A World That Eats People

Meng Qi's daze lasted only an instant. He immediately pulled out all kinds of throat-healing medicine he had prepared from his Sumeru Ring, hurried to Jiang Zhiwei's side, helped her up, and fed it to her.

"Cough, cough. Monk, I never expected to run into you here."

After swallowing the medicine, some color returned to Jiang Zhiwei's pale face.

She had already spent a full month in this Horror World crawling with demons, and the throat-healing medicine she had brought with her had long since been used up.

At most, she had another two or three days before she would die. Yet, just as her strength was completely spent, she happened to encounter Meng Qi.

This was clearly no coincidence.

His palm pressed against her tattered clothes, soaked through with blood, and felt a slick, disgusting sensation.

Meng Qi had several sets of ordinary clothing in his Sumeru Ring for disguises, and they were just what they needed now.

As a Shaolin monk who aspired to the elegant bearing of a peerless swordsman in flowing white robes, it was perfectly reasonable for him to carry a few long robes around to show off.

The situation was urgent, and they were both jianghu people who had faced life and death together. Neither had the leisure to worry about the distinction between men and women.

Meng Qi consciously shut his eyes and turned his head aside. Jiang Zhiwei swiftly changed out of the blood-drenched clothes she wore.

After all, she was a powerful martial artist close to the Exterior Manifestation realm. Splitting mountains and shattering rocks were ordinary feats for her.

Though she could not regrow a severed limb, after taking medicine to replenish her vitality, she was certainly not some useless cripple too weak to move her hands and feet.

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