While Others Practice Immortality, I Practice the Elixir of Destruction

Mortal flow, no system Li Dahai, Wulinggen's handyman disciple, only has three months left before being expelled from the Qingyang Sect. Over the past three years, he has watched the Tianlinggen disciples practice on the clouds, and listened to the legend of the leader breaking mountains and cracking rocks. The dream of cultivating immortals has long been engraved in his bones. But the handyman disciple has no resources and no guidance. He can't even touch the threshold of Qi refining stage. Like other mortal handymen, he is about to be kicked out by the sect like exchanging firewood. In the alchemy room, seven useless elixirs that Elder Mo regarded as rubbish became his last life-saving straw. These elixirs refined with spiritual grass are so toxic that they can poison a disciple in the Qi refining stage, but they are the only "opportunity" he can encounter. The same batch of disciples were already in the foundation building stage, but he had to swallow the waste pill to fight for his life - if he succeeded, he would stay in the immortal sect; if he failed, he would die suddenly on the spot. Elder Mo saw through his mind. The reminder of "send death" was floating in the wind, but Li Dahai tightened his grip on the waste pill. In this world of immortality that treats mortals like ants, if you can't become an immortal, what's the difference between being dead and dying? He hid in a corner with seven useless elixirs. A mortal's life would always try to compete with the immortal cultivator.