Shi Hou shifted into a comfortable position and leaned back in his chair.
"I know what you want. I'll put the pot on tonight. How many of you break through will depend on your good fortune."
The Pavilion Master's eyes lit up, and he was just about to agree.
Then Shi Hou changed tack. "But you'll have to provide the ingredients."
With that, Shi Hou pulled a crumpled roll of beast hide from inside his robe and flicked it toward Elder Zhuo Yun.
The hide unfurled in midair, revealing rows upon rows of densely packed charcoal writing.
Elder Zhuo Yun caught it and casually skimmed down the list.
His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
"Fifty stalks of five-hundred-year-old spirit medicine?!"
Zhuo Yun shrieked, spraying a faceful of spittle onto Xiong Fei beside him.
"Do you think these are wild radishes growing on the Rear Mountain? Fifty stalks! You've already stripped half the sect's Medicine Garden bare. Where are we supposed to find that many?"
Shi Hou picked his ear, his face full of disdain.
"What a fuss. Do you think great medicine that helps people break through is slapped together out of mud? If the medicinal potency isn't enough and you can't break through after drinking it, don't blame me."
The corner of the Pavilion Master's eye twitched violently.
Zhuo Yun forced down his anger and moved his gaze farther down the hide.
"A hundred thousand jin of pure-blooded descendants' flesh and blood?!!"
Elder Xiong Fei's voice cracked completely. Even the finger he pointed at Shi Hou was trembling.
"A hundred thousand jin! You couldn't fit even one percent of that into your lousy Black Pot! Are you cooking dinner or building a mountain of meat?!"
Shi Hou rolled his eyes and made a forceful squeezing motion with