It was that familiar darkness again.
In the midst of the hazy confusion, another scene began to emerge from the blur and gradually became clear.
...
"Mentor! Mentor! I have independently finished crafting a bottle of Composite Recovery Potion!"
A crisp, melodious female voice broke the darkness.
In a small room, an old man was staring at a dying male slave lying on a hospital bed, holding a notebook in one hand and a quill in the other, recording something.
Upon hearing the girl's shout, the old man put down his writing tools and turned to look at a girl with long hair that shone like brilliant golden streams of light. The girl was waving a piece of yellowed paper with one hand, while her other hand held a snake-neck bottle containing a pale blue liquid.
The blonde girl was wearing a tight-fitting outfit, with a brown vest clinging to her body's curves, outlining an alluring silhouette. A pair of silver gloves inlaid with pearls adorned her slender hands, making her palms look even more elegant.
Although her features remained unclear, as if a thin layer of mist always obscured her appearance, it did not detract from her exquisite bodily curves. Wrapping her long, jade-like legs was a pair of handmade black trousers. Clearly, the tailor's craftsmanship was quite superb; there was not a single seam, and it looked perfectly fitted to the girl's body.
The blonde girl looked at the old man full of anticipation. The old man nodded expressionlessly, took the snake-neck bottle from her hands, and said in a deep voice, "Whether it is a success depends on how it works."
As he spoke, he turned, pried open the mouth of the dying male slave on the bed, pulled out the stopper, and slowly poured the pale blue medicinal liquid into it.
"Cough!"
The moment he swallowed the potion, the male slave couldn't help but cough, instantly spitting out a mouthful of blood.
Seeing this, the blonde girl was somewhat surprised and asked quite nervously, "What's going on? Why is he still spitting blood? Did... did I fail in my research?"
"No! You succeeded, Miss Stellatu." A smile appeared on the old man's face. He took a step back and said in a deep voice, "Look!"
As he spoke, he extended his withered palm and pointed to the male slave's chest. A cracked wound that had been there suddenly became moist, and then bright red blood gushed out like a fountain, flowing rapidly along the wound.
The blonde girl, addressed as Stellatu, frowned at first, but then her face revealed undisguisable joy, and she shouted excitedly, "His... his injuries are recovering!"
"That's right. His body is continuously producing fresh blood," the old man confirmed. "Therefore, you have indeed successfully crafted a bottle of Composite Recovery Potion. Congratulations!"
As they watched, the palm-sized wound was healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. The flowing blood became less and less, and soon the bleeding stopped completely.
At the same time, both of them clearly felt that the male slave's faint, erratic breath began to become strong; they could even hear the person's powerful breathing.
"That's amazing! The potion I created will definitely be of great help to General Aatrox!"
Stellatu let out a long sigh of relief, first bowed to the old man, and then celebrated excitedly.
Crack!
After the shattering sound rang out, the entire scene was like a glass mirror struck by a stone, covered in cracks like a spiderweb.
...
The sounds of medical instruments clashing rang out continuously. Durin could vaguely perceive the suturing needle drilling in and out of his flesh, pulling at his muscle. His heartbeat, which had been frantic when he first regained consciousness, gradually became stable and regular. Durin's brain was turning, and his emotions were tending toward calm amidst his thoughts.
I don't know how long it had been, but Durin suddenly felt that he could control his eyelids; the effect of the anesthetic was fading.
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