A wound on his shoulder blade, left untreated, was slowly seeping dark, purplish blood.
But he had no time to tend to it. The battle demanded his full attention.
Once, just as he had taken down a wave of enemies and was catching his breath, a crazed-looking man rushed him and self-detonated at point-blank range, injuring him with the blast.
The man's face was twisted, his eyes rolled back, and he lunged with a savage grin, flinging his arms wide just before death.
Amidst a deafening BOOM, Ling Zhiwei was thrown dozens of yards, only stopping after crashing through several stone pillars.
The qi and blood in his chest roiled. A sweet, metallic taste filled his throat, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Fortunately, his foundation was strong. Gritting his teeth, he endured the pain and immediately led his men in a counterattack, managing to turn the tide.
