The Baji Boxing School.
A scene of devastation.
"Brother!"
Seeing Lian Youming arrive, Yang Shuang let out a breath of relief, but his expression was grim.
The two went into the bedroom. A man lay on the bed, his face bloodless and his eyes tightly shut. Bandages covered parts of his body, and a heavy medicinal smell hung around him.
An elder from the Taiji Gate stood beside him.
"Where's A Xing?" Lian Youming asked quietly, looking at the unconscious Wu Jiu.
Yang Shuang said gravely, "She's hurt, but thankfully the baby wasn't harmed. Luckily, I arrived at just the right moment. A moment later, and there's no telling what would have happened. That Situ Changhen was out to kill."
Lian Youming walked to the bedside and took his pulse, both frowning and inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.
He frowned because the injuries were severe.
He felt relieved because Wu Jiu's life was not in danger.
"Throwing techniques?"
Several bones in his right arm and along the right side of his ribs and waist were broken, and his internal organs had been displaced and injured to some degree.
"Was this aimed at me?" Lian Youming murmured. He turned and headed outside. "Shuang'er, look after them for me."
Yang Shuang hastily said, "He was after the Dragon Roaring Iron Shirt."
Quite a few injured Baji disciples were still sitting in the Boxing School's training yard, being tended to by another elderly man from the Taiji Gate.
Seeing that the old man had his hands full, Lian Youming stepped forward to help.
Most had injuries to their tendons and dislocated bones-not fatal, but enough to instantly rob them of their ability to fight.
Just then, Zhang Asi hurried in from outside. He had been thriving since he started working under Yang