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

The moment the Locking Yuan Formation was activated, the air on the stone platform seemed to solidify into glue.

As the three Zhenwu Guard members were about to leap, their internal energy suddenly became blocked in their dantian. Their meridians felt as if they were filled with fine sand, and each movement was accompanied by a needle-like stinging pain. The young member on the far left turned red in the face, staggered, and his long sword clattered against the bluestone.

"Formation!"

The hook-nosed captain roared. He was the most skilled of the three, having already achieved minor mastery of innate qi. Although he felt sluggish at the moment, he could still barely maintain his qi to protect his body. His gaze was like lightning, instantly locking onto the array eye in the southeast corner of the stone platform—where a dark red array plate was embedded, gleaming with an eerie light.

The blade is drawn.

Without hesitation, the captain leaped into the air, his blade flashing like a rainbow, slashing straight at the array plate. This strike concentrated all his power; even before the blade arrived, the fierce wind had already whipped up the rubble on the ground.

Just as the blade was about to touch the array plate.

In the shadows at the edge of the stone platform, a dark red shadow swayed gently.

That wasn't an afterimage.

It was more like some kind of liquid, viscous blood-red light, drawing an irregular zigzag line in the air. There was no sound of wind breaking, no disturbance of airflow, only a sudden, intense smell of blood, like opening a wine jar that had been buried for many years.

The captain's sword missed its mark.

The array plate was intact. He turned his head sharply, his pupils contracting suddenly.

The young team member on the left was still bent over, picking up the knife. His expression was frozen, a stiffness mixed with confusion and bewilderment. A dark red hand was protruding from his back.

The palm had no physical form.

Or rather, it was formed from pure blood and qi, with long, slender fingers whose tips gleamed with a cold, metallic light. The young team member's chest shrank visibly, his skin clinging to his bones, his eye sockets sunken, and his eyeballs bulging as if they were about to fall out. He opened his mouth, making gurgling sounds in his throat, but couldn't even manage a complete scream.

Blood flowed backward from that dark red palm.

At the edge of the stone platform, Zhou Yang's figure solidified. His eyes were closed, his Adam's apple bobbing as if savoring a fine vintage wine. A warm current suddenly surged into the dried-up pool of lifespan within his body. A system notification flashed in the depths of his consciousness, but he was too lazy to look at it. The feeling of gaining five years of lifespan was more wonderful than he had imagined.

"A monster..."

The remaining Zhenwu Guard collapsed in despair. He was a martial artist at the early stage of the Innate Realm, and he was used to risking his life, but he had never seen such a bizarre way of dying. His colleague was just three steps away from him, and in the blink of an eye, he had turned into a dried-up corpse. Terror still lingered on his withered face, and his skin was a deathly bluish-gray.

He turned and ran.

His suppressed internal energy burned wildly, and he even resorted to forbidden techniques to forcibly break through the blockage in his meridians. His figure shot out like an arrow, heading towards the gap on the other side of the stone platform. That was the weak point of the Yuan-Locking Array; if he could break through, he could survive!

The blood shadow flickered again.

This time, Zhou Yang didn't even open his eyes.

The fleeing Zhenwu Guard had just leaