Li Qingyun stepped forward quickly and peered into the belly of the cauldron. He naturally had to inspect the quality of the ingredients carefully. He could not make such a mistake and let the gray-robed phantom play dumb over the materials.
The instant he looked, a chill seemed to spiral up from the soles of his feet and rush straight into his brain!
"Ah! Save me, Fellow Daoist, save me..."
Within the cauldron's black-hole-like depths was the White-faced Daoist of the Sky-Devouring Roc Clan, a quasi-Saint Li Qingyun had seen before. Like an eagle stripped of every azure feather, his six wings had been severed apart, his hands and feet cut off, and he soaked in the mottled, multicolored medicinal liquid.
When the White-faced Daoist saw Li Qingyun, the "Slaughtering Immortal Sword," leaning down to look inside, he seemed to see a lifeline. He began shrieking miserably, begging Li Qingyun for help and crying for rescue.
A dignified quasi-Saint was like a chicken about to be served on the table, howling helplessly.
The scene was so lifelike that it seemed the gray-robed phantom had long since captured the White-faced Daoist and was waiting for Li Qingyun to join its grand pill-refining plan.
"What an eerie method..."
A chill ran through Li Qingyun's heart.
It was not because of the chick-like White-faced Daoist in the cauldron, but because he had become even more wary of this gray-robed phantom!
He had encountered the White-faced Daoist before arriving at this "grotto-heaven" within the bronze block.
Yet the gray-robed phantom somehow knew everything that had happened to Li Qingyun beforehand. Who knew what method it had used!
Still, the phantom had miscalculated. Li Qingyun had no friendship with the White-faced Daoist; there was only the grudge of having nearly been devoured.
The phantom's abilities