He carefully pried open Liu Maolin’s chapped lips and slipped the Rejuvenation Pill inside.
With that done, Yang Jing leaned down to carefully examine Liu Maolin’s injuries.
As his fingers touched Liu Maolin’s arm, he felt the bone beneath was misshapen and uneven. The slightest touch made Liu Maolin’s body tremble uncontrollably.
Yang Jing’s expression instantly turned hideous. A terrifying killing intent roiled in his eyes, and the very air around him seed to drop a few degrees.
He ran his hand down the arm and then checked the legs. With every touch, he could feel the grating of shattered bone.
All four of Liu Maolin’s limbs had been broken!
No wonder he had been lying on the ground in such a stiff, unnatural position.
For a Martial Artist, having all four limbs broken was a crippling blow.
Even if by so miracle the bones could be set, his ridians would be damaged and his flow of Inner Strength cut off. His path on the Martial Dao would be finished. He might never even regain the full mobility of an ordinary person.
"These bastards!" Yang Jing growled through gritted teeth, his voice laced with irrepressible fury.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
’This isn’t the ti for anger. Saving him is the priority.’
He carefully adjusted Liu Maolin’s body into a straight position, then bent down and steadily hoisted him onto his back.
Just as Yang Jing lifted him, Liu Maolin stirred.
The effects of the Rejuvenation Pill were kicking in. A gentle warmth spread through his body, easing the excruciating pain.
His tightly shut eyes struggled to open a sliver. The whites were shot through with angry red veins, and his vision was a blur. He could only vaguely make out the familiar silhouette of the person carrying him.
’Is that... Junior Brother?’
Liu Maolin’s mind was still in a fog. He wondered if he was already dead, if this was just a final hallucination before the end.
’Li Qianxiong, the leader of the Flying Horse Thieves, had personally broken all four of my limbs. He said he’d make my life a living hell, worse than death. I was already prepared to die, so how can this be...?’
He parted his lips, a dry rasp escaping his throat. With trendous effort, he squeezed out two words, his voice as faint as a buzzing mosquito: "Jun...ior... Bro...ther..."
His voice was so hoarse and shattered that he could barely hear it himself.
Hearing those two words, Yang Jing shuddered. The emotions he had suppressed for so long burst through his defenses, and his eyes instantly reddened.
He shifted his grip to better support Liu Maolin. His voice held a subtle hoarseness as he said deeply, "Senior Brother, it’s . Don’t be afraid. I’m getting you out of here. We’re going ho!"
He took a deep breath, wiped the moisture from the corners of his eyes, and his gaze turned sharp as a blade once more.
Just as Yang Jing prepared to leave, the wooden door of the hut was thrown open with a BANG.
The man at the door was the sa goateed bandit from before. He had heard the noise inside and burst in warily. But when he saw the scene within the hut, he froze.
Two of his brothers lay dead on the floor, their chests caved in—a grueso sight. anwhile, the man who had called himself "the newcor" was carrying the hostage he was supposed to be guarding, staring at him with ice-cold eyes.
The goateed bandit’s eyes widened as he finally realized sothing was wrong. "You’re not—"
The instant the words left his mouth, Yang Jing moved.
He stomped his left foot, his body shooting forward like an arrow released from a bow. His right leg whistled through the air as he brutally kicked the goateed bandit in the chest!
"CRACK!"
A sharp crack echoed, followed by the goateed bandit’s short, agonized cry. He was sent flying backward like a kite with a snapped string, blood erupting from his mouth. He crashed heavily onto the open ground outside the hut, twitched a few tis, and then fell still.
These ordinary thieves, who had yet to cultivate any Inner Strength, were like clay figures in Yang Jing’s hands.
After dispatching the man, Yang Jing didn’t hesitate for a mont.
He bent down and quickly took the belts from the two dead guards. He fastened one tightly around his own waist. The other he looped under Liu Maolin’s armpits, tying it securely to his own belt to hold Liu Maolin’s body firmly against his back.
With that done, he took a deep breath and strode out of the hut, Liu Maolin on his back.
However, the sounds of the struggle and the screams had inevitably alerted the other bandits.
"Intruder!"
"Murder!"
"Over here!"
The shouts rose one after another.
The bandits sward over. When they saw the bodies in front of the hut and Yang Jing carrying a man on his back, about to leave, the whole camp erupted into chaos.
"Shit, soone’s trying to rescue the Young Hall Master from the Liu Family dical Hall!"
"You’re courting death!"
Amid the shouts, more than a dozen bandits ard with swords and axes sward in from all sides. They rapidly closed in on Yang Jing, on the verge of surrounding him completely.
Further away, Li Qianxiong and a few of his chieftains, who were in the middle of counting the silver, noticed the disturbance.
Li Qianxiong’s face darkened. He shot to his feet, his gaze flashing toward the commotion like lightning. "Who dares run wild on my turf?" he roared.
Before the words had even faded, he was already hurtling toward them with his chieftains, moving like a gale. Their nacing aura made it clear he intended to handle this himself.
...
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