Ma Tianlai took that small jar, didn't care what it was, and drank it down.
Previously, he could tolerate the pain in his chest and abdomen with some painkillers, and hospital check-ups found no issues. It wasn't a terminal illness, so although he was worried, he had excuses to comfort himself. But today the stomach pain had him rolling on the ground, painkillers were useless, and he remembered Beisitian saying he wouldn't live for many years, and fear seized his heart.
Now, his vast legacy was all built by him alone, and he had only recently gained a strong foothold in Hong Kong, not yet enjoying enough of others' reverence. He was really reluctant to die!
Ma Tianlai drank the contents of the small jar... was it water? Yes, what reached his mouth felt like water, and very soon he felt like a stream was poured into his burning, painfully inflamed stomach, quelling the area bubbling with molten lava.
