For ordinary people, injuries that are nearly irreparable to them are barely troublesome for Chu Zheng.
He measured his response with precision, and being a martial cultivator with vigorous blood and Qi, getting stabbed by a spear wouldn't threaten his life.
Chu Zheng lifted Song Lingxue in his arms, and under the healing panel, the chilling wound quickly healed.
A few breaths later, Song Lingxue slowly opened her eyes, subconsciously touching her lower abdomen, finding the wound had already healed, though the intense pain seemed to still linger in her perception.
"It's alright now."
After saying this with a somewhat hoarse voice, Chu Zheng found himself at a loss for words.
"I understand, there's no need to explain," Song Lingxue said, slightly shaking her head with a trace of worry in her expression,
"Now that someone has died in the Holy Land, they will certainly not let this go."
