The deeper Zhao Changhe dove, the more the water pressure assailed him, and his injuries began to ache anew.
A night's recovery was still not enough.
But Zhao Changhe did not give up, continuing to clench his teeth and dive deeper, as long as his inner circulation could hold up, he'd explore as far as possible.
He was full of confidence when speaking with Yue Hongling, as if he had everything under control—that was just to bolster morale, for her and for himself. At times like these, a man must shoulder the burden, but in truth, he was not as confident inside as he appeared.
The medicine vial from yesterday's bundle had roughly two or three pills left for internal injuries, enough for one more day's consumption, and then he'd run out tomorrow.
The situation with the ointment for external injuries was even worse; it was impossible to scoop any out, only a little could be scraped together.
