Song Yao woke up to find herself, for some inexplicable reason, transformed from a puppet emperor into a true emperor.
The Regent voluntarily relinquished military power, handing over all of Black Cloud Mountain, along with herself.
Song Yao didn't understand. Song Yao couldn't comprehend it.
Didn't Wen Tang lack emotions and desires? Wasn't Wen Tang deeply obsessed with her? What kind of move was this?
She sat up from the bed. Wen Tang stood opposite her, calmly explaining, “I previously broke free from this item's control because of you, but if this thing falls into your hands, I can't break free.”
“Oh, oh.” Song Yao didn't understand. “Then why give it to me?”
Wen Tang's eyelashes trembled slightly. “Because I can't control myself.”
Song Yao was even more confused. “Can't control yourself from what?”
Wen Tang: “...Can't control myself from wanting to lock you up.”
Song Yao hissed, “That's quite serious. Liking to lock people up isn't a good habit. No wonder so many people are still locked up in the caves outside.”
Wen Tang's expression immediately became complex. She suddenly felt like snatching the control doll back. “Those weren't locked up by me.”
Song Yao: “Oh, oh.”
She thought for a moment, then asked, “So, Black Cloud Mountain listens to me?”
Wen Tang nodded. “I already said before, if you're the Sect Master, of course they'll listen to you.”
Before, it was a title without substance; now, she truly held power.
Song Yao immediately found it interesting. She casually grabbed an outer robe and draped it on. After two steps, she nearly tripped. Looking down, she saw the red thread and declared with renewed authority, “This can be removed now, right?”
Wen Tang's fingertips, hanging by her side, tightened slightly. A faint struggle flashed in her dark, deep eyes.
After a long silence, she finally raised her hand and performed a hand seal.
The end of the dark red thread retracted, transforming into a delicate red string anklet, adorned with two small golden bells, tied around Song Yao's ankle.
Song Yao glanced at it and didn't object further.
It was just an ornament. She already wore plenty of trinkets, so one more anklet made little difference.
She turned and walked out, swaying as she went to the main hall. She casually beckoned an evil cultivator guarding the hall and ordered, “Gather everyone from Black Cloud Mountain in the main hall. I have something to say.”
Then, she confidently settled onto the jade throne, looking like a new official eager to make an impact.
The evil cultivator dared not resist and quickly complied.
In just a moment, all the evil cultivators and demonic cultivators on Black Cloud Mountain were forced to surge into the great hall.
This was the first time they had all gathered since Wen Tang took control of Black Cloud Mountain.
One by one, they entered the hall reluctantly, each with their own thoughts. When their gaze fell upon the main seat, they all paused in slight astonishment.
Sitting on the main seat wasn't Wen Tang, but rather an exceedingly handsome young man.
He wore a loose, bamboo-green common robe, with two frog buttons unfastened at the collar, and his dark hair was simply tied up with a plain wooden hairpin.
Perhaps she had waited for a while, as she appeared languid and a bit weary, coolly detached. She seemed utterly out of place in this gloomy and oppressive hall, like a frail young master from a noble family who had stumbled into a demon's den.
A few people recognized her.
Wasn't this the young cultivator who had previously released those children from the Ming family and been captured by Ye Chang'an?
Everyone instinctively glanced behind her again. Wen Tang stood motionless by her side, still in her ink-black robes, radiating an extreme chill.
The evil cultivators were stunned for a moment.
Ever since Wen Tang attacked Young Master Ye that day, Black Cloud Mountain had completely fallen into her hands.
Moreover, it was rumored that she was hiding a Seventh Personal Disciple of Nine Saints Hall in the main hall, keeping her well-concealed. Few had seen her, only hearing that she was a very beautiful young girl.
A few days prior, a command had been issued, stating that this young girl was to become the Sect Master.
Now, seeing her, it turned out to be none other than she.
The evil cultivators immediately exchanged glances, their eyes filled with undisguised disdain and resentment.
Wen Tang's methods were ruthless; her puppetry had suffocated the entire Black Cloud Mountain, leaving them utterly subdued.
But this frail-looking, half-grown girl before them, with her delicate skin, had only managed to let a few children escape by chance earlier. Ultimately, her cultivation was nothing special. By what right could she become their Sect Master?
Did she truly think Black Cloud Mountain was some kind of play-school for children?
Yet, as their gazes swept over the puppets standing solemnly at the hall entrance and then darted to Wen Tang, who stood beside the main seat, her body radiating an icy chill, the malicious words on their tongues were swallowed back.
Everyone in the hall held their breath, reluctantly lifting their robes and bowing with cupped hands. Their perfunctory bows barely lowered their backs, and their scattered voices clearly conveyed their unwillingness and resentment. “Greetings, Sect Master.”
Song Yao scanned the room and perked up again.
Well, well. Quite a few familiar faces.
There were at least a dozen she had pulled out to practice sword fighting with, and countless more she had robbed and beaten.
She randomly picked a “lucky” one, pointing at the bald evil monk in the center. “You, come here.”
The bald evil monk showed displeasure, standing still with a grim face and an arrogant posture. “What are your instructions, Sect Master?”
Song Yao propped her chin on her hand and asked, “Were those missing people from Shao City captured by you?”
The crowd below couldn't help but let out a cold laugh.
Could it be that this little personal disciple from Nine Saints Hall was here to uphold justice for others? How naive.
The bald evil monk slowly spoke, “What people from Shao City? This humble monk knows nothing. Sect Master, you've just arrived; do not listen to idle gossip and wrongly accuse your own people.”
He showed her no respect.
Song Yao drew out a prolonged “Oh,” then turned her head to look up at Wen Tang beside her. “Tangtang, he's disrespecting me.”
Someone below immediately snickered.
She truly was just a child, not even fully grown, yet she was tattling.
But the next second, the dark red thread from Wen Tang's sleeve shot out like a venomous snake. A whooshing sound filled the air as it precisely pierced the bald evil monk's wrists.
“Ah—!” A shrill scream suddenly echoed through the great hall, drowning out the laughter.
The bald evil monk trembled violently. The staff in his hand clattered to the ground, and blood gushed from his wrists.
As the red thread retracted, he curled up on the ground in pain, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.
All the evil cultivators in the hall collectively gasped, instantly stifling their laughter. Each one straightened their back, no longer daring to overstep.
This Wen Tang was truly insane. After being refined into a puppet, she wouldn't even listen to Ye Chongguang, yet she obeyed this girl!
Song Yao slowly walked down from the jade throne, the bells on her anklet jingling softly.
She squatted down, poked the evil monk's bald head, where veins bulged, with her finger. A gentle smile still on her face, she asked good-naturedly, “Can you tell the truth now?”
Unfortunately, the bald evil monk was in too much pain to speak.
Song Yao had no choice but to give up. She then picked another “lucky” one from the crowd, beckoning to a one-eyed evil cultivator. “Come, you speak for him.”
This time, the one-eyed evil cultivator dared not refuse. He hastily bowed with cupped hands towards her. “It was all Elder Huaisang from Taiqing Pavilion! He ordered us to quickly capture people to refine into puppets! We dared not disobey. Shao City was close, so we—we went to Shao City and captured some people.”
Song Yao asked again, “How many people are left?”
The one-eyed evil cultivator stammered, “Those who haven't been refined into puppets... there are probably about ten left.”
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