"Blood separation technique?!"


    The young man''s forehead was covered with fine beads of sweat, and his breathing was almost stagnant.


    "If I''m not mistaken, the person who detoxified Xuan''er is your ancestor."


    "He used his spiritual power to expel all the toxins in the internal organs, but he was unable to separate the toxins in the blood, so he had to use a secret method to expel all the toxins to the lower body, seal the meridians, and save his life at the expense of his legs being disabled."


    Su Qingluo smiled slightly: "Am I right?"


    The young man was convinced: "What the girl said ispletely consistent with the treatment n of my ancestors, there is no mistake or omission."


    "Now that you understand, go back."


    Su Qingluo smiled warmly, a golden light shed between his brows, and arge amount ofplicated and difficult information shot into the young man''s forehead and poured into his sea of ??consciousness.


    "I have taught you the art of blood separation, you canprehend it by yourself, ande to me again when you have mastered it."


    "Thank you for your generous teaching, Cann said goodbye, and I will not bother you again until the day you finish your training."


    The young man''s mind is exquisite and clear, and he knows that Su Qingluo''s gift of secret skills is because he values ??him. But the fact is as she said, he is currently low in cultivation, not qualified to practice her medical skills.


    That being the case, he will not bother her anymore, and one day, when he is sessful in cultivation, he will continue his rtionship.


    Su Qingluo was very satisfied with his exquisite heart, held up the little prince''s tender little hand, and taught him the farewell etiquette with a smile: "Xuan''er, be good, say goodbye to Brother Lan."


    "Brother Lan, goodbye."


    When the little prince heard that the boy was about to leave, his big eyes sparkled, and he yelled in a childish voice, and happily snuggled into his sister''s arms.


    "Goodbye Xuan''er, brother Lan is very happy to see your happy smiling face."


    The young man was in aplicated state of mind, he wanted to rub the little prince''s head, but when he thought of his rejection, he withdrew his hand embarrassingly.


    "Brother Meng, see off the guests."


    The young man interrupted rashly and wasted too much time. Su Qingluo let out a faint breath thinking that he would have ss in the afternoon.


    ing."


    Wang Meng has been guarding the door, and when he heard the little master calling him, he raised the curtain and looked into the room with a smile.


    "Farewell."


    The young man blushed, met his yful gaze, saluted respectfully, turned and left awkwardly.


    "Go, I''ll take you to the ferry."


    Seeing himing out, Wang Meng narrowed his eyes with a smile.


    The young man hastily declined: "Don''t bother little brother, Cann knows the way."


    "You are a guest from afar, how can you go by yourself?"


    Wang Meng wanted to inquire about the details of the conversation, so he couldn''t help but dragged his arm and left.


    "Hey, little brother, slow down."


    The boy staggered and almost fell down due to his brute force.


    "I''ll go and see what''s going on."


    The little kingfisher had new fun and couldn''t stay still for a moment. It pped its small wings and got out of the window, hovering above the two of them.


    "Mom, let''s eat, if you don''t eat, you will bete for school."


    Su Qingluo let the little kingfishere and go, opened the window, and acted like a baby with her delicate voice.


    "Okay,e here."


    Li Xiu''e responded loudly in the kitchen, and brought lunch over after a while, and ate with the two children.


    *******************


    During the break in the afternoon, Su Qingluo asked Tian Qi to lead a group of younger brothers to practice writing with his left hand in the ssroom.


    The characters on her right hand are so different from ordinary people that no matter how much she conceals them, it is impossible to believe that they were written by an eight-year-old girl.


    Writing with the left hand is a practice of patience, and the crooked strokes just confuse the line of sight, pretending to be a child''s handwriting.


    "Hello, can I talk to you?"


    She was practicing vigorously, when a girl''s soft and weak voice suddenly sounded in her ears.


    "Um?"


    He raised his head in a daze, and what caught his eyes was a gorgeously dressed, delicate little girl.