Fire Kiln, Medicine House.
Huddled by the furnace, Huang Xuan's face was grim. He was refining a Ninth-Grade Pill, a process that was not only incredibly intricate and complex but also extremely time-consuming. His lips were pressed into a thin line.
Beside him, the group of medicine boys assisting him were as silent as cicadas in winter, not daring to make a sound.
The medicine boys who had been at the Medicine House for a while all knew.
This Pharmacist Huang had a habit.
Every two or three days, after all the orders were filled, he would close the doors to all visitors and focus single-mindedly on refining a type of Ninth-Grade Pill that no one else understood.
As soon as he finished refining them, no matter how many there were, he would swallow the entire batch in one go.
With every pill he ate, a bit of color would return to his face.
But the longer they stayed, the more the apprentices and medicine boys began to notice...
