I thought I'd picked up a low-level cultivator who was gravely wounded and on the verge of death to serve as my medicine-testing slave. Day in and day out, I beat and berated him, humiliating him in every way and forcing him to taste bitter poisons to prove my mastery of the Pill Dao. Who could have guessed that at the grand medicine-testing ceremony, he would calmly ascend to the Ninth Heaven, bathed in boundless immortal light? Only then did I realize in horror: how could he possibly be a mere medicine-testing slave? He was clearly... He lowered his eyes and asked calmly, "Which ingredient am I testing today?" The Immortal Emperors in the hall trembled and prostrated themselves, while I stood frozen on the pill platform, as if plunged into an eternal, icy abyss.
