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

The atmosphere outside the courtyard gate was as cold as if it were frozen.

Zhang Hu and his two companions stood frozen in place, their knuckles white from gripping the handles of their swords so tightly they were almost white. Seeing Zhou Yang's nonchalant demeanor, the initial contempt in Zhang Hu's eyes gradually turned into impatience.

In his view, this young man was nothing more than a glib opportunist. Commander Chen instructed him to arrest the man; all he needed to do was pin him to the ground, search him, and then drag him away.

"Zhou Yang, haven't you figured out the situation yet?" Zhang Hu took a step forward, his heavy boots making a dull thud on the bluestone slabs. He lowered his head slightly, scanning Zhou Yang with the look of someone inspecting merchandise. "Commander Chen wants you to go back. If you obediently come with us now, you can still save some face. If you insist on us taking action, even if you become a dead dog, no one will care."

Zhou Yang didn't move, remaining leaning against the doorframe. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on Zhang Hu's chest for a moment, before a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Decent?" Zhou Yang repeated the word softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Talking about decentness in a place like this, aren't you Imperial Guards being a bit too extravagant?"

Zhang Hu was enraged by this attitude. In the eyes of a captain of his rank, such an arrogant and servile expression was the most irritating thing. He snorted coldly, his right hand slammed down on the hilt of his sword, his body lowered, and a murderous aura belonging to a martial artist suddenly exploded out.

"You're asking for it."

Zhang Hu let out a low shout, his figure moving with lightning speed. He suddenly exerted force with his right arm, delivering a heavy palm strike directly to Zhou Yang's shoulder. This palm strike brought with it a gust of wind, scattering several withered leaves on the ground.

The two young men around him instinctively took a half step back, their eyes filled with anticipation. In their view, Zhou Yang, looking completely unprepared, would probably be sprawled on the ground before he even had a chance to scream.

However, the expected collision did not occur.

Zhou Yang's body seemed to vanish in that instant, or as if it had melted directly into the air. Zhang Hu's palm strike passed through a phantom image, and due to the immense force, his body involuntarily staggered forward half a step.

Zhang Hu's heart skipped a beat, and shock instantly overwhelmed his anger. He turned around abruptly, only to find that Zhou Yang hadn't gone far at all, still standing in the same spot, only his eyes had changed.

Those eyes were no longer lazy; instead, they revealed a bottomless darkness, like a dry well, or like a sleeping giant suddenly opening its eyes.

Zhou Yang let out a soft breath.

In that instant, an indescribable sense of heaviness exploded from Zhou Yang's body without warning.

This wasn't a simple fluctuation of internal energy; it was a suppression stemming from biological instinct. The air thickened at that moment, as if someone had poured a thick layer of glue around them, making each breath exceptionally difficult.

"boom--"

Zhang Hu felt a deep dragon's roar resounding deep within his mind. The sound wasn't loud, but it struck directly into the depths of his soul, making the hairs on his body stand on end instantly.

He felt an irresistible force crashing down on him, like an invisible mountain collapsing in an instant.

"Thump!"

The two young flag bearers didn't even realize what was happening before their knees slammed onto the flagstones as if struck by a heavy hammer. Their eyes widened in terror, and they tried to speak, but found their throats gripped tightly by an invisible hand, only able to gag.

Zhang Hu was slightly better, but his face turned deathly pale in that instant. He braced himself on his knees, veins bulging on his forehead, his jaw clenched, and his body trembled violently from the intense resistance.

This feeling is terrifying.

He had worked in the industry for many years and had seen many experts, but he had never experienced this kind of despair of being looked down upon by someone in an absolute superior position. At this moment, in his eyes, the young man in front of him was no longer a scholar in a blue robe, but a ferocious beast that stood tall and imposing, scrutinizing an ant with indifferent eyes.

"Is this what you call a 'show of force'?"

Zhou Yang's voice was eerily calm, making it exceptionally clear in the deathly silent courtyard.

Zhang Hu's chest heaved violently, cold sweat dripping incessantly down his face. He wanted to draw his sword; his subconscious told him that if he could just swing that blade, he might be able to break this eerie oppression.

However, the moment his fingers touched the hilt of the sword, the power called [Dragon's Might] suddenly locked onto him.

Zhang Hu felt his body stiffen instantly, as if it had turned into some kind of hard stone. He could feel his heart pounding wildly, but every muscle in his body was out of control. He remained kneeling there, looking like a comical statue, trembling in front of Zhou Yang.

The two small flags around them had completely collapsed. They no longer tried to stand up, but instead lay slumped on the ground, their eyes unfocused. Due to excessive fear, there were even wet stains seeping from their trouser legs.

As Zhou Yang looked at the three people, the smile in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by pure annoyance.

He disliked this inefficient probing and hated even more the idea of ​​being blocked at the door by some self-righteous lackeys.

"Go back and tell Commander Chen."

Zhou Yang took a step forward, and the sound of his boots hitting the stone slabs sounded to Zhang Hu like the footsteps of death.

Zhou Yang leaned down and whispered in Zhang Hu's ear, "Next time you want to take my men, remember to bring a few more. Otherwise, my yard is too small to bury too many corpses."

As he finished speaking, Zhou Yang slowly suppressed his aura.

That oppressive, heavy feeling vanished instantly.

Zhang Hu seemed to have all his strength drained away. He lunged forward and landed heavily on the ground, greedily inhaling the fresh air. He coughed violently, his body trembling with each cough.

He dared not look back at Zhou Yang; only one thought remained in his mind: escape quickly.

"roll."

Zhou Yang uttered a single word lightly from behind.

These words, though lacking in power, acted like a starting pistol.

Zhang Hu was jolted awake almost reflexively. He scrambled to his feet, completely disregarding his dignity as a captain, grabbed two small flags from the ground, and rushed out of the courtyard gate.

As he was leaving, Zhang Hu vomited violently by the roadside.

Zhang Hu didn't stop until he had run quite a distance and heard the noise of the street. He was panting heavily. He looked down at his hands and found that his fingertips were still trembling slightly.

That agonizing fear, even after he left that courtyard, remained deeply etched into his very bones.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yang had already returned to the house.

He walked to the table, picked up a white porcelain cup, and took a small sip of the cooled tea. His eyes regained their usual languidness, but a deeper meaning appeared in his gaze as he looked out the window.

This outburst was not only a demonstration of his authority, but also a practical test of the dragon-like corpse within him.

The pressure was stronger than he had imagined.

He put down his teacup, his fingers lightly tapping the table as he began to calculate. Upon learning of this, Commander Chen's reaction would likely fall into one of two categories: either fear or an even more frantic dread.

Regardless of the type, as long as the price is high enough, it represents an opportunity for him.

Zhou Yang leaned back in his chair, watching the sunlight outside the window being obscured by clouds, and the courtyard returned to deathly silence, with only the occasional chirping of birds.

He closed his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips.