A hidden spot in a mountain hollow.
If a powerful Martial Gall Warrior or Literary Scholar approached this place, they would discover that someone had laid a sophisticated maze formation nearby.
At this hour, the night was deep and still, and all was silent.
Listen closely, though, and you could hear quite a few unconscious groans of pain.
Rip—
The young man in a Confucian robe tore the cloth into strips of roughly equal width.
Bending down, he wrapped one around the injured man.
When he was done, he tied a neat little knot.
"His injuries are rather serious, but fortunately, he'll live."
The lowest strip of cloth had already been stained red with blood.
Crimson—so dark it was almost black.
"As long as he's alive..."
Not far away, the young man with a head of gray-white hair quietly let out a breath of relief. He'd really thought Gongshu Wu was done for, but thankfully, he'd pulled through. The gray-haired young man was Chu Yao, who had split into two groups with the Zhai Huan brothers to retreat. The man lying on the ground was the unconscious Gongshu Wu.
As for the young man bandaging Gongshu Wu...
Chu Yao hadn't asked much.
They'd simply run into each other by chance.
Judging by the other man's skill with military maze formations, he was clearly no ordinary person. It was fortunate they'd crossed paths; otherwise—although Chu Yao was confident he could get away with Gongshu Wu, the forty-odd soldiers who were all that remained outside the cave would have been lost.
Thinking of this, Chu Yao's mind wandered for a moment.
After the battle at Xiaocheng, only this handful remained of the original seven or eight hundred. He wondered how Captain Yang would feel when he woke and saw this.
The young