Though his thoughts were in turmoil and he had let his guard and awareness slip,
he still had the foundation of an eighth-rank fighter. How could someone have come right up to him without his noticing?
He abruptly looked up and saw a figure shrouded in a black robe, seemingly blending into the night. Beneath the black hood was a strangely styled mask shaped like a monkey's face.
In a flash of inspiration, Fan Jian knew this was the person Fan Xian had been waiting for!
He had finally arrived!
"Fan Xian has been waiting for you!"
Fan Jian could spare no thought for anything else, his voice hoarse and urgent.
A glimmer of hope suddenly sprang into his bloodshot eyes.
Zhou Cheng nodded without saying much and pushed the door open.
Fan Jian clenched his hands tightly together. After a moment's hesitation, he did not follow Zhou Cheng inside.
He still remembered what Fan Xian had said about infection.
He refused to expose Fan Xian to even the slightest additional danger at a time like this!
As Fan Jian stopped outside the door, his heart sizzling as though in hot oil, Zhou Cheng casually closed the door behind him and saw Fan Xian lying on the bed.
Several crumpled white cloths covered his body.
From their appearance, the cloths had probably been washed and soaked in boiling water, then quickly dried.
Fan Xian's consciousness was already hovering on the brink of death.
Just as Fan Xian felt he could hold on no longer and prepared to use his last breath to tell Senior Brother Leng to operate-to treat a dead horse as though it were still alive-Zhou Cheng arrived.
Zhou Cheng's arrival immediately lifted Fan Xian's spirits.
Not only did his mind clear considerably, but even his pain and