In various cities, pale-faced male martial artists occasionally appear near pharmaceutical stores, buying pain relief elixirs in unison.
Whenever this happens, the seller's gaze always reveals a hint of amazement, unable to help but tighten their legs.
If you can sell medicine in this place, you're likely involved in the pharmaceutical industry, and basically adept at observing, smelling, inquiring, and diagnosing.
Judging the symptoms of the visitors comes naturally.
Moreover, no matter how well one hides, certain small details can still expose the real reason.
Small shuffle steps, unable to stop clenching their legs, weakened beneath their feet, a somber expression, accompanied by symptoms of excessive bleeding, and still a male martial artist.
Without much thought, one can vaguely guess the reason.
He must be a cultivator of the Sunflower Manual, the epitome of becoming a real-life chicken-less person.
