For the rest of the journey, Wen Tang walked stiffly and numbly, as if she were being controlled.
Song Yao watched her in bewilderment for a moment before coming to a conclusion.
It had to be a side effect of becoming a puppet.
Her condition was acting up again.
Not bothering to fret over Wen Tang, she jogged ahead and struck up a conversation with the youth with a cheerful smile. “How should I address you, sister?”
Wen Tang, whose steps were a bit floaty, was caught off guard by another mention of “sister.” She looked up, her face instantly darkening.
How could she be so casual?
Why did she have to flirt with everyone she met?
Her walking wasn't stiff anymore. She yanked the red thread in her hand, forcing a bit of distance between Song Yao and the youth.
The youth had mostly dealt with evil cultivators and had rarely seen someone so beautiful—someone who looked like an immortal straight out of a storybook. Blushing furiously at her address, she stammered, “Chao An. My older sister is the City Master of Shao City, Chao Ning.”
“Lovely names, lovely names.”
After offering the compliment, Song Yao added, “Actually, I have another reason for coming to Shao City. I need to purchase some medicinal herbs. Are there still any shops open in town?”
Chao An paused, a different look creeping into her eyes as she stared at her.
She had claimed she wanted to help them out of righteousness, but could she be just like the other immortal sects, taking advantage of their misfortune to plunder their herbs?
She glanced hesitantly at Song Yao, then at Wen Tang, who was walking silently behind her like a cold, ghostly shadow.
The one in front looked thin and weak, even a bit sickly, but the one behind her seemed far stronger than any of the immortals they had seen before.
Lowering her eyes, she resigned herself to her fate and said, “Most of the shops in town have closed down. Only a few selling food are still open. Just tell me what herbs you need, and I'll do my best to find them for you.”
Song Yao pulled a list out of her spatial pouch and handed it to her. “I want as much of everything on this list as you can find.”
As much as we can find...
She really was a greedy one.
But when she glanced at the herbs on the list, she froze.
Why were they all such basic, inexpensive herbs?
Even if she took every single one of these herbs in Shao City, they wouldn't be worth much.
Chao An could hardly believe it. “You only want these?” she asked.
“Yes,” Song Yao replied. “We can negotiate the price.”
Chao An quickly waved her hands. “No, that's not what I meant.”
Seeing that the girl seemed a bit afraid of her, Song Yao couldn't help but smile. “It's fine even if it is.”
She reached into her spatial pouch to pull out some spirit stones, but a pale, jade-like hand from behind beat her to it, holding out a jade token.
Song Yao blinked in surprise, and Chao An froze as well, waving her hands again. “No, no, it's fine. These herbs... it's really nothing. Since you need them, Immortal, please just take them...”
She's certainly practiced at offering tribute, Song Yao thought.
Not being one to stand on ceremony, Song Yao took the jade token from Wen Tang's hand and stuffed it into Chao An's arms. “It's fine. Take it.”
“This...” Chao An stammered.
Since she wasn't spending her own money, Song Yao didn't feel any pinch and was incredibly generous. “We of Nine Saints Hall never take things for free. Just keep it.”
Not daring to push back any further, Chao An nodded meekly and put the jade token away.
Then, looking toward the residence ahead, she said, “We're here. My sister is inside.”
The three of them walked inside. There were quite a few people there, and the situation was almost identical to what they had seen in Windbell Town—room after room was filled with the injured.
Song Yao casually checked the condition of a few people, her brow furrowing.
Great.
Dark poison again.
It must have been left behind when those puppets attacked this place.
She glanced back at Wen Tang, who was following closely behind her, feeling a bit troubled.
Given Wen Tang's current state, she didn't know if she would be willing to detoxify them.
Massaging her temples, Song Yao continued walking deeper inside.
The door to the innermost room was tightly shut, and weak coughs could be heard from inside every now and then.
Stepping inside, she saw an older woman lying on the bed. Her face was pale, and her lips were completely devoid of color.
