Zhao Angu and his colleagues brought two cases of silver needles to Shen Feng's side.
Shen Feng looked at the dozen or so injured people around him and asked, "Who among you is willing to receive my treatment?"
The injured looked at each other, hesitant. Their injuries were not life-threatening, and facing such a young doctor as Shen Feng, they inevitably harbored doubts.
The plump man who had just made his disapproval obvious was particularly infuriated by this young doctor's audacity, paying him no mind, his chubby cheeks angrily quivering. He was a leader of sorts in his own right and couldn't help but let out a snort, "Kid, stop causing trouble here. Look at yourself! Who would dare entrust their life to a doctor who hasn't even grown a full beard?"
Among the injured, there was a little girl about ten years old with a severe fracture in her right arm and a bloody wound on her face. Still, these injuries were not life-threatening.
