As much as Muchen desperately wanted to leave the mall, reality shackled him in place. Two of their men were down—one from injury, the other from sheer exhaustion.
Shao sat against the cold tiled wall, his face pale and clammy. Despite the unnatural angle of his leg, he didn't let out even the softest groan. But his clenched jaw, sweat-soaked hair, and trembling fingers betrayed his pain. Qiu Yue hovered beside him, glasses slipping down his nose as he carefully pressed around the swelling.
"You fractured your tibia," he murmured, trying to keep his voice level, "possibly the fibula too. You're lucky the bone didn't break through the skin."
"I can still Walk," Shao rasped, though his voice shook with strain.
"No, you can't," Qiu Yue snapped. "You're not moving an inch until we find something to splint this. If you keep pressing on it, it'll get worse."
Gritting his teeth Qui yue glanced at Muchen who was sitting dejectedly in a corner.
