An Ling was somewhat anxious.
But the drawing of lots was absolutely fair.
Names written on slips of paper were placed into a box, from which the Great Elder of the Pill Alliance personally drew.
Foo Chen finally woke up a bit, still drowsy, "What's finished?"
"Brother Foo, you're finally awake," An Ling shook his shoulder desperately, "the competition, Miss Zijin drew Qingxue."
"Oh," Foo Chen rolled his eyelids and turned over, "then Meng Qingxue is doomed, unless she decides to take it seriously. If she goes easy, it might be better for her."
An Ling frowned, "Brother Foo, you're confused from sleeping, aren't you talking backward?"
Meng Qingxue is doomed?
Even if Foo Chen himself went up to compete, at most it would be an even match with Meng Qingxue.
"I'm not talking backward," Foo Chen forced himself to be energetic, "I'm telling you, my master… Miss Ying is unmatched."
Even if their family ancestor came, he couldn't compare in terms of medical skills.
