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

The ebony token felt cold to the touch.

Zhou Yang stood on the bustling street, clutching the sign. He was still dressed as a beggar, exuding a sour, rotten smell.

A man with his hood pulled low walked up to him and handed him a worn-out raincoat.

"Put them on and come with me." The man's voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded.

Zhou Yang didn't say anything, but obediently put the raincoat on. He pulled the hat down, covering most of his face.

The two walked one after the other into a narrow alley. At the end of the alley was an inconspicuous carriage. The windows were covered with thick black cloth, so the inside could not be seen.

Zhou Yang got into the carriage, and the man followed. Then, with a "crack," the driver cracked his whip, and the carriage slowly started moving.

The carriage was dark, with only a sliver of light filtering through the gap in the curtains. The man kept his head down and remained silent.

Zhou Yang leaned against the car wall, closing his eyes to rest.

He could feel the carriage passing through bustling streets, the cobblestone path beneath its wheels gradually transforming into a bumpy dirt road. The scent of perfume in the air was replaced by a wind carrying the stench of earth and fish.

About an incense stick later, the carriage stopped.

"Get out of the car," a hoarse voice said.

Zhou Yang jumped off the carriage and found himself standing outside an abandoned winery. The winery was very tall, with large patches of plaster peeling off the walls, revealing the blue bricks underneath. A sour, rancid smell of fermented grains filled his nostrils.

The hooded man pointed to a small door in the corner of the winery, then turned and got back into the carriage, leaving without looking back.

Zhou Yang walked to the small door and knocked three times.

The door hinges creaked open a crack. A shrewd eye peered through the crack.

Zhou Yang handed over the ebony token.

The eye narrowed slightly, and the door opened completely.

"Come in."

The man who opened the door was as thin as a monkey, with a scar on his face. He led Zhou Yang through the yard, which was piled with clutter, and into the winery.

The enormous fermentation barrels were leaning precariously, covered in cobwebs. The smells in the air were even stronger: the stench of sweat, alcohol, and a faint, almost imperceptible, odor of blood.

The skinny monkey walked up to a row of huge barrels and turned the valve on one of them.

"Creak—"

The heavy stone wall slowly moved aside, revealing a dark staircase leading underground.

"Go down." The skinny monkey grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "The person in charge is waiting for you."

Zhou Yang ignored him and walked straight down.

The stairs were long and damp. Water droplets seeped from the walls, making them slippery to the touch. The deeper you went, the stronger the stench of blood became.

The space below was vast, like an underground arena. In the center was a boxing ring made of thick logs, surrounded by tiered stands. Although there weren't many people around, Zhou Yang could almost hear deafening roars and shouts of betting.

At the entrance to one of the stands stood two muscular men. Their eyes were filled with contempt when they saw Zhou Yang.

The skinny man followed and whispered a few words to the two men. Only then did one of the burly men reluctantly lift the curtain and let Zhou Yang in.

He walked through a noisy corridor lined with thugs resting on both sides. They were shirtless, their bodies covered in a mix of old and new scars. Someone saw Zhou Yang's beggar-like appearance and whistled, eliciting a burst of laughter.

Zhou Yang remained expressionless as he followed the burly man to the innermost private room.

Incense burned in the elegant room, dispelling the foul odor from outside. A middle-aged man dressed in a blue silk robe sat behind a desk, writing something with his head down. He wore a square cap, making him look like a secretary.

Hearing footsteps, he didn't even look up, and said indifferently, "Sit."

Zhou Yang sat down in the chair opposite him, his movements casual, as if he were in his own home.

After finishing the last stroke, the clerk put down his pen and blew on the ink. Only then did he raise his head and look Zhou Yang up and down.

His gaze was sharp, like a knife, scraping across Zhou Yang's face.

"You're the 'material' I was talking about?" the advisor asked, his voice calm but carrying a condescending tone.

"It depends on what you want to turn me into," Zhou Yang retorted.

The advisor's lips curled slightly, seemingly unconcerned about Zhou Yang's attitude. He picked up a steaming cup of tea from the table and pushed it towards Zhou Yang.

"Drink it."

Zhou Yang looked at the cup of tea. The tea was emerald green, with the tea leaves standing upright—it was top-quality Biluochun. But in the air, besides the aroma of the tea, there was also a very faint, sweet fragrance.

He'd seen that smell before. Fang Tian liked to use it to control his subordinates.

"What is this? Spirit tea?" Zhou Yang smiled, revealing a set of white teeth that stood out starkly against his dark, bluish face.

The advisor's gaze turned cold. "You're a smart man. A smart man knows when to bow his head."

"All I know is that when you bow your head, you're more likely to get your neck chopped off." Zhou Yang picked up his teacup, brought it to his nose, and smelled it. "This stuff isn't cheap, is it?"

"Of course it's not cheap." The advisor leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his stomach, and said, "Drink this, and you'll become my sharpest blade. The Zhao Prince's Mansion will never mistreat a good blade."

Prince Zhao's Mansion.

It really was them.

Zhou Yang understood. He said nothing more, tilted his head back, and drank the cup of tea in one gulp.

The tea tasted slightly bitter at first, then a strange warmth slid down his throat and into his stomach. The sweet aroma exploded within him, rapidly surging through his limbs and bones, attempting to take control of his meridians.

The advisor smiled with satisfaction. He stood up, walked to Zhou Yang's side, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Very good. From today onwards, you are..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

Zhou Yang suddenly raised his head.

Those murky eyes now seemed unfathomable. A terrifying aura, far surpassing the True Essence Realm, erupted from his body!

"Thump!"

The clerk was struck as if by an invisible giant hammer, flying backward and crashing into the table behind him, scattering ink, paper, and brushes all over the floor.

"You...you!" He pointed at Zhou Yang, his face full of disbelief.

