After listening, Li Jingsheng finally understood that Master Liu liked to mix in some dialect that was hard to understand when he spoke.
It could be considered plastic Mandarin.
It seems this young man wasn't kidney-cut.
"Why do we need to carry him? Can't he walk on his own?"
Li Jingsheng had already squatted down immediately to start examining the injuries of the young man on the makeshift stretcher.
There was a bloodstain about fourteen or fifteen centimeters long on the right side of the waist, still bleeding.
The amount of bleeding didn't look particularly serious.
The wound seemed shallower than expected.
Just more scratches on the surface.
"We heard that injuries to the stomach and waist should best not be moved, afraid something might go wrong, so we put together a makeshift stretcher to bring him over."
His colleague, Master Shun, eagerly answered.
Master Shun seemed to have quite a high status in their small team.
His thinking was also nimbler than Master Liu.
