I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

The strange consciousness, having witnessed Zhang Yangqing's use of strange energy, is now genuinely beginning to have doubts.

How could a human possibly use the "devouring" talent that the bizarre creature relies on for survival in a more sophisticated, skillful, and efficient way than the real bizarre creature itself?!

This is totally illogical!
As Zhang Yangqing continued to devour the food, he casually replied, "I am not a monster."

He paused, seemingly considering his words, and then added casually, "It's just that I know a little bit about many things."

Do you know a little?
The eerie consciousness stared at the corpse of the Qing Tong clan chief, which was visibly shriveling up, and at the terrifyingly efficient devouring speed, like a gluttonous beast swallowing the heavens, and fell into a long silence.

This is what they call "knowing a little"?!

It finally understood.

When this expert in front of me says he "knows a little," it's an expression that's so humble it's almost hypocritical.

The reality is that he not only knows how to do it, but he is at a top-level master level. Even in the "professional field" of bizarre creatures, his expertise is enough to crush 99% of his kind!
No wonder he wasn't afraid of being possessed at all.

No wonder he dared to keep himself inside his body.

No wonder, when he subdued me, he easily suppressed me to only 3% control.

Because in front of Zhang Yangqing, this nascent, strange consciousness that thought it possessed power was, from beginning to end, just a little ant that jumped around happily but was actually no threat at all.

At that moment, the lingering thought of a counterattack in the mind of the eerie consciousness melted away completely, like ice and snow under the sun.

It had once thought that when it became stronger, when Zhang Yangqing was injured, weak, and unconscious, it would seize the opportunity to launch a counterattack and regain control of the body.

It is, after all, strange, and by nature has a tendency to turn against its host and seize control.

But now, watching Zhang Yangqing's method of devouring, and feeling the other party's unfathomable, seemingly bottomless realm, it realized: this thought can only ever be a thought.

Possession? Backlash?
Do not make jokes.

Given Zhang Yangqing's understanding and control over the strange power, even if it cultivated for another hundred years, it would be impossible to shake the opponent in the slightest.

It even suspected that Zhang Yangqing's reason for keeping it was not simply to tame or utilize it.

It's basically just kept for fun, and used as an experimental subject for research.

But it no longer cares at this moment.

The eerie consciousness remained silent for a long time, and then, in its sea of ​​consciousness, it spoke softly in an unprecedented, almost pious tone: "Great God, following you doesn't seem so bad."

It wasn't defeated by beatings.

It's true, I'm completely convinced.

Zhang Yangqing did not respond.

He simply continued to absorb the essence from the corpse of the Qing Tong clan chief, and finally, he was replenished and began to slowly recover.

Outside the main hall, cheers continued to resound.

A new era is quietly unfolding on these ruins.

But he still has a long way to go.

When Zhang Yangqing walked out of the main hall, the outside was already a river of blood.

It was not a brutal massacre, but rather the inevitable trace left after the cleansing of order.

The wicked overseers and stubbornly resisting core disciples of the Qing Tong family have all become cold corpses, dragged to a corner of the square and piled up.

Fresh blood meandered along the cracks in the stone, gleaming with a dark red luster under the dim light of the ore.

But the world of the living has been completely transformed.

The Eagle Eye miners and veteran miners had a clear division of labor and cooperated almost perfectly. The Eagle Eye miners were responsible for the "dark side".

He led a group of ruthless miners who were completely obedient to him, cutting away the remaining cancerous growths of the Qing Tong family.

His eyes were cold, his words concise, he never explained, and he never hesitated.

Every stubborn individual he pulled out of the crowd was dragged away amidst terrified pleas for mercy, and then no one ever saw them again.

He was a despicable person to begin with, opportunistic, fickle, and ruthless.

But at this moment, these petty traits, under the "legitimate violence" given by Zhang Yangqing, are transformed into a terrifying and efficient tool.

He knew who should be killed, who was still useful, and who could be kept alive for observation.

His calculations were as shrewd as abacus beads, each one precisely placed.

The veteran miners were responsible for the "public" aspects.

With a gentle but weary smile, he led his fellow miners, who also came from humble backgrounds, knocking on the doors of ordinary craftsmen and merchants in the former Qing Tong family territory.

The old miner's voice was hoarse, but it carried a reassuring sincerity: "Fellow villagers, don't be afraid, don't panic. We killed the Qing Tong family patriarch who oppressed us, and the bloodsucking foreman. We will not harm you, who earn your living with your skills and strength."

He pointed to the miners outside the door who were carrying supplies and patrolling in formation: "We used to be miners too, just like you, exploited and looked down upon. Today, our leader has helped us turn our lives around, but we are not here to rob you. We will continue to work and run our shops as usual."

Someone asked timidly, "Then who will take care of us?"

The old miner smiled and said, "From now on, we'll take care of ourselves."

Meanwhile, another team was taking inventory of the Qing Tong family's warehouse.

Piles of spirit stones, medicinal herbs, weapons, armor, cultivation resources, and mountains of grain and dried meat.

The veteran miners personally supervised the process, meticulously registering each transaction, and then distributing the funds according to contribution and need to the tens of thousands of miners who participated in the uprising and are still hungry and dressed in rags.

When the first batch of hot food was distributed, when the heavy shackles that had been worn for years or even decades were completely removed, when the chips in the brain were reverse-engineered and permanently shut down by instruments.

Holding their food, the miners touched their necks, which had been freed, and many burst into tears on the spot.

They finally had their fill.

They can finally be human beings with dignity.

And everyone knows in their hearts who gave it to them.

It's that person.

He was the one who shattered the statue of the first patriarch of the Qing Tong family with a single sword strike.

He was the one who slaughtered the Qing Tong clan chief in front of everyone, as if he were a chicken.

It was that man who wore the same tattered miner's clothes as them, yet seemed to have stepped out of a myth.

At this time, Zhang Yangqing did not need to personally distribute the grain, nor did he need to appease the people one by one, nor did he need to issue orders in detail.

His mere presence, simply standing there, is a symbol of power.

Humans, when confused and fearful, instinctively crave guidance from superior and stronger individuals.

Zhang Yangqing was too lazy to be their leader, after all, a leader needs to plan, make decisions, and take responsibility.

Zhang Yangqing is their god.

God does not need to speak.

God only needs to exist. (End of Chapter)