The pain quickly dissipated, replaced by a bone-deep warmth.
Sakura Miori opened her eyes and saw black streams of energy twining around Beichuan Si's fingers, burrowing into her bruised and distorted calf.
Under her gaze, filled with utter astonishment, her calf slowly returned to its original shape.
Had it not been for the black sawdust still clinging to it, Sakura Miori might have thought the injury was just an illusion.
How did he do that?
What's happening?
Who have I encountered?
A god?
Gulp—
Sakura Miori swallowed hard, her delicate little face full of amazement.
"Stand up and move around," Beichuan Si withdrew his hand, his voice still flat.
"Oh... okay," Sakura Miori subconsciously obeyed Beichuan Si's command. She stood up, her snow-white and straight legs were just as before without any change. There wasn't the slightest issue as she moved; there was no pain in her calf whatsoever.
How did he accomplish this?
