Beads of scalding sweat were streaming down his cheeks. Ling Zhang was sweating buckets from somewhat hot medicated bathwater and scorching steam. Though this was the second time that he had taken a medicated bath, he still found the numbness, itch and pain exceptionally unbearable, as if numerous ants were gnawing at his heart. He clenched his fists. His fingertips had deeply sunk into his palm. Fortunately he had no sharp nails. Otherwise his palms would have been mangled and bloody by now.

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This was such a miserable experience.

Ling Zhang gritted his teeth to prevent any groan from escaping his lips, as if that would be a signal that would throw him into a breakdown.

Yuwen Tong, whose palms were pressed against Ling Zhang's back, was continuously injecting warm energy into his body, expanding his meridians bit by bit. He was also sweating profusely. Welcome to Flying Lines to read the whole novel!