As Lu Chuan spoke, the Chongming Bird's head drooped listlessly again.
It was about to die.
Just now, managing to raise its head and glance at the newcomer had already been its limit. Now, all it could do was wait for death.
"Hey, you don't believe me, do you?"
Lu Chuan crouched down and chuckled. "Little wild chicken!"
But this time, the Chongming Bird merely gave him a faint look.
Its eyes did not blaze with fury, nor did it flap its wings and try to stand up to deal with him.
In the face of death, even if someone cursed you viciously, it seemed to become not quite so important.
Seeing this, Lu Chuan stopped teasing it.
His original intention had been to tease the Chongming Bird a little and get its spirits up, but it seemed it no longer had that much spirit left.
Lu Chuan took out a small porcelain bottle and poured a spiritual pill from it. The Chongming Bird lay quietly on the ground, watching Lu Chuan's movements.
"See this?"
Lu Chuan smiled. "This is a miraculous spiritual medicine money can't buy. Now open your mouth!"
A trace of gratitude appeared in the Chongming Bird's eyes, but then it shook its head, signaling that Lu Chuan need not waste his effort.
It knew its own injuries.
Aside from the immortals' spiritual medicines, the medicines and stones of the mortal world were utterly useless and had no effect on its wounds at all.
But how could a youth possibly possess the immortals' pills?
"Hey, little wild chicken, you still dare to pick and choose? This is called 'treating a dead chicken as if it were a live one,' understand?"
Lu Chuan glared. "Yes, yes, that's exactly the man-eating look I want. Think about it—only if you're