Bu Er and Jiang Zhizhou looked at the wound on Yang Qing's body, their throats tightening.
Just as Yang Qing had said, there was something strange about this wound.
And its strangeness was far beyond anything ordinary.
The more rotten flesh they removed, the more pronounced that peculiar smell became.
But as he continued, the hand in which Bu Er held the dagger trembled harder and harder.
If he kept digging deeper like this, there would be little flesh left on Yang Qing's back.
Keeping Yang Qing's body in good condition had already been an arduous struggle. If they kept cutting away at him now, a little recuperation would hardly make up for it.
The three of them were resting at the outermost edge of the woods. Yang Qing leaned against a wild peach tree that had fallen to the ground and broken in two.
As he looked at that wild peach tree, an unexpected thought rose in Yang Qing's mind.
He suddenly said, "Stop cutting away the flesh. Wait a moment."
Hearing Yang Qing's hoarse voice, Bu Er felt his eyes burn, and warm liquid welled out. Fortunately, he quickly realized he had lost his composure and raised a hand to wipe away that small patch of moisture.
"Give me your instructions, young master."
Yang Qing raised his hand and pointed at the wild peach tree. "Cut a few branches from that tree. Light them with the Fire Starter and smoke the wound."
Since ancient times, peach wood had been used to ward off evil and drive away malign spirits. With no cultivated peach tree available and only this wild one at hand, Yang Qing had no other choice. He could only give it a try, treating a dead horse as though it might still be saved.
Hearing Yang