The scene shifted...
A woman lay ill in bed. A youth with graying temples knelt beside her, gazing sorrowfully at the woman sleeping on the bed.
An old man with grizzled hair also stood beside her bed. He set down her hand and slowly shook his head at the youth.
The youth collapsed to the floor and roared at the old man, "Why? I already gave Mother the pills you gave me, so why did she still fall ill?"
"She is no cultivator. There is something strange about this plague, something beyond her ability to withstand. The pills could only prolong her life, not spare her this calamity!" The old man slowly shook his head and sighed deeply.
As though lost in a dream, the youth slowly rose and looked at the woman's pain-stricken face, his vision blurred by the glistening tears spilling from his eyes.
"There's still a way, isn't there?" The youth kept his eyes fixed on the woman as he spoke to the old man behind him.
"Unless..." The old man looked at the youth, his indifferent tone enough to send a chill through one's bones. "You kill several thousand mortals, take their essence blood, and refine it into a 'blood pill' for your mother to swallow. It could help her enter the Dao and keep her from dying!"
The youth whipped his head around to look at the old man.
The old man's expression was calm, the gray hair at his temples stirring gently in a breeze that blew into the room.
He merely watched the youth calmly. The choice lay in the youth's hands.
"Sever attachments and let go. An equal exchange. To gain something, you must give something up... this is the eternal, unchanging law of the path to immortality!"
"To save your mother,