The doctor with gold-rimmed glasses looked Qi Ji up and down, then said in a deep voice: "The neurology department is on the third floor, go take a look."
Saying that, he took off his mask, turned around, and left without looking back, muttering to himself.
"These religious people, always so mysterious."
"Xiao Ji, are you alright?"
Zhang Fan looked at Qi Ji and asked with concern.
For this newcomer fresh out of training, tonight's incident was indeed somewhat difficult to accept; his junior sister died, his senior brother got injured, and he witnessed everything yet was powerless to act.
He truly recognized the cruelty of this world and the mercilessness of life and death.
Even cultivators have their moments of helplessness, of being overpowered, and of being constrained.
"I... I'm fine," Qi Ji shook his head and said.
"If you're fine, then go home and rest early, we're here." Zhang Fan patted Qi Ji on the shoulder and then turned to leave with Qi Ji.
