Yang Fan stared at the dwarf's severed head for a good half an hour before Wang Daqiang finally rushed over.
"Fanzi, what's going on with you?"
Wang Daqiang exclaimed, hurriedly helping Yang Fan up from the ground.
"It's nothing, it's nothing." Yang Fan waved his hand, "It's just that my limbs are a bit done in. Let me lie here for a bit more. Is your backpack here? Give me Ying's saliva."
Though it had been almost half an hour, the pain inside Yang Fan's body remained.
But at this moment, it wasn't the pain caused by the rot, but the struggle between the Inner Strength and the lightning power on the wooden mace inside him.
These two stubborn things seemed like they wouldn't give in to each other, and there was no way they could coexist peacefully; they just had to outdo one another.
The kind of pain it caused Yang Fan really made him question his life.
Compared to the pain of corroded wounds, this was far worse.
