There was no turning back now.
The moment the dark poison entered her body, it dispersed into her meridians. A chilling cold spread through her limbs and bones, and her mind gradually grew groggy.
Forcing down the discomfort, Song Yao compelled herself to stay conscious, carefully sensing the way the dark poison circulated within her body.
Wen Tang's brow furrowed deeply. “I will help you neutralize the poison right now. It should take about twenty hours.”
Changing her mind, Song Yao stopped her. “Wait, there's no need yet. Let me try some pills.”
Wen Tang froze, her voice turning cold. “You are testing the medicine on yourself? Your pills have side effects.”
Song Yao replied, “I can suppress the side effects myself.”
“Still, no,” Wen Tang insisted.
“There's nothing wrong with it. Keep an eye on me as well.”
“...”
She now regretted giving the red-thread control doll to Song Yao ten thousand times over.
Left to her own devices, Song Yao actually went and experimented on her own body like this.
If she didn't value her own life, she might as well have given it to Wen Tang. At least Wen Tang would never let her harm herself like this.
But there was no other way right now.
Just like in the past, once Song Yao made up her mind, no one could stop her.
She was far too strong-willed, and she knew exactly what she was doing.
Wen Tang took a deep breath. A red thread flew out, slicing open her palm, and she held a jade cup underneath to catch it.
Blood dripped steadily into the jade cup, a striking, vibrant red.
She handed it to Song Yao and said, “My blood is also poisonous.”
Song Yao's eyes lit up. Refining the antidote with her blood and testing the pills on her own body was indeed the most convenient method.
Thanking her, Song Yao dove straight into her room and began her research.
Calculating the time, Taiqing Pavilion and Beiyao Sect would likely make their move against Nine Saints Hall in about seven days.
If she could refine the pill before then, she could still head back to join in on the fun.
Wen Tang had never studied the pill-refining path, but she had a general idea of how it worked. Yet, this was her first time seeing someone like Song Yao.
Rather than relying on medicinal herbs, she seemed to rely more on her own spiritual root.
Condensing pills with her spiritual energy, the flow of spiritual energy in the center of every single pill she refined was completely different.
Was this... the God-grade wood spiritual root?
But wasn't she a God-grade metal spiritual root?
Over the next few days, Song Yao refined dozens of batches of pills.
Once refined, she would eat them; once eaten, she would pass out; once she woke up, she would refine more.
Her body and mind felt somewhat unwell, but compared to the hardships of practicing sword cultivation in her past life, this was nothing but a drop in the bucket.
This cycle continued for five days and five nights. On the evening of the fifth day, the cauldron hummed softly as a light, refreshing medicinal fragrance drifted out, dispersing the lingering chill in the room.
Song Yao lifted the lid. Over a dozen lustrous Qi-Replenishing Pills lay quietly at the bottom of the cauldron, their surfaces wrapped in a soft glow.
She leaned in, scooped one up, and popped it into her mouth.
The pill melted instantly, and a surge of chaotic spiritual energy washed over her.
Having tested the pills on herself dozens of times, she had already figured out the source of the side effects.
Before the pill took effect, it would release excess spiritual energy. This spiritual energy was too chaotic, which led to a series of negative side effects.
Sitting cross-legged beside the cauldron, she forcibly refined the disorganized spiritual energy.
After a moment, the remaining gentle spiritual energy carried the medicine's effects through her meridians and throughout her body. The dark poison that had plagued her for days melted away like snow.
It was a success.
Using Wen Tang's blood indeed allowed her to directly refine Qi-Replenishing Pills that could neutralize the dark poison.
Song Yao stuffed the remaining pills into a jade bottle and walked out, clutching it. “Tangtang, Tangtang, Tangtang...”
Her voice cut off abruptly when she saw the person by the door.
Outside, the sky was dim, and the light under the corridor was gloomy.
Wen Tang was leaning against the door frame, her head tilted, eyes tightly closed. She had already fainted.
Her face was so pale it was almost translucent, her lips entirely devoid of color, and her brow was knitted in extreme pain.
At her neck, several dark, eerie meridians bulged prominently, looking as though something was struggling beneath them.
Song Yao was startled.
This was clearly the backlash from practicing dark poison.
Wen Tang had seemed perfectly fine lately, leading Song Yao to think her dark poison wouldn't flare up again. It turned out the time simply hadn't come yet.
Moreover, judging by her current state, it seemed even more severe than before.
She hurriedly stuffed two Qi-Replenishing Pills into Wen Tang's mouth, then pulled out the red-thread control doll, intending to summon a few puppets.
However, she found that the red threads on the doll had turned a dull grey.
Not only that, but she could no longer sense the existence of any other puppets.
Song Yao frowned, realizing things had taken a turn for the worse. She quickly grabbed Wen Tang by the shoulders and dragged her into the room.
Just as she entered and before she could even settle Wen Tang down, a commotion arose outside.
Disorganized footsteps mixed with the clatter of metal weapons were rapidly approaching the courtyard.
They certainly came fast.
Song Yao's gaze darkened. She pulled the plush blanket from the bedside and quickly covered Wen Tang with it.
Then, she set up a barrier to conceal Wen Tang's aura around the bed. Composing herself, she turned and pulled the door open.
A dense crowd of evil cultivators—the very ones she had ordered to be locked up—was currently pouring into the courtyard. Seeing the door open, they all looked over, their gazes filled with blatant malice and testing intent.
At the front, the bald evil monk, whose wrist was still wrapped in blood-stained bandages, curled his lips into a hypocritical bow. “Greetings, Sect Master.”
Song Yao walked out without a change in expression, gently closing the door behind her.
Her clear gaze swept over the crowd, her tone devoid of emotion. “Who allowed you out?”
The one-eyed evil cultivator beside him wore a fake smile, his eyes constantly darting to the door behind Song Yao. “Replying to the Sect Master, just now, all the puppets outside suddenly collapsed and couldn't move. We were worried that something had gone wrong with Daoist Wen, so we came to check.”
He paused, his voice laced with unvarnished probe. “Judging by your expression, Sect Master... could it be that something really happened to Daoist Wen?”
Song Yao looked up at him and said flatly, “My senior sister is practicing dark poison, and the puppets are merely out of control temporarily... What? Are you trying to rebel?”
As soon as she said this, the evil cultivators exchanged looks, clearly unconvinced.
The bald evil monk took a step forward, the wound beneath his bloody bandages still throbbing with pain.
His tone was harsh and carried a heavy, oppressive weight. “With Daoist Wen's cultivation, if it were just ordinary practice, how could all the puppets on the mountain lose control? Sect Master, you had better step aside and let this humble monk go in to check on Daoist Wen's safety, so we can put our minds at ease.”
He began walking toward the door, bringing with him a gust of wind that smelled of blood.
The other evil cultivators were also eager to move, crowding forward with calculation written all over their eyes.
As long as Wen Tang had truly fallen and her protection was gone, this arrogant little brat would be as good as dead.
Standing in front of the door, Song Yao didn't take a single step back, looking rather annoyed.
Why did she still have to fight even after becoming the ruler?
What a hassle.
The bald evil monk at the very front had already reached her side. He cast a cold, sinister glance at her, his voice low and eerie. “Sect Master is still young and cannot take proper care of Daoist Wen. It is better to let this humble monk do it on your behalf. Do not block what you shouldn't block.”
With that, he thrust his Buddhist staff toward the door.
Just as it was about to touch the wooden door, a sharp swoosh pierced the air.
A thin thread suddenly shot out from the gap in the door, moving so fast it left only an afterimage as it pierced straight through his heart.
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