"Shaman Ji Nuan, could you please help take a look at the tribespeople in our tribe who have bone injuries? See if they're treatable... I don't know how to treat bone injuries, so… sigh…"
The old shaman turned his head to look at the tribespeople behind him, guilt written all over his aged face.
"Old Shaman, don't feel bad. Not every shaman can treat bone injuries like Shaman Ji Nuan can."
An orc with a broken leg tried to console him.
But those words, instead of comforting, hit the old shaman right in the heart.
He turned around indignantly to glare at the orc who had just spoken. Was this guy intentionally rubbing salt in his wound?
Seeing the old shaman turn to look at him, the orc awkwardly scratched his head and gave a goofy, sheepish grin.
The old shaman felt an instant pang of frustration. He didn't even need to say a word—his mood spoke volumes.
