If I, a death row inmate, am not to become a demon, am I to become a member of the Imperial Guard?

The flower-viewing banquet at the Prince Zhao's residence was held in the warm pavilion in the back garden.

The sky outside was somewhat overcast, and the lingering fragrance of osmanthus blossoms drifted through the window cracks in the breeze. Inside, however, it was warm and cozy, with fine silver-boned charcoal burning in the bronze crane incense burner, without a trace of smoke.

When Zhou Yang entered the room, all eyes were on him.

Those eyes were like needles, like knives, and like looking at a monkey that had just been dug out of the mud.

Seated in the main seat was Zhao Jue, the heir apparent to the King of Zhao. He was in his early twenties, dressed in a brocade robe, with a dragon-patterned jade pendant hanging from his waist, and a polite smile on his face. The smile was superficial, but deep in his eyes was undisguised contempt.

"Commander Zhou, your reputation was formidable in the Battle of Anyang. I, the young master, have prepared a simple feast to welcome you back."

Zhao Jue's voice was neither warm nor cold, like a feather tickling one's heart, itchy yet slightly unpleasant.

Zhou Yang didn't even lift his eyelids. He glanced at the dishes on the table. The whole roasted lamb was golden and crispy, steaming hot. Next to it was a plate of steamed perch, with green scallions and white flesh, clearly freshly caught from the river. There were also several delicate side dishes, whose names he didn't know, but each one exuded luxury.

He walked straight to an empty seat and sat down. The seat was the furthest from the head of the table, next to the door, like a servant waiting to be waited on.

A few suppressed chuckles came from the surrounding area.

"Hmph, you country bumpkin, you're no good."

"I heard he used to be a branch leader in the Heavenly Principles Sect. What kind of good person could he be?"

"How could Commander Qin bring such a person to the capital?"

Zhou Yang picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a large piece of roasted lamb leg, and stuffed it into his mouth. Oil dripped down his chin, but he didn't bother wiping it away, focusing only on chewing. The meat was roasted to perfection, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, but it was a bit too salty, making it unbearably sweet.

He picked up the wine glass in front of him again. It was an amber-colored pear blossom white, with a crisp aroma. He sniffed it, then drank it all in one gulp. Good wine, strong enough.

Zhao Jue's smile froze for a moment. He had hosted this banquet to humiliate this arrogant brat and force him to hand over the credit for Anyang Prefecture. But this man wasn't taking the bait at all. Did he think this trap was some roadside stall?

"Commander Zhou," Zhao Jue emphasized, "you're going to choke on all the credit for Anyang County by yourself, aren't you? Our Zhao family got a share of it."

Zhou Yang was gnawing on his second lamb leg when he heard this and mumbled, "Do you have any proof? If you don't, it's just nonsense."

The room fell silent.

A young man in a silk robe slammed his hand on the table and stood up: "How dare you! Zhou Yang, is this how you speak to His Highness the Crown Prince?"

Zhou Yang put down the lamb leg, picked up a clean cloth, and slowly wiped his hands and mouth. Then, he took out two sheets of oiled paper from his pocket and spread them on the table.

"Don't get angry, getting angry is bad for your health," he said, and began to pick up the dishes on the table. The fattiest piece of Dongpo pork, the whole steamed hairy crab, and the plate of stir-fried mountain delicacies that looked very expensive, he wrapped them one by one on the oil paper.

They moved swiftly and were very familiar with the process.

"It would be a shame to waste such good stuff," he muttered as he wrapped it. "I'll take it back for Qin Shuang to try; she'll definitely love it."

Zhao Jue's face darkened completely, turning from white to green, then from green to purple. The young noblemen around him were also dumbfounded. They had seen rude people before, but never anyone this rude. It was as if the young master's face was being put on the ground and ground against the sole of a boot.

"Guards!" Zhao Jue finally couldn't hold back any longer, his voice filled with murderous intent.

Zhou Yang seemed not to hear. He finished wrapping the last dish, carefully tied it, and nodded in satisfaction. Then, he picked up the half-finished pear blossom wine and took two gulps directly from the spout.

"Hiccup..." He let out a hiccup and squinted his eyes comfortably.

Just then, a servant carrying a bowl of soup stumbled, cried out "Ouch!" and staggered toward Zhou Yang. The steaming bowl of lotus seed soup was about to spill on Zhou Yang.

Zhou Yang's eyelids twitched.

It's not about avoiding, but rather an instinctive feeling.

The corpse puppet inside him seemed to be trembling slightly. Not with excitement, but with longing.

The aroma of the lotus seed soup carried a faint, almost imperceptible, fishy smell. It was "Qianji Yin," a slow-acting poison that, when it took effect, would cause the internal organs to feel as if they were twisted together by ropes, causing excruciating pain.

