Half a day passed before An Zhisu slowly regained consciousness.
Ling Yunpo carefully helped his senior sister to sit up.
Her back wound had been cleaned by Ling Yunpo, who ensured that there was no special energy leftover, then properly applied medicine and wrapped it up.
But perhaps due to the damage to her life-bound sword artifact, at this moment, An Zhisu still seemed frail and listless, which was a stark contrast to her usual gentle beauty that carried a brisk vitality.
It was as if Xishi was holding her heart; although weak and powerless, her charm was even greater than before.
Ling Yunpo, sitting beside the sickbed, talked to his senior sister with patience, shedding tears of self-blame, which startled Senior Sister An enough to hastily comfort him, telling him not to take it to heart.