded. Their cabins held advanced medical equipment and highly professional medical personnel.
The severely wounded were swiftly carried away, while the lightly wounded were bandaged on the spot. Before long, all of them had received treatment.
Wang Xuan also went over, having Qing Mu put in a word for him. He pretended to be gravely injured, claiming that his heart and lungs had been ruptured by the shock and that his injuries were serious.
It was all for the sake of keeping a low profile. He did not want to become a rising star of Old Arts in other people's eyes, much less be branded as Old Chen's successor.
Qing Mu did indeed go to find someone, but a new female medic arrived midway and told Wang Xuan that there was nothing wrong with his body, that it was far stronger than an ordinary person's.
Wang Xuan whispered to her that