A man lay on the bed, his original features no longer visible.
Demonic energy had swollen him full to bursting.
His uneven face resembled a desert in its rises and falls, constantly collapsing for no reason, constantly bulging for no reason.
His lower lip was red and swollen like a steamed bun dyed with brown sugar, while his upper lip was black and narrow like pickled mustard greens laid atop a bun. This made the two long needles used to part his lips look like a pair of chopsticks—as though they were probing in to pick something out to eat.
What a disgusting image.
The chief of the Azure Feather Patrol Office wore a complicated expression as he used the demon-dispelling needles in his hand to pry apart the grievously wounded man's lips and examine teeth that had already turned half-red, half-black.
The wounded man's consciousness had long since blurred, and he lay there stiffly, utterly motionless. This set of teeth, which ought to have decayed long ago, displayed unexpected tenacity. They remained tightly clenched together, and from time to time, lingering sounds squeezed through the gaps.
Listening carefully, the sound was shouting—
"Six thousand li, six thousand li, six thousand li..."
"Chief, when you hauled him back, had he reached six thousand li?" one of the Flying Fangs beside him asked.
"He was still nine hundred li short," Huyan Jingxuan said.
"I thought he was pretty brave. Turns out he was that far off." The Flying Fang clicked his tongue.
"The Border Wasteland has become much more dangerous lately. With his strength, under normal circumstances he should only have been about a hundred li short," Huyan Jingxuan said. "But every hundred li is a hurdle. That alone is enough for him to train through."
As he spoke, he removed