In the span of a quarter hour, An Jing had come across Nian Quan.
Under the dim light in front of the Spirit Vein seclusion room, the youth who had already started his Qi Refinement was cloaked in mysterious-colored clothing, edged with golden red cloud patterns.
A sword hung at his waist, but his right hand, which was originally used to wield the sword, was wrapped in layers of bandages inscribed with talisman, his pale and delicate arm spreading out root-like tendrils of black and blue Evil Qi, turning the soft skin into stiff, dead tree bark.
Nian Quan's complexion looked rather bad, his lips pallid as he saw An Jing and Huo Qing. He forced a smile, trying to greet them, "It's been a long..."
"Is your hand injured?"
An Jing had no intention of making small talk. He spotted the talisman-wrapped right hand of Nian Quan at a glance and bluntly asked, "What happened? Is it a remnant of the arena battle? Couldn't the physicians in the Special City heal it?"
