"Alright."
Amidst the mass of flesh and blood, the legs that were ripped apart had neither skin nor a shape that could avoid being grotesque.
However, as the Witch scrutinized the gradually independent Seventh Apostle, she did not hide her gratification despite her regret.
"Recovery is faster than expected. You must understand that you were in terrible condition then, and I only managed to gather most of the fragments."
"Just skill, really, plenty of experience."
Fu Qian casually remarked with modesty in response, cautiously adjusting his center of gravity and balance, not even wasting resources in a rush to regenerate the skin on his legs.
Along the way, although there wasn't much difference in appearance, the chaotic state of his body finally showed slight improvement.
Simple shapeshifting flesh meant nothing to Fu Qian.
The price of recklessly overusing the drunken stupor mode, coupled with previous damages, was the collapse of his essential self.
