The cut on Xie Jue's waist and abdomen was particularly deep. He had always been good at enduring pain, never speaking of such an injury to outsiders. If it weren't for Ying Yi's discovery, he would have probably continued to force himself to endure. Actually, for him, at Chaoyang Palace, he really couldn't feel the pain. The insignia in his hand felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, his eyes were fixed on the charred corpses scattered all over the ground, and his mind was filled only with the image and voice of Fang Chuning, unable to feel even a hint of pain. After the military doctor gave him a bowl of medicinal soup to numb his sense of pain, they sutured the wound. The excessive loss of blood made Xie Jue's body somewhat cold.
Ying Yi stood guard beside him, reporting the situation in the temple, including Han Ziqi's cries of injustice. Deep down, Xie Jue actually understood who the mastermind was. Whether Han Ziqi was aware or unaware was actually not important.
