Everyone was stunned, and the air seemed to freeze at that moment.
Inside the clinic, it was so quiet that one could hear the sound of sycamore leaves falling outside the window. Several martial arts disciples exchanged glances, their eyes filled with incredulous light.
A-Qiang opened his mouth, his Adam's apple rolling a few times, yet no sound came out.
As martial artists, they knew all too well the cost of treating injuries—just last month, a junior brother sprained his ankle and went to Huichun Hall, where the registration fee alone was fifty yuan, not to mention the subsequent treatments.
Regaining his composure, A-Qiang took a deep breath, clasped his fists, and gave a deep bow: "Doctor Chen not only has miraculous skills but also a compassionate heart. It's truly... truly..."
This man, who on a usual day could smash three bricks with a single punch, found himself at a loss for words to express his admiration.
