The voice pierced into his ears, and Little Jiu Nian's eyes, which had been squinting from the pain, suddenly widened.
He looked around suspiciously.
He found himself inside a cave, with a warm bonfire burning.
There was no one nearby, it seemed, he wasn't dead yet.
Who was talking to him?
At this moment, the voice came again.
"If you move, the wound will reopen, and not even an immortal could save you."
This time, Little Jiu Nian heard it clearly—the voice was coming from the small tiger, Chichi, crouching across from him.
"You, you, Chichi, how can you talk?"
Ignoring the pain, Little Jiu Nian stammered, staring at Chichi as if he'd seen a ghost.
Though he was young, it didn't mean he couldn't understand.
Tigers don't talk; he'd never heard of animals talking before.
Thinking of this, Little Jiu Nian's mouth puckered, and his voice started to choke, his little shoulders trembling.
