Sitting on a stool by the bed, Yan Bingyang reached out to check Ji Hui's pulse. After a minute, he withdrew his hand. "I'm going to clean his wounds. Prepare candles and clean cloth."
One of the elite soldiers left the room and soon returned with a candle and a clean cloth. He lit the candle and placed the items on the bedside table.
Yan Bingyang then took out a scalpel from his medicine box. After disinfecting it with alcohol, he looked at the adjutant and asked, "What are you doing? Still not undressing him?"
Snapping out of his daze, the adjutant carefully took off Ji Hui's clothes and let him lie on his stomach.
Looking at the swollen wounds filled with pus and gore on Ji Hui's back, Yan Bingyang clicked his tongue. "His life is really tough. He's still alive with this kind of infection."
The adjutant's anger surged again. "You—!"
Before he could curse, Yan Bingyang said calmly, "Say one more word, and I will leave this place."
