Liu Meng stood tensely behind Qin Shuang, her heart hammering as if it were about to leap from her chest. Every fiber of her being trembled with anticipation.
She could feel Qin Shuang's gaze lingering on her original body for three whole breaths. Could it be… that she was truly interested?
No. Absolutely not. She could not allow Qin Shuang to claim her true self. Once her original fell into Qin Shuang's hands, it would be beyond her control. Who could guarantee what this cunning, newly-allied woman might do to Liu Ming?
Her plans, all of them, rested upon the absolute safety of her true body—even if it meant sacrificing this very clone.
Resolute, Liu Meng stepped forward, her voice calm yet precise:"Senior Sister Qin Shuang, look… that man seems worthy."
Though quiet, her words drew Qin Shuang's attention immediately.
The eyes hidden behind her mask flickered for a few heartbeats on Liu Meng before finally shifting to the man indicated. He was silent, unremarkable in appearance yet exuded a composed, measured aura, untouched by the chaos and despair surrounding him.
"Oh?" A spark of interest ignited in Qin Shuang's gaze. After a brief inspection, she nodded. "Indeed… he will do."
Immediately, a white-masked attendant flung open the cell door and dragged the composed man out. Liu Meng's tense chest finally relaxed.
Perhaps Qin Shuang had seen something in that brief glance—but she did not probe further. Instead, she had, knowingly or not, done Liu Meng a favor. Aligning with her now seemed a prudent choice.
With the ten men gathered, Qin Shuang did not linger. She turned and led the assembled group back to the grand hall.
On the dais, Su Meier yawned lazily, her gaze disinterested in the selected men. But her eyes locked on the black mask Qin Shuang wore.
"Now that you have entered Qi Refinement, you are no longer a mere attendant," she said. "By our rules, your mask must pass to another."
The hall held its breath. The black mask—symbol of command—was coveted by every attendant present. Even Liu Meng understood its significance: this was no ordinary trinket.
"Master," Qin Shuang said respectfully, bowing deeply, "I understand. Yet… to whom should the mask be entrusted?"
Su Meier's lips curled into a playful smile. "This is your final test as my disciple. Talent alone is not enough—you must discern true potential. The mask's new wearer is your choice. Choose well, and your wisdom shines; choose poorly, and you misplace trust."
The hall's attendants erupted in murmurs, jealousy and curiosity blazing in their eyes. Some senior attendants straightened, desperate to catch Qin Shuang's notice. Yet she did not even glance at them.
Calmly, she removed her black mask and walked to the back, placing it before the newest recruit—the one who had yet to even wear a mask.
"From today onward, you shall wear it," Qin Shuang's voice carried clearly to all ears, soft but unyielding.
"What?!""Who is she?!""This is unfair!" The hall erupted in outrage.
Even a senior white-masked attendant stepped forward, demanding, "Senior Sister, we have served faithfully for years! Why give it to an unknown newcomer?"
Su Meier's eyes, sharp as a phoenix's gaze, fell upon Liu Meng for the first time. "Oh? Qin Shuang, is this your choice? This little girl—today's newcomer—why do you entrust her with the black mask?"
Facing the scrutiny, Qin Shuang's expression remained unshaken. Bowing deeply to Su Meier, she spoke clearly:"Master, I choose Liu Meng for one reason alone."
Her voice rose slightly, carrying across the hall:"In the initiation trial, Liu Meng, upon her first attempt at the Mystic Female Sutra, utilized two corpses to successfully refine… eight threads of spiritual power!"
"Eight threads!?" The number thundered through the hall like a bolt from the heavens. Murmurs and objections died instantly, replaced by stunned silence.
Each attendant had faced the trial. To refine even two threads on a first attempt was extraordinary—eight? Unthinkable. How could she have achieved such a feat?
Su Meier's lazy smile vanished, replaced by an expression of awe. In an instant, she seemed to vanish from the dais, reappearing before Liu Meng like a specter.
"Lift your head." Her slender, icy fingers touched Liu Meng's brow, and a vast divine consciousness poured in, scanning every corner of her being.
Liu Meng felt utterly exposed—body, soul, and spirit laid bare.
Moments later, Su Meier withdrew her hand, her earlier restraint giving way to uncontainable exhilaration.
"Good! Excellent! Wonderful!" she exclaimed, her gaze burning like molten gold. "Eight threads of spiritual power… and the Child Art imprint is firmly rooted in her soul. Remarkable. Truly remarkable!"
She could sense Liu Meng's soul: the absolute control of the Mystic Female Sutra Child Art had taken hold. This once-in-a-century genius would forever be her most loyal servant, the perfect vessel for cultivation.
Su Meier's demeanor shifted completely. She personally took the black mask from Qin Shuang and, with almost tender reverence, placed it on Liu Meng's face.
"From this day forward, you are the new Black Mask—command all attendants under your authority. Train well. I anticipate the day you become my seventh disciple."
With Su Meier's blessing, no attendant dared to murmur. Their eyes of jealousy had turned into reverence and fear.
"Thank you, Master… thank you, Senior Sister Qin Shuang," Liu Meng whispered, bowing respectfully, the cold mask against her skin.
"Very well, Qin Shuang. You may leave." Su Meier waved, reclining once more on the dais.
Qin Shuang cast Liu Meng one final glance before departing with the ten bewildered men, leaving the hall in solemn quiet.
After a pause, Su Meier spoke lazily:"The time has come. Three days have passed, Liu Meng."
"I'm ready," Liu Meng responded instantly.
"Bring those who consumed the Guiding Yang Pill three days ago to me. Let us see… who among them can endure."