Zhou Yang slowly stood up, stretched his neck, and made a series of crisp "crackling" sounds.

"The taste is good. It's just that there's too little of it; not enough to even fill a tooth gap."

The Corpse Transformation Divine Art within his body circulated wildly. The medicinal power not only failed to control him, but instead seemed like nourishment delivered to his doorstep, instantly devouring him completely. Along with it, a trace of the dormant lifespan in his dantian was also activated.

"Guards! Guards!" the advisor screamed in terror.

The curtain outside the private room was suddenly flung open, and the two muscular men and seven or eight thugs from the corridor rushed in. They were stunned at first when they saw the scene inside, but then their menacing expressions were revealed.

"You're asking for death!" a burly man roared, his iron-like fist aimed straight at Zhou Yang's face.

Zhou Yang didn't even glance at it.

He simply extended his right hand and gently shook hands with the burly man at the front.

"Buzz—"

An invisible suction force erupted.

The burly man froze instantly, his ferocity quickly replaced by terror. He felt his blood, strength, and vitality gushing from his pores, rushing towards the dark-faced beggar.

His body shriveled up at a visible rate, his skin lost its luster, his muscles atrophied, and he finally became a skin-covered dried-up human body, lying limply on the ground.

The whole process took only two or three breaths.

Everyone else stopped in their tracks.

They watched helplessly as their companion turned into a dried-up corpse, their minds completely blank.

What kind of sorcery is this?

Zhou Yang's gaze swept over them as if he were looking at a group of dead people.

"Perfect timing, I've been using up a lot of energy lately, consider this a way to replenish your nutrition."

His figure blurred, and he rushed into the crowd like a ghost.

There were no screams, no struggle.

There was only a series of muffled thuds as bodies withered and fell to the ground. In just over ten seconds, the seven or eight thugs who had rushed in, along with the two burly men guarding the gate, had all turned into dried-up corpses.

The elegant room was deathly silent.

A faint smell of burning filled the air, the smell left after one's vital energy had been forcibly drained.

Zhou Yang stood amidst a pile of dried corpses, his bluish-black face expressionless. He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, feeling his body become much fuller.

He turned to the clerk slumped in the corner and walked over step by step.

"Now, we can have a proper talk."

The clerk trembled violently, his crotch soaked with sweat. He looked at Zhou Yang, his eyes filled with nothing but pure fear.

"Who...who exactly are you?"

"He's here to collect debts." Zhou Yang squatted down to be at eye level with the clerk. "I'll ask, you answer. If you mispronounce a single word, I'll make you end up like them."

He pointed to the dried corpse on the ground.

"What does the King of Zhao want with you?"

"For...for the Dragon Spine Fragment..." The advisor's teeth chattered, and he could barely speak.

"Be more specific."

"Your Highness... Your Highness also obtained a fragment. But that fragment is incomplete, and he wants to find the other fragments to piece it together completely."

"Where is he now? Is there any clue about the second fragment?" Zhou Yang pressed.

"There's...there's a lead." The advisor's voice trembled with tears. "His Highness has learned that the second fragment...is in the hands of an organization in the south called the 'Four Seas Merchants Association.' His Highness has already sent people to negotiate."

Sihai Chamber of Commerce...

Zhou Yang wrote down the name.

"Are you in charge of this underground boxing ring?"

"Yes...it was my responsibility. To train assassins for Your Highness, and...to amass wealth as well."

"Where's the money?"

The clerk immediately understood Zhou Yang's meaning, and a glint of survival flashed in his eyes. He scrambled to his feet, ran to the wall, took down a landscape painting, and revealed a hidden compartment behind it.

"It's all here! Take it all, sir! Please spare my life!"

Inside the hidden compartment was an iron box. Zhou Yang opened it and found stacks of silver notes, several gold bars of varying sizes, and some jewelry and jade artifacts. A rough estimate put the value at no less than 100,000 taels.

"You're smart to know what's good for you." Zhou Yang put the iron box into his pocket.

"My lord, please spare me! I swear, I will never tell anyone what happened today!" The clerk kowtowed repeatedly.

Zhou Yang looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"You're right. Dead people really don't tell anyone."

The advisor's smile froze on his face.

Zhou Yang twitched his fingers slightly, and a burst of energy entered the man's brow. The advisor's body stiffened, his eyes instantly glazed over, and he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Zhou Yang stood up and looked around.

He walked to the table, broke the wolf-hair brush in half, and threw it into the brazier. Then, he took a small stone from his pocket and carved a line of words on the wall.

"Act on behalf of Heaven and punish the bandit leader."

After doing all this, he went outside the private room and used an oil lamp on the table to light the heavy curtains.

The flames spread rapidly, licking the dry wood.

Zhou Yang turned around and retraced his steps. He walked past the empty boxing ring, up the damp steps, and back to the ground floor of the distillery.

Thick smoke was already rising from underground.

He mingled among the crowd who had risen at the sound of the fire, watching as the abandoned distillery was consumed by flames.

The firelight illuminated his dark blue face, and his eyes remained expressionless.

An underground boxing ring, a windfall, and a piece of useful intelligence.

This deal is a good one.

Just as he was about to leave, a system notification suddenly sounded in his mind.

[Ding! Host's lifespan reserves are sufficient; the energy requirements for breaking through to the late stage of the "True Essence Realm" have been met.]

[Should I consume my lifespan to break through?]

Zhou Yang stopped in his tracks.

He checked his internal energy. After absorbing the thugs' energy, combined with what he had accumulated before, his lifespan reserves were already quite considerable.

Late stage of True Essence Realm.

We've taken another step closer to a higher level.

He looked up at the moon. The moonlight was bright, like a large ingot of silver.

He thought it was time to meet that merchant from the south.