Thirteenth Son had suffered a devastating blow to the chest. His breathing and heartbeat had stopped, but his pupils had not yet dilated, and his body was still warm.
Wei Xun knew that he had practiced the internal art of Prajna Repentance since childhood. His muscles and bones were sturdy, far beyond those of ordinary children. Though the external injury was severe, his internal organs might not have suffered fatal damage. If Wei Xun devoted himself to saving him now, there might still be a thread of hope.
But Baozhu had just been abducted. If he set off in pursuit immediately, with his speed, he had a good chance of catching up in time, whoever his opponent was. The price, however, would be abandoning his junior brother's life.
In an instant, Wei Xun found himself caught between advancing and retreating, driven into a desperate corner. Both choices carried an irreversible cost, and he had no time to think.
Since Chen Shigu's death, this young junior brother, whose training was not yet complete, had always stayed by his side. Their bond was worlds apart from that of fellow disciples who appeared united but were divided at heart. Whatever happened, he could not stand by and watch Thirteenth Son breathe his last.
Wei Xun could only force himself to stop, despite the anguish. He quickly tore open his junior brother's clothes and saw a dark-red patch in the center of his chest, inflicted by a heavy punch. The bones had shattered, leaving the chest caved in.
Staking everything on one desperate gamble, Wei Xun struck the left side of Thirteenth Son's chest with Mirror Flower, Water Moon, the gentlest move in the Sunset Mist-Waves Palm. He reduced the force of his palm to a minimum, sending it through the ribs to stimulate