Qin Shi took the old man who was twitching and shaking like a leaf to the clinic. Upholding the principle of doing good deeds without leaving his name, he walked away with a proud stride.
He jogged back to the dormitory building of No. 9 Middle School, pushed the door open, and saw that Old Liang was already drinking with Teacher Ren.
The two were happily chatting about the various amusing stories of Old Martial Sect martial artists, the atmosphere full of joy.
"Master Liang, your cigarette."
Qin Shi couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.
With the reputation of the Nanhuang Daoist School, if things really went sour, he'd be in a tough spot.
He wondered if one hundred and fifty million would be enough to bail Old Liang out.
"Just put it here."
Old Liang tapped the small table, signaling his disciple to sit down.
