Zhong Lin downed a bowl of chicken soup in front of him in one gulp. This was no ordinary chicken soup; it contained various medicinal herbs, especially a century-old ginseng treasured by Old Xu for many years.
Ordinary people would get a nosebleed on the spot if they drank it, but for Zhong Lin, it was just right.
After finishing the chicken soup, he felt his internal Qi-blood had strengthened, and his whole body seemed to be soaking in warm water, feeling unconsciously relaxed.
Zhong Lin glanced at the dishes on the table, a hint of bitterness in his eyes.
As his cultivation improved, these ordinary foods were increasingly unable to meet his needs. Currently, Zhong Lin ate more than the other four people at the table combined, yet it merely filled his stomach without aiding his cultivation at all.
