In a certain palace of the Alien Clan in the Western Regions, Zhao Changhe was wrapped up like a mummy, lying immobile on a soft bed, even his face was tightly bandaged, leaving only his eyes darting around.
Ying Wu stood watching him with his arms crossed, silent for a long time.
He, a revenger ready to die, was not even slightly scratched, and didn't have the minor internal injuries that even a normal intense battle would cause. Apart from being quite exhausted, it was as if nothing had happened to him.
In contrast, the ally invited to help was hurt all over, almost blown up directly, along with frostbite, truly there wasn't an inch of good flesh left.
Not only that, even during the fight, this person was the main character, while Ying Wu felt like an outsider invited to assist.
At this moment, Ying Wu's heart contained little of the pleasure of revenge, and more of it was actually amusement.
