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"Dad, at a time like this, you're still thinking about my dowry?" Zhang Qianqian said, blushing, "If you die, what's the use of this dowry to me?"
"Although a century-old medicine is valuable, it only reveals its true worth when treating illnesses."
Looking toward Xu Wendong, she said, "Drink, drink all this pot of herbal soup. I'm counting on you to heal my dad's injury."
"Wendong, if you can handle the effects of three kinds of century-old medicine, then go ahead and drink it!" Zhang Zhenlin said with a bitter smile. Since the herbs were already boiled, what else could be done?
"I should be able to withstand the effects." Xu Wendong knew that the medicinal effect of century-old herbs could be astonishing. An ordinary person would likely get a nosebleed after just one sip, but he was different. As a cultivator in the Yin-Cultivating Realm, he could fully absorb the effects of century-old herbs.
