The hum of the bronze bell pierced through the stone walls of Xia Lvcheng as Old Laver was changing the bandage on his thigh.
The bandage had been boiled in hot water, and an alchemical potion made of rancid garlic was poured over it.
This alchemical potion, a refined product of allicin, had a better anti-inflammatory effect than regular allicin.
In Horn's view, it still couldn't compare to penicillin, but to Old Laver, it was a divine medicine.
After all, it was comforting to know that the Saint's Grandson cared about ordinary soldiers like them.
Since these alchemical potions had been delivered from the rear, there had been significantly fewer soldiers losing limbs.
Having changed the bandage, he looked up in the direction of the bell tower.
The sunset light fractured into gilded flakes at the crenellations, as if someone had scattered a handful of gold coins.
Behind the stone walls came countless noisy sounds, along with the soldiers' shouts of loyalty.