Chao An's face was filled with sorrow. “Ever since she was struck by that immortal from Taiqing Pavilion, my sister has been like this. She's getting weaker by the day, and taking healing medicine hasn't helped at all.”
A strike from a cultivator was naturally fatal to an ordinary person.
Song Yao took half a step forward, lifted the blanket, and reached for her pulse.
After assessing her condition, she reached out to pull open her collar.
Wen Tang's brow furrowed deeply. A red thread shot out ahead of Song Yao, hooking the outer robe and pulling it aside.
Song Yao pulled her hand back and said to Wen Tang, “Are you afraid I'm going to take liberties with her? What's wrong with a little touching between girls?”
Wen Tang: “...”
Song Yao was just speaking off the cuff. After saying her piece, she narrowed her eyes to examine the palm print on the woman's shoulder.
The blow had been heavy, delivered with lethal intent.
Her shoulder was likely fractured.
Song Yao pulled out two pills and handed them to Chao An. “Tie your sister up first, then feed her these pills.”
Chao An took them gratefully but was somewhat puzzled. “Why do I need to tie my sister up?”
“You'll understand once you feed them to her,” Song Yao replied. “Whatever happens to your sister within the next half hour is normal. If she isn't fully recovered, feed her another one tomorrow, and she should be completely healed.”
“Th-thank you so much,” Chao An said.
Seeing Song Yao heading out, she quickly added, “I will go prepare the herbs you requested right away. Please rest here for a moment.”
...
By the time they collected the herbs and returned to Black Cloud Mountain, night had already fallen.
Song Yao refined two batches of pills, then lay flat on top of the cauldron, yawning sleepily as her mind wandered.
Would it be bad to send these refined pills back to Nine Saints Hall? If the three major sects started fighting and the Nine Saints Hall cultivators went crazy after taking her pills, what then? I wonder if it could serve as a deterrent. Maybe she should send them to Taiqing Pavilion and Beiyao Sect instead? Let them go crazy too. And the people of Shao City were waiting as well... But she was just a minor pill cultivator. How was she supposed to cure dark poison?
Song Yao tossed and turned before rolling off the cauldron to continue refining.
Forget it.
She couldn't worry about all that.
She would just refine some pills and keep them on hand for now.
If Nine Saints Hall fell in the future, she could just grab some pills and flee. At least she wouldn't starve to death.
After furiously refining six batches of pills, she was on the verge of fainting. She leaned backward, but she didn't fall.
Wen Tang caught her just in time, her brow furrowing as she spoke in a chilling voice, “Refining pills like this... do you have a death wish?”
Resting against her chest, Song Yao didn't budge. Her eyes half-closed with exhaustion, she mumbled lazily, “I don't have a death wish. I'll just pass out for a bit, and I'll be fine in no time.”
Wen Tang's expression grew even colder. “Is this to save Nine Saints Hall, or to save Shao City?”
With her vision blurring, Song Yao whimpered, “Can't it be to save myself?”
Wen Tang was perplexed. “Are they really that important to you?”
Song Yao's tone softened, her words slurring. “Of course not... None of them are as important as you.”
With that, her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep.
Wen Tang: “...”
Her chest felt numb, and her hands clenched into fists.
Liar.
She was lying to her again.
She always said she was important, but what difference was there really between her weight in Song Yao's heart and those of the countless others?
She looked down at her, and seeing the girl's troubled, furrowed brow and slightly pouted lips, she only felt more irritated.
Why, even at this point, was she still reluctant to see Song Yao troubled?
Why did she still want to keep Song Yao happy, even though she clearly resented her?
Reaching out, she gently smoothed the furrow between Song Yao's brows, staring down at her as a storm of complex emotions swirled in her eyes.
After an unknown amount of time, she materialized the puppet wrapped in red threads once again and placed it into the sleeping Song Yao's hand.
Her voice was soft, carrying a hint of resignation. “Third Senior Sister... take control of me.”
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