Inside a special-care ward at the Federation General Hospital, pale white medical lights shone softly.
Ya Li stood between two hospital beds, her dark green hair falling over her shoulders. Dressed in a plain long dress, she wore a solemn, composed expression.
Her Wishing Angel Martial Soul unfurled behind her, eight pairs of translucent wings of light trembling slowly. Warm, holy golden motes flowed ceaselessly from her palms like a tide, enveloping the two gravely injured Tang Sect researchers on the beds.
Tiny motes slipped through the patients' skin, soothed their damaged meridians, and repaired the tears throughout their internal organs. The faint lingering notes of a hymn echoed softly through the ward.
The married couple's deathly gray faces gradually shed their pallor and regained a faint flush. Their tightly knitted brows slowly relaxed, and their breathing, once so weak it was barely perceptible, gradually became steady and deep.
Fine beads of sweat quietly seeped out along Ya Li's temples. Even the continent's foremost healing-type Limit Douluo had to pay a considerable price for treatment that depleted her own vital essence.
Aside from their fatal blast injuries, the greater problem was the long-term corrosion inside their bodies. It was hard to imagine what they had been researching to become contaminated like this.
A girl of sixteen or seventeen stood in a corner of the ward. It was Ling Zichen.
She wore a simple pale blue hospital gown, its belt cinching a waist slender enough to span with a hand. Below it, her hips flared outward, her body filling the fabric with full, rounded curves. Though still a young girl, her figure was strikingly developed.
At a glance, she looked well suited to childbearing-at least three children to start with.
Her long black hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and