"BLECH—"
Inside Yang An's residence at the Life Crane Sect, the Corpse Slave, Fugui, held up a spittoon, precisely catching the acidic bile Yang An vomited.
His Second Senior Brother, Fu Ming, had certainly been right. All that food was highly nourishing; in fact, it was digested the moment it entered Yang An's stomach.
As a result, all he could do was retch up bile, which was incredibly unpleasant.
The more normal-looking items were fine. Even though they had bizarre names, he at least had no psychological burden eating them, treating them as ordinary food.
But the bizarre, living things and chunks of flesh were a different story. The psychological impact on Yang An was immense, but he could only steel himself and force them down.
After he finished eating, a thick, foul, coppery stench lingered in his mouth and nose, refusing to dissipate. This was the main reason for his nausea and vomiting.
