DRIP—PLOP—
Crimson droplets of blood trickled down from the horrifying gash on the young woman's abdomen.
The wound was so shocking that even a Nascent Soul Cultivator like Qing Yueqiu, who had already lost a significant amount of blood, had lips turning pale.
After all, in a morally gray place teeming with all sorts of people like Xuanyuan Dark City, Qing Yueqiu didn't dare show any sign of injury, let alone find a quiet place to recuperate.
Rather than tending to her wounds in that strange and dangerous city, she'd preferred to grit her teeth and endure the pain until she returned to the Cold Palace Sword Mansion.
Only when she was back home with her master could she feel completely at ease, safe enough to reveal her vulnerable side.
Gritting her teeth, Qing Yueqiu applied the cold Healing Ointment to the wound before wrapping a bandage several times around her waist.
