Qi Guze did not give chase. He had a minor injury to his chest, but it was enough to make him temporarily stop his pursuit.
He stood there, his gaze fixed intently on the direction in which the soldiers of the Dark Moon Kingdom had retreated, as if deep in thought.
"retreat--!"
Shortly afterward, Qi Guze also ordered the allied forces of the three countries to withdraw to their camp.
The soldiers sprang into action and returned to camp in an orderly fashion. Upon Qi Guze's return, someone immediately summoned the Ghost Doctor for him.
The Ghost Doctor carefully examined Qi Guze's wound, then took out a bottle of medicinal powder and gently sprinkled it on the wound.
“Although the wound isn’t deep, there’s some toxin left inside. I need to use a special method to force it out.” The Ghost Doctor said, taking out a silver needle from his pocket and gently inserting it into Qi Guze’s chest.
Qi Guze felt a warm current surge from his chest, followed by a sharp pain. He frowned, enduring the pain and trying not to make a sound.
The Ghost Doctor's technique was extremely skillful, and in no time, Qi Guze felt the pain in his chest lessen considerably. He knew that this was because the Ghost Doctor had forced the power of the toxins out of his body.
"Thank you very much, Doctor Ghost," Qi Guze said gratefully.
The Ghost Doctor waved his hand gently, a farewell full of profound meaning, like a candle flame flickering in the night wind, weak yet full of comforting power.
His movements exuded composure and confidence, as if everything was under his control. He carefully put away the silver needles one by one; the needles gleamed coldly in the moonlight, like frost flowers in winter, beautiful yet sharp.
The powder was carefully collected into a delicate little bottle, which resembled a work of art, its patterns appearing faintly in the firelight, giving it a mysterious and ancient feel.
He turned to Qi Guze, a hint of concern flashing in his eyes. His voice, though low, was full of strength: "You need to rest now, don't move around anymore." These words were like a warm current, slowly flowing into Qi Guze's heart, making him feel a sense of peace he had never felt before.
Qi Guze nodded. Although his face was a little pale, his eyes shone with determination.
He understood that although his injuries weren't serious, he would need time to recover. He gently lay down, closed his eyes, and at that moment, his world seemed to quiet down, with only the soft echo of his heartbeat in his ears.
Meanwhile, the soldiers in the camp also began to get busy. They were squatting or standing, busy or talking, creating a vivid scene.
The soldiers' faces were etched with exhaustion; their skin was rough from long hours of exposure to the wind and sun, and the deep dark circles under their eyes resembled two wounds that were difficult to heal.
However, despite their bodies being nearing their limits, their eyes remained as firm as iron. It was an indomitable spirit, a belief in the future, like the distant starry sky, where light always shines no matter how dark it may be.
On this post-war land, some soldiers are clearing the battlefield. Their movements are somewhat slow, but full of determination.
Scattered weapons, tattered flags, and blood-stained ground all tell the story of the battle that had just taken place. They carefully picked up each weapon and smoothed each flag, as if paying tribute to their heroic comrades.
Their eyes were filled with grief, but even more so with determination and resolve, because they knew that although the battle was over, the road ahead was still long.
Other soldiers were repairing weapons. The firelight reflected off their faces, creating a unique interplay of light and shadow.
Their eyes were focused and resolute, and the swords in their hands gleamed coldly in the firelight.
Every strike, every tempering, speaks of the soldiers' bravery and determination.
They knew these weapons were their lifeline, their tools for protecting their homeland. Therefore, they cherished each weapon as much as they cherished their own lives.
Some soldiers were preparing dinner. Their movements were skilled and orderly, and every detail revealed their love for life and their hope for the future.
The aroma of food filled the air, giving people an indescribable sense of warmth and comfort.
The soldiers who were cooking had smiles on their faces. It was as if, at this moment, they had forgotten the cruelty of war and their physical exhaustion, and only thought about letting their comrades have a hot meal.
"Little Li, the food smells delicious today!" an old soldier exclaimed.
"Yes, Lao Zhang, I added extra chili peppers, hoping it will help everyone stay alert," Xiao Li replied with a smile.
Their conversation was simple and heartwarming, as if the bloodshed and cruelty of the battlefield had been forgotten in that moment. Their laughter echoed in the air, giving people a sense of inexplicable strength and courage.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew by, raising clouds of dust.
The soldiers frowned involuntarily, but they didn't stop what they were doing. Instead, they continued clearing the battlefield, repairing weapons, and preparing meals. They knew the war wasn't over yet, and they had to persevere.
Their fighting spirit did not falter. This war was a brutal test, and only by being in top condition could they usher in the dawn of victory. Their figures appeared exceptionally tall in the firelight, and their voices echoed in the night sky, full of strength and conviction.
The night was as dark as ink, the Milky Way cascaded down, and countless stars twinkled with a cold and distant light.
The Ghost Doctor, a mysterious and solemn name, moved through the camp like his figure. A faint smile always graced his face, and his eyes revealed determination and depth, as if concealing endless wisdom and secrets.
His steps were light yet powerful, like a dancer gracefully moving in the quiet night.
Whenever he came into the soldiers' sight, their eyes would unconsciously follow him, as if they saw an invisible power and hope in him.
"The Ghost Doctor is here! Everyone come quick!" a soldier shouted excitedly.
The soldiers gathered around, some leaning on crutches, others helping their wounded comrades, their faces filled with expectation and trust.
The Ghost Doctor smiled and nodded. He gently reached out his hand, his fingers dancing like harp strings, and lightly touched the soldiers' wounds.
His fingers possessed a magical power, as if they could dispel all pain and suffering.
"Don't be afraid, I'm here." His voice was deep and powerful, like a mysterious incantation echoing in the night sky.
The soldiers felt his warmth and care, their eyes shining with gratitude and respect. On this dangerous and arduous battlefield, the Ghost Doctor was like their guardian angel, giving them strength and courage.
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