"Holy Heart, you fiend, I swear we are irreconcilable! Ouch, gentle, gentle! Nephew Sun, your hands are too heavy!" Master Chu He now lay sprawled on the straw hut's bed planks, his face swollen and bruised, his body covered in injuries.
On his back were three deep knife wounds that had reached the bone, slicing open several ribs. At this moment, Sun Yu was tending to his wounds with movements as swift as the wind, albeit brutally so.
As Master Chu He cursed Holy Heart, he kept asking Sun Yu to be gentler, to which Sun Yu repeatedly agreed, yet he could not shake off the habits ingrained over many years at Xuanming Palace.
For instance, he pulled out a severed tendon from the Old Daoist's wound, stretched it out, and tied it into a knot with another severed end, then applied an ointment that would make the Old Daoist scream an octave higher, finally marking it with Dao Power.
