A month later.
For Zhang Fei Xuan and the others, that meant lying on the square for a month, living every day in a drunken stupor, waking up to consume elixirs before either meditating to refine Qi or practicing at night class, with no other activities.
Over such a long period, this had almost become an instinct; there was no need for Song Yin to say anything—the moment they finished refining, they simply collapsed and passed out, only to be whipped like dead bodies and pass out all over again.
What realm, what spells, what Jin Xian Grand Elixir Scripture; at this moment, all of this felt unreal to them, and they felt like nothing more than cultivation puppets, either cultivating or being refined every day.
This way of life...
"When will it ever end..."
Another morning arrived, and upon awakening, Zhang Fei Xuan silently shed tears at the sight of the rising sun.
Should have run away long ago.
