"Amitabha. This humble monk, Kongming of Shaolin, thanks you on behalf of our fellow martial artists of Great Song, madam! May I ask your honored name?" Once the other party had left, Master Kongming finally breathed a sigh of relief and hurried to offer his thanks.
There had originally been more than three hundred of these Jianghu martial artists, but now only seventy or eighty remained, every one of them wounded-a truly wretched sight. They had thought their entire party would be wiped out. They had never expected to receive this senior's help and escape their predicament. Those who remained were filled with complicated feelings: some rejoiced at having survived, while others grieved for their fallen fellow disciples.
"No need!" the woman beside Zhao Xin'er said indifferently, before turning her gaze toward Huang Xiao, who stood to one side.
Huang Xiao immediately felt how piercing that gaze was, like a sharp sword thrusting straight into his heart. It seemed able to see through every thought within him, leaving him nowhere to hide.
"Utterly useless!" The woman's cold snort suddenly rang out in Huang Xiao's mind. His body and awareness grew somewhat dazed, his expression naturally turned exceedingly ugly, and he swayed several times.
"Boy Huang, what's wrong? Were your injuries just now too severe?" Seeing that something seemed wrong with Huang Xiao, Lu Ting hurriedly asked.
"N-no, I'm fine!" Huang Xiao hastily replied.
"You were badly wounded this time. You'd best hurry and tend to your injuries!" Lu Ting suspected nothing and continued speaking with concern.
Huang Xiao nodded and said nothing more.
After seeing the change in Huang Xiao's expression, Zhao Xin'er frowned, her face shifting slightly. Then she said, "Mother, it'll still take us quite a few days to reach the capital. Shouldn't we hurry on our way?"