The eaves are covered in snow, creating a silver-clad green tile scene.
Wei Zhao's condition isn't good, beads of sweat are forming on his forehead.
His face is as pale as paper, trembling violently as needles penetrate, big gulps of blood spill from his mouth corners.
He's in extreme pain, veins bulging under his skin. Yet, he doesn't utter a single sound.
This endurance even makes Elder Ge feel a pang of sympathy.
"General, would you like to take a break first?"
Wei Zhao opened his eyes slowly, "No need to dawdle."
He spoke slowly, "Still got a breath in me."
Elder Ge: ...
"The acupuncture varies each time, as do the points, it'll get harder and harder to endure each time after this."
He doesn't need to say it; Wei Zhao knows it too.
Wei Zhao to himself: "Your acupuncture technique could use some improvement."
Elder Ge: ...
Alright, alright, now he's blaming me.
Guess there's no need to rest!
This calamity, Wei Zhao, won't die!
