Who would have thought that within just a dozen breaths, the blisters on the man's hand began to subside; another quarter of an hour later, all the blisters on his entire arm had disappeared without a trace, leaving only the redness from his own scratches. He took a long breath of relief, just as he was about to hurl some curses to vent his frustration, his companion quickly covered his mouth:
"Think you can easily survive red scorpion poison? They obviously spared you this time, don't bite the hand that feeds you! If you annoy that young lady again, she could turn your bones to ash!"
At this moment, from a distance, "What poison did you put in his arm?" the whistle asked. A cunning master often has a disciple who is not far behind.
