The next day, morning.
Thud!
With a muffled sound, an iron-made axe was swung forcefully into a tree trunk, the sharp blade embedding deeply. Then the hands on the axe handle shook vigorously, shedding some wood chips before the axe was pulled out again.
The one using the axe was a Dwarf, a former member of Sanda Mercenary Group.
He was still wrapped in bandages, from which fresh blood seeped onto the white bandages because of the force used in chopping the wood.
Zhenjin approached, his gaze on the Dwarf's wounds, and asked with a smile, "Are the potions effective?"
"Ah, Lord Zhenjin," the Dwarf hastily set down the axe and bowed to Zhenjin, then gratefully replied, "The potions are very effective; my wound is healing quickly. Thank you for your noble gesture."
"Mm, then carry on with your work," Zhenjin patted the Dwarf's shoulder and moved on.
However, even this simple greeting and pat on the shoulder made the Dwarf's face beam with joy.
