"There's an old woman who used to cook for the Wu Family," the village chief said, looking troubled. "But she's old, in poor health, and not quite right in the head. Most importantly... sigh, you'll see when we get there."
When they heard that someone from the Wu family who knew what had happened was still alive, everyone naturally wanted to see her. But before they could set off, the villager who had led them earlier returned with someone.
It was a man, well along in years, with a gray-white beard. He wore a straw raincoat and a bamboo hat, and had a cloth bag slung at his waist. He looked exactly like the village doctor everyone imagined.
"Village chief, the doctor's here," the villager said ingratiatingly.
"Quick, take a look at this gentleman's injury first." The village chief hurriedly waved him over.
Once Jia Jinliang had settled down and removed the cloth wrapped around his severed limb, the sight before them made the Fatty draw a sharp breath.
The stump was a bloody mess, covered in a thick layer of black powder. Now mixed with blood, the powder had turned into a sticky clump.
"Incense ash," Chen Hao said softly, his eyes fixed on the wound.
Through the wound, they could see the pale, splintered ends of bone. Some scraps of flesh hung from the edges like torn cotton, and black-red blood kept trickling down them.
Lei Mingyu narrowed his eyes. He could tell the injury hadn't been caused by a blade. The limb had been smashed off.
Du Moyu's face paled. He parted his lips slightly but made no sound. From the shape of his mouth, he seemed to be saying, That's brutal.
Even the doctor seemed to find the injury difficult to deal with. He raised his