"Sir, the doctor has brought it here. Do you need to send it in?"
Wan Zhuliu withdrew his gaze, opened the door, and glanced at the corridor.
The men from the Black Wind Hall were standing outside with a white-haired old man.
The old man was holding a wooden box in his hand, his legs trembling.
"No, please don't kill me! I'm only ninety years old, and the fortune teller said I have the auspicious sign of living to a hundred. Your Majesty, please be kind..."
Hearing the other party's nonsense, Wan Zhuliu was speechless.
Do you think you are the king of some mountain?
"The old man has misunderstood. It's the people below who are ignorant. I asked you to come here to help save someone. Come in and take a look!"
"Oh, oh, okay, okay!"
The old man breathed a sigh of relief, took a few steps forward and looked at the bed.
At this time, Feiying was lying across the bed, his whole body twitching irregularly.
The old man didn't say anything and immediately stepped forward to take the patient's pulse.
A moment later.
"My lord, if you can't save me, are you going to kill my whole family?!" The old man looked melancholy.
“…” Wan Zhuliu was speechless.
This old doctor must have been caught so many times that he can answer questions himself.
"Ahem, old man, do your best!"
"Phew! I was so scared! I thought the old man only had ninety to live!"
The old man patted his chest, took a long breath, and then slowly said, "This guy's pulse is not much better than that of a dead person. I don't think his chances of survival are great!"
Wan Zhuliu raised his eyebrows, feeling that this old man was a little unreliable.
"Don't joke, old man! If my brother can't be saved, the chances of you living past ninety aren't very high!"
“…”
When the old man heard this, the smile on his face suddenly disappeared completely.
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