It took another one, perhaps two hours, for Bai Zihan to further stabilize Jin Yuelin.
Three more Grade-4 Yang herbs were taken out, each radiating warm vitality.
He placed them one after another into her hands.
"Take them!"
She did not argue. Her frail body, almost instinctively, drew in the overflowing Yang energy, bit by bit knitting together the fragile thread of her existence.
By the time she had absorbed the third herb, Jin Yuelin's complexion had transformed.
Though she still bore the sickly pallor of long suffering, her cheeks carried a faint hint of color.
Her breathing no longer rasped with death's shadow, and—though wobbly—she could stand.
When she took her first hesitant step, Jin Yuanzhan nearly cried aloud, rushing to steady her arm.
"You're walking…"
His voice trembled, half disbelieving, half relieved.
"Yes…"
Yuelin whispered, her lips curving into a fragile smile. Even that simple act made his heart ache with joy.
***
