"Hmph!
I wonder how Sir Zhang Kong is going to treat him?
What illness is President Morte suffering from? "
Audley flicked his sleeves and asked with a cold smile.
"President Morte isn't sick."
Zhang Xing spread out his hands and looked a little ridiculous. With a height of 1.2 meters and the appearance of a middle-aged uncle, he would be a dwarf on Earth.
Haha!
Everyone was so angry that they laughed. His words were too unreliable. Couldn't he tell that he was talking nonsense?
"Then I would like to ask. If President Morte isn't sick, why do you say that you can treat him?"
Audley had a mocking look on his face. This shorty was speaking incoherently. Wait till I ask a few more questions, I will definitely let him slap his own face.
"Can't I treat him just because he isn't sick?"
Zhang Xing asked in return.
"Haha …"
Everyone's mocking laughter rang out.
If he wasn't sick, why treat him?
Who wasn't sick?
This shorty's brain wasn't good and was extremely stupid.
"You said that President Morte isn't sick and can be treated. I am a little confused. How about this, you treat him for all of us to see."
"If you can really treat him, I, Audley, will kowtow to you on the spot and acknowledge you as my master!"
Audley went straight to the point and checkmated Zhang Xing.
Acknowledge him as my master?
This wouldn't do. It was just a verbal statement. Although it would hurt Audley's face, it wouldn't give him any substantial benefits.
Zhang Xing shook his head. "I don't accept disciples easily. Change to another one."
Pfff!
You actually took it seriously and thought that you would definitely win. Audley almost vomited blood.
"Up to you. If you can really treat President Morte, you can make any request."
Zhang Xing nodded. With this sentence, it was fine. He turned around and wanted to treat him but was stopped.
"Wait a minute, Sir Zhang Kong. What if you can't treat him?"
If Audley didn't say it, the other chairmen behind him would also say it.
Both sides had already reached this stage and formed a bet. It couldn't be only one side that made a request, right?
"If I can't treat him, you guys can say anything."
Zhang Xing smiled indifferently.
Everyone was still satisfied with such an answer. Even without this bet, they didn't plan to let Zhang Xing off so easily.
Relatively speaking, they were just outsiders. The main thing was to see Armiki's attitude. After all, Zhang Kong was also a dwarf.
Zhang Xing didn't waste any more time and started to save him.
Indeed, Morte was not sick. It was just that he had cultivated a cultivation technique that caused him to be unable to speak or use his Qi.
As the president of the Blacksmith's Association, his cultivation base couldn't be low. He was at the Advanced Combat Emperor realm.
Previously, he had bought an incomplete hammer fighting technique from the black market. He could not help but practice it.
The title of the book was the Berserk Dwarf's 81 Hammer Forging Technique.
Unfortunately, there were only twenty-seven moves in the first volume.
When he first started practicing, his strength had indeed increased greatly, and the quality of the weapons he forged had also improved.
Overjoyed, he practiced crazily day and night. After three years, he finally mastered the twenty-seventh form.
After he had mastered the skill, he found Armik and had a competition. Using the same weapon material, the grade of the weapon was much higher. This made Morte ecstatic.
After going back, he would think of ways to research it, hoping to create a follow-up hammer technique with his own ability.
But he didn't expect that he would be paralyzed in a moment of carelessness.
If he didn't use his Qi carelessly and wanted to treat himself, he wouldn't have reached this stage.
In addition, the Qi in Morte's body was divided into two parts. One part was concentrated in the brain and the other in the soles of his feet. All the other organs had lost their power source and slowly started to fail.
Audley was a Advanced Demon Emperor and a doctor who followed the rules. In such a situation, where could he find the cause of the illness?