After killing Zhao Sheng, Zhou Tianlong felt a wave of weakness and exhaustion wash over him. Between the fierce battle and his injuries, his fighting strength was now less than thirty percent of its usual level.
He was already a hollow shell behind a strong facade, but Mu Zhihong and his two companions had been scared out of their wits by him and did not dare attack again.
Had they attacked Zhou Tianlong, his weakness would have been exposed, and they could easily have killed him. Unfortunately, they had missed a golden opportunity.
Seeing the three flee, Zhou Tianlong secretly breathed a sigh of relief while continuing to project his earlier dominance, doing his utmost to maintain his powerful aura.
Only after forcing himself to remain standing outside the formation for a quarter of an hour did he hurry back inside the Defensive Formation.
"Senior Brother, how badly are you hurt?"
"Senior Brother, are you all right?"
"Senior Brother, are your injuries serious? I have a Healing Pill here."
As soon as Zhou Tianlong entered the Defensive Formation, several junior sisters gathered around him and asked after him with concern.
During the battle, they had been afraid of distracting him, so they had merely attacked the enemy with their flying swords with all their strength, not daring to make a sound.
Now the enemies were either dead or had fled, and Zhou Tianlong truly looked wretched.
The many injuries covering his body looked frightening. His wounds were long and wide, the flesh curled outward on both sides to expose the bright red meat beneath.
His face was as white as paper, and he could barely stand. His miserable condition left his junior sisters terribly worried.
"I'm fine. Just some flesh wounds. I'll be all right after a little rest."
Zhou