November in northern Beihai was bitterly cold, a season when dripping water froze into ice.
Kneeling on the ground, Zhang Ying prostrated himself at Zhao Yi's feet, not daring to move! Tiny tentacles flailed above his head, drops of mucus dripping from their slick, sticky surfaces like sweat.
Silence fell over the island. Both Wang Qing and Guiwu huddled off to one side. Wang Qing kept his eyes half closed, his ears pricked for any sound, while Guiwu hid inside his shell, peeking out with only his tiny, mung-bean turtle eyes!
Time slowly passed. The sweat rolling off Zhang Ying's towering body had already soaked the ground and turned into a layer of frost.
"Since I placed you under contract, have I ever beaten or berated you?"
"No! M-Master!"
Zhang Ying wanted to say something, but having only just assumed human form, he simply could not speak quickly!
"Have I ever broken my word?"
"No!"
"Have I ever treated you differently?"
"Hm?"
After all, Zhang Ying had only just assumed human form, and there were still some things he did not understand.
Seeing this, Zhao Yi shook his head. "What grade of Dao Foundation did you form?"
"A seventh-grade Dao Foundation."
He sighed. "Had you refined yourself for another six months or a year, you might have formed a middle-grade Dao Foundation! Now you have only a low-grade Dao Foundation. Your future Dao Path is cut off!"
"Zhang Ying is willing to stay by Master's side!" This sentence came out quite clearly.
"You may be spared death, but you cannot escape punishment. Next, you will kill a Dao Foundation Demon Cultivator for Guiwu!"
"Th-Thank you, Master!"
Zhang Ying prostrated himself on the ground again, then stood.
Withdrawing his aura, Zhao Yi walked back into his cave abode step by step.