"Human blood types are generally divided into four types: A, B, C, and D. Of course, there are also some very special blood types, which are relatively rare and are not within the scope of normal consideration. As long as you know, only people with the same blood type can receive blood transfusions.

Once the wrong blood type is transfused, according to the existing medical conditions, death is basically certain."

Cheng Chumo was still confused, but Cheng Yaojin understood: "In other words, as long as the blood types match, what about the Qiang people?"

"Theoretically it's possible."

Before Yun Ye could finish speaking, Cheng Yaojin waved his hand: "Go and bring me those Qiang prisoners!"

Soon, dozens of ragged Qiang prisoners were brought up. These Qiang prisoners thought Cheng Yaojin was going to kill them, so they all huddled together.

Cheng Yaojin said to Yun Ye: "Are these people enough? There is still more."

"That's enough. Zhuang San Ting is a common blood type A. With so many people, there should be quite a few that match it."

"Then take a quick test."

Yun Ye took out a needle and test paper, pricked the Qiang prisoner's finger, and dripped onto the test paper. He was really lucky, and when he tested the second blood type, it was the same blood type as Zhuang Santing.

Cheng Chumo said eagerly: "Now that we have found the same blood type, can we do a blood transfusion?"

"Well, I'm going to get the tools."

"No need to go to so much trouble, just bring him in."

Cheng Yaojin lifted the Qiang man's neck, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered, and strode into the tent. He was also curious about how this thaumaturgy of "blood transfusion for life" was performed.

In the tent, Qin Hao had already stitched up the six more serious wounds on Zhuang Santing's body.

"Hurry up and get a blood transfusion, he won't be able to hold on anymore."

When Yun Ye saw this, he didn't dare to delay. He immediately took out the needle from the first aid kit, found the vein on the Qiang man's arm and inserted it.

The Qiang man wanted to struggle, but was pinned down by Cheng Yaojin and Cheng Chumo. He could only watch as the blood on his body was extracted bit by bit into the strange transparent vessel.

"Woo~~~" The Qiang people kept mumbling something, and Yun Ye couldn't understand it. In addition, Zhuang Santing over there was already in critical condition, so he couldn't care about so much. After drawing 500 ml of blood,

He quickly gave Zhuang Santing a blood transfusion.

"Is this the end?" Cheng Chumo blinked. This was a little different from the "blood transfusion killing" he imagined.

Before he could finish speaking, the Qiang man's limbs went limp. Cheng Chumo thought the guy had fainted from fright, but when he checked his breathing, Cheng Chumo was dumbfounded.

"he died."

Cheng Yaojin's eyes widened and he reached out to feel the pulse of the Qiang man's neck.

"This is how blood transfusion can kill someone. It's really miraculous!"

At the same time, Cheng Yaojin secretly rejoiced that he came out early and didn't let this kid do anything stupid. Otherwise, if the son he finally raised died like this, wouldn't it be a huge loss?

Thinking of this, Cheng Yaojin glared at his son fiercely.
Chapter completed!