It's hard to imagine that the "filth" derived from a person could fill an entire alchemy room.
Gao Ming watched the still writhing black substance, in which occasionally skewed human faces and limbs flashed through. They could neither speak nor seek help, merely merging with more black matter.
"Stuff refined from a butcher's body, even the Spirit Temple couldn't dispose of it quickly?" Gao Ming and Bai Huang exchanged glances. The Spirit Temple wasn't omnipotent; even the so-called "divine" had their limitations, which was good news for them.
"Fellow, you better leave quickly. Don't let the filth from the butcher's body taint your spiritual heart." The one-armed alchemy master spoke slowly; he bore no alchemy marks on him and was prepared to leave after discarding the waste pills. His warning to Gao Ming was purely out of goodwill, without ulterior motives.
