However, looking at his current predicament as a prisoner, he suddenly felt that being ridiculed was normal.
He let out a bitter laugh, "Seventh Master Jian, I know we are currently on opposing sides, but please understand, I only have one son, Zhan Hao, and I'm just asking Qingyang to give him a blood transfusion. You should know that blood regenerates, and donating blood won't affect Qingyang's health. I have no ill intentions towards him."
"You're so hypocritical," Jian Shichu frowned with disgust. "A limited amount of blood transfused indeed doesn't harm the body, but the doctor you brought has already confessed. Zhan Hao's surgery requires at least 2000 milliliters of blood. Are you telling me Qingyang can donate 2000 milliliters and still live?"
Zhan Xiong's bitter smile froze again.
He didn't expect the doctor he brought to confess so quickly.
Originally, they had rehearsed their story, claiming outside that only 500 milliliters were needed.
