Don’t people in the world say that monks take compassion as their own hearts!

But the armless man vaguely felt something was wrong.

In this bloody place, in this bloody place, why is there such a calm and leisurely monk?

However, before he could think about the questions from the bottom of his heart, the innate desire for survival forced him to ask for help again: "Living Buddha, help..."

"Amitabha, good, good! Take this Yunnan Baiyao insurance particle to save your life first, and then I will bandage the donor's wound."

The monk's voice should be young, but his tone is calm and his speech is not too slow, which makes people feel safe.

The armless man couldn't help but open his mouth and felt a cooling pill being put into his mouth. Then his lips touched the wine jar, and a large stream of wine was poured into his mouth and swallowed it with the pill.

"Amitabha, so good! This Yunnan white medicine and wine power can ensure that the donor can live for at least one more hour."

"Thank you... Thank you little living Buddha..."

The armless man struggled to thank him, but he always felt that something was wrong in the monk's words.

Suddenly, another severe pain came from his broken arm. As far as his eyesight, he saw a young monk picking up a wine jar and pouring wine into his broken arm: "The little monk must first wash the wound with the donor's wine to prevent the wound of the donor's skin and flesh, and then bandage the donor's wound, give it an injection to prevent tetanus caused by injury to the limbs and flesh, and inject a bottle of cephalosporin. In this way, you can live at least one more hour and you can also miss this beautiful world for a while."

"After a little longer?" The armless man suddenly felt uneasy.

There is something in this.

Although the tone of the little monk was still warm, it made him feel very scared when he heard it. And what are tetanus and cephalosporins? He had never heard of the word sterilization and sterilization, and it was scary to hear it.

While the little monk was talking, he took out a small bag from his side. There were some strange objects in the bag, which had never been seen by the armless man.

The little monk quickly took out a tweezer, then clamped out a large ball of disinfectant alcohol cotton, rubbed hard on the wound of the armless man, without any concern about the armless man making hoarse screams like a pig killer.

"Amitabha, so good! The little monk is all for the donor's good. If you want to live a little longer, you have to endure the pain. Unfortunately, the little monk has no anesthetics on his side. Seeing you in such pain, the little monk couldn't bear it."

Listening to the armless man screaming like a pig slaughtering, the little monk comforted him, and then looked at Qiu Mouse who was leaning against the corner of the wall with a silly smile.

Qiu Mozi's face was still smirking. Sputum flowed from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto his chest, like a baby less than one year old, making babbling sounds that only he could understand.

Qiu Mouse's strange smile made the armless man feel panicked from the bottom of his heart. Everything that happened tonight was so strange that it made people wonder and could not explain for a while.

Seeing Qiu Mouse smiling so honestly, the little monk smiled cutely.

He smiled very satisfied.

The smile made the armless man feel unfathomable, and he felt nervous and frigid. It seemed that a question about to surface was about to be revealed.

The little monk's smile was still as warm as the warm sun in early spring. He turned to look at the armless man, changed to another alcohol cotton, and continued to gently wipe the wound of the armless man: "Amitabha, good, good! Donor, do you remember there was a girl selling a knife?"

"you......"

A gust of cold wind blew, Wubian sweated suddenly and his whole body shook, his eyes showed a look of horror, and he looked at the kind-hearted little monk in front of him.

The little monk put the blood-stained alcohol cotton on the light and lit it, and a strange smell of fishy smell suddenly filled the air.

The little monk's face was still as warm as spring, but the anger in his eyes became heavier and heavier, as cold as the severe winter, which made people shudder.

The little monk clamped out a large piece of pungent alcohol cotton and continued to carefully wipe the broken limbs of the armless man.

He was affectionate and focused, as if he was painting a painting, and the white bones that were crisscrossed by Barrett were shining with a layer of green light: "The knife-selling girl is only thirteen or fourteen years old, like a budding flower. I think in her age, your daughter is young as a donor. I can't figure out how you can't stand to reach out to her?"

"How do you... know?"

The big armless man's eyes were filled with fear and doubt. He seemed to hear the voice of the little monk different from what he had just said, and became a little familiar. Where should he have heard: "You...Who are you?"

The little monk didn't say anything, reached out to grab a sharp scalpel, and gently slashed the lower jaw of the armless man.

Through his skin, the armless man could feel the sharpness of the knife, which he had never seen before.

The little monk watched the beard of the armless man's jaw falling down, and his tone was still soft: "Some of the soft tissues on your broken arm have died. If they are left, they will only slowly rot and smell, and will eventually become nutrients for flies and maggots. Medically treating this dead soft tissue is like treating abscess. You must release all the pus and blood in the abscess, otherwise it will slowly rot you to death."

As he said that, he picked up the scalpel and cut the broken flesh of Barrett, which was smashed by Barrett with one knife.

"Where are you coming from, my friend, like a butterfly flying into my window..."

He whistled a pleasant whistle and reviewed the old songs so that he would not forget them over time. His expression seemed to be depicting a painting that was about to be completed. His technique was extremely gentle, as if he was worried that the other party would feel pain. He stopped whistle from time to time and comforted the armless man with a soft voice.

To the armless man, the little monk's words of comforting words made his scalp numb like a curse of an evil spirit. No one sings while cutting human flesh. This is not a comforting person, it is simply a death-induced spell.

The old wound has not yet gone, and the new pain has arrived again. The armless man let out a howl ten times more violently than slaughtering a pig.

But his throat was hoarse, and the screams were not loud, like a beast about to die, struggling the most meaninglessly at the last moment of his life.

"You...you are..."

The one-armed man's eyes were cracked, blood and tears flowed from the corners of his eyes, his whole body trembled constantly due to pain, and he stared at the face of the monk in fear...

Suddenly, he seemed to remember something, and a thrilling expression appeared on his face: "You...you are..."
Chapter completed!