The Shaman’s face was full of fatigue and concern: "Are you alright? There were just too many injured orcs yesterday, I just finished tending to them and ca over."
The middle-aged Clan Leader forced a stiff smile: "It’s nothing now, not as serious, just applied so herbs and it’s fine."
The Shaman noticed his strange expression, thinking he might have so complaints about his delayed arrival.
Surprisingly, the Shaman humbled himself and squatted down, lifting the thin layer of beast skin from the middle-aged orc before he could react.
The middle-aged Clan Leader’s pupils contracted, his body tensed as he heard his heart pounding fiercely.
If the Shaman discovers the powder on his wound...
"Healing well, your wound is long but shouldn’t be deep, otherwise these herbs couldn’t have stopped the bleeding."
With that, he gestured for the orc behind him to hand over the crocodile beast’s skin bag, placing it beside the middle-aged Clan Leader: "There are herbs inside, after you eat, let the clan mbers change the dressing, it should be fine in a few days."
The middle-aged Clan Leader heaved a sigh of relief at these words.
He nodded respectfully: "Don’t worry, the clan mbers will take care of everything, you should go back to rest, it’s troubleso for you to treat all the orcs’ injuries."
The Shaman smiled and nodded, and the two talked about various matters until the young orc returned with food, at which point the Shaman got up and left.
Watching the Shaman’s figure getting farther, the young orc wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and quickly entered the tent: "Clan Leader, are you alright?"
The Clan Leader shook his head: "Should be nothing, luckily you were smart enough to apply a layer of dicine clay on the wound, otherwise it would’ve been really dangerous just now."
The young orc breathed a sigh of relief: "Good thing it wasn’t found out."
Then, passing the sowhat burnt roast at to the middle-aged Clan Leader: "The White Mink Orc said if injured, it’s best to eat roasted at, raw at isn’t good."
He didn’t know exactly why it wasn’t good.
The middle-aged Clan Leader, hardened by a tough life, wasn’t picky, and imdiately started gnawing on the roast at.
anwhile, the Shaman, who had already left, had a sudden change in expression as he turned away, with the orc behind him following cautiously, too scared to even breathe loudly.
Back in the tent, the Shaman sat heavily on the beast skin mat: "Go call the Clan Leader over."
The orc hastily bowed and retreated.
The Shaman Crow thought of the familiar scent he detected when he lifted the beast skin from the middle-aged Clan Leader, his eyes deep and dark.
How could he not recognize that sll, the precious scent of Divine Wood Tree branches and leaves dicine powder, a rarity in their tribe.
Except for gravely injured clan mbers who were on the brink of death, he was unwilling to use it on other orcs.
But just now...
"Shaman Sir." The Clan Leader’s voice pierced the tent, interrupting the Shaman’s thoughts.
"Co in."
Upon hearing, the Clan Leader lifted the beast skin curtain and entered, sitting on the beast skin mat beside the Shaman, looking at him in confusion.
"Shaman Sir, has sothing happened?"
The Shaman’s face was grim, obviously in a foul mood.
The Shaman nodded: "I went to see the injured middle-ranked Tribal Chief today, but his wound has already healed."
The Clan Leader frowned: "Wasn’t it said to be very severe?"
The Shaman nodded: "The injury was indeed very severe, a deep and long wound, but when I went today, the bleeding had stopped, and the middle-ranked Tribal Chief had already woken up."
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