"Really? I think so too."
Dorian praised his own handiwork, and Fu Qian played along, lifting the doll and giving his honest assessment.
There was no doubt the craftsmanship was good. As fellow artisans, he could say it was far better than the legendary Needle Witch Kelin's work.
The main problem was that Dr. Dorian didn't look like he was bragging.
"Do you need a doctor, outsider?"
Sure enough, after the doll had successfully piqued his interest, Dorian asked what Fu Qian wanted, sounding like he was trying to drum up business.
His eye was undoubtedly sharp, but this reaction was a little too much like the old lady's.
So, to these natives, was anything he did as an outsider just a passing shadow, leaving no trace?
In Dr. Dorian's eyes, was he merely a stranger who had come seeking medical treatment at the break of dawn?
Interesting.
His decision to collect more props had been the right one.
Fu Qian lowered his head and looked at what he was holding.
The next moment, instead of answering right away, he raised the sword and cut a wound into his left arm, deftly picking out a clot and flicking it away.
He even slowed the process deliberately, to make sure the other man could see it clearly.
"As you can see, yes."
Doctors really didn't like patients who tried to treat themselves.
For a while, not a sound came from the examination room. Even the eyes at the window had shifted out of sight.
Of course, Fu Qian knew perfectly well that the other man had only moved somewhere more concealed, where he could closely inspect the Murderous Weapon in his hands and presumably assess how dangerous it was.
That was entirely understandable. With his recovery deliberately suppressed, blood was