Taoist Master Qingfeng frowned and said to Zhou Ming: Tomorrow, the iron sand in the wound must be taken out, otherwise it will grow into the flesh and will never be taken out. If you don’t get rid of your legs, you will be useless.

Master, please help your disciple take it out, Zhou Ming smiled and said.

Well, you have to endure the pain and don’t move around. As he said that, Master Qingfeng glanced around, picked up a wooden stick from the ground, handed it to Zhou Ming, and said in a deep voice: Bite with his teeth, don’t bite your tongue, it will hurt a lot later.

Zhou Ming had no choice but to open his mouth and bit the wooden stick tightly. But when Master Qingfeng raised his hands, the iron chains on his hands rustled. He fumbled for a while and found a small dagger. He weighed it in his hand for a few seconds before saying: The fire slicing is also wet, and you can't roast the knife, just put it aside. If it hurts, bite the wooden stick hard.

Zhou Ming nodded, unable to help but feel a little nervous, but he still squeezed out an ugly smile and said vaguely, Master, let's start, your disciple can resist it.

Master Qingfeng stopped answering, and took a dagger and gestured on Zhou Ming's wound a few times. Then, a long hole was blooming on his leg, and the blood flowed out instantly. Zhou Ming suddenly gasped in pain, his muscles were tense tightly, and cold sweat slid down. Although it was very painful, Zhou Ming still bit the wooden stick and tried not to move.

Master Qingfeng looked up at Zhou Ming with concern, then lowered his head and used the dagger in his hand to constantly sow the iron sand inlaid in Zhou Ming's wound. Each iron sand was fiddled out of the wound. Zhou Ming's heart thrust hard. The pain was so painful that ordinary people could not understand. He even cursed the eighteen generations of Governor Zhang's ancestors. He and his master kindly persuaded him. Not only did he not listen, he also wanted to kill himself with a musket. As a result, he suffered this kind of pain. It was so hateful.

While cursing the governor Zhang, Zhou Ming bit the wooden stick tightly, and it seemed that it really worked. The biting pain had indeed subsided a lot.

After working hard for most of the day, Taoist Qingfeng finally cleaned up all the iron sand on Zhou Ming's legs, found out the golden sore medicine and sprinkled it on the wound. Then he tore open the Taoist robe that had already been dried and bandaged Zhou Ming's wound.

Well, finally, the iron sand was moved out. Master Qingfeng wiped the sweat from his head and said with relief.

Zhou Ming's body instantly collapsed, and the wooden stick in his mouth had been bitten off by him. He opened his mouth and gasped. After a while, he said: Master really hurts so much, as if he had died.

Master Qingfeng helped Zhou Ming up, patted his shoulders as comfortingly, and said softly: It hurts for a while but keeps your legs. It's still very cost-effective.
Chapter completed!