"Once healed, I will give you company," Jih Heng said.
Zhao Ke said, "My lord, this man's legs are probably ruined."
As martial artists, Zhao Ke could tell at first glance that the man's legs had likely been broken by someone long ago. Too much time had elapsed; they were beyond repair. Even if he was rescued, he probably couldn't serve as a guard at the Duke Residence anymore.
"No matter," Jih Heng said, "as long as he is useful."
The man covered in blood immediately showed a grateful expression. At the moment, the only way to distinguish his feelings was through his eyes. Fortunately, his eyes were inherently expressive. As Zhao Ke watched, he suddenly felt that the man's gaze was somewhat familiar, slightly resembling Jiang Family's Second Miss. Gentle and composed, in the dim and filthy private prison, it was like the sun illuminating this hellish place.