This poison is unworthy of someone in the Imperial Guard. But it's enough to deal with a "nouveau riche."

Zhou Yang did not dodge.

Instead, he reached out and steadily caught the tipped-over soup bowl. A few drops of hot soup splashed out, burning the back of his hand and causing a red welt.

"Be careful," he said to the servant who was pale with fright.

Then, in front of everyone, he picked up a spoon, scooped up a spoonful of lotus seed soup, and smelled it.

"It smells so good."

After saying that, he drank the whole bowl of lotus seed soup.

He drank it all in one gulp.

A cold smile finally crept onto Zhao Jue's lips. The group of young masters who had been watching the spectacle also revealed expressions of anticipation. This ignorant fool dared to humiliate the prince like this; he deserved to die.

Zhou Yang finished his soup, put down the bowl, and sighed contentedly.

He could feel the faint toxin slide down his throat into his stomach, then vanish without a trace, like a clay ox sinking into the sea. Inside his body, the invisible corpse puppet seemed to have had a hearty meal, releasing a tiny, almost imperceptible amount of energy that seeped into his limbs and bones.

[Ding! Absorbed trace amounts of toxins, lifespan increased by 3 days.]

Zhou Yang's heart skipped a beat.

This is a great deal. I got a free feast and even gained three extra days of life.

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the dishes on the table before finally settling on Zhao Jue's smug face.

He suddenly laughed.

The smile was so gentle that it made Zhao Jue's heart skip a beat.

"Snapped!"

A loud bang.

Zhou Yang slammed his hand on the table.

The cups, plates, bowls, and chopsticks on the table jumped up, and the food he had wrapped was almost thrown away. The noise in the room came to an abrupt halt, and everyone was startled by the sudden sound.

Zhou Yang slowly stood up, the smile on his face disappearing, replaced by a cold scrutiny.

He pointed at Zhao Jue in the main seat, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching everyone's ears.

"Young Master Zhao, I am extremely grateful for your invitation to dinner."

"But," he changed the subject, his voice as cold as ice, "there's poison in your food."

"You intend to murder a high-ranking official of the imperial court!"

"boom!"

The entire warm room erupted in chaos.

Zhao Jue jumped to his feet, his face ashen: "Zhou Yang! You're spouting nonsense!"

"Slanderous accusations?" Zhou Yang laughed, drawing his newly bought short knife from his waist. The blade gleamed, reflecting the candlelight in the room, casting an eerie red glow.

"I drank that bowl of lotus seed soup. Are you now waiting for me to bleed from all seven orifices and collapse dead?"

He walked step by step to the head of the table, his boots making a dull thud on the floor.

"What a pity, I'm tough. I've been through all kinds of poison since I was a child. Your 'Tethering Inducement' isn't even enough to fill my teeth."

The two guards standing next to Zhao Jue reacted quickly, immediately drawing their swords and stepping forward to stop Zhou Yang.

"How dare you! You dare to be violent in front of His Highness the Crown Prince!"

Zhou Yang didn't even glance at them.

A flash of light.

It was as fast as an illusion.

Two soft "hiss" sounds were heard.

The two guards froze. Their faces still wore fierce expressions, but a thin line of blood appeared on their throats.

Fresh blood gushed out.

They clutched their necks, making strange "hoarse" sounds in their throats, their eyes quickly dimmed, and then with two thuds, they collapsed to the ground. Blood flowed everywhere.

Screams, cries, and the sounds of tables and chairs being overturned filled the air.

Those pampered young masters had never seen such a scene before. They were so frightened that they ran out the door in a panic.

Zhao Jue was also terrified. He stared at the two still-convulsing corpses at his feet, trembling all over, his face ashen white. He pointed at Zhou Yang, his lips quivering, unable to utter a single word.

Zhou Yang's knife tip was already pressed against his throat.

The icy, bone-chilling touch made the hairs on Zhao Jue's body stand on end.

"You...you dare to kill me? I am the Crown Prince of Zhao!"

Zhou Yang gently patted his face with the back of his knife.

"I know."

His voice was calm, so calm it was frightening.

"So, you're paying for this meal."

He sheathed his knife, turned around and strolled back to his seat, picked up the two oil paper packages, and then picked up the half-empty pot of pear blossom wine.

He turned around, looked at the dazed Zhao Jue, grinned, and revealed a set of white teeth.

"Let's settle some accounts while we're at it."

"Your two guards don't look like cheap goods. A leg is worth ten thousand taels of silver. A life is worth one hundred thousand taels."

"You can calculate the total cost of your meal, including the people and the table and chairs."

"It's all settled. Send the money to the Northern Garrison of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and find Zhou Yang."

"Remember this: if you're short even a penny, the next time they come to collect the debt, it won't be a knife, it will be the guillotine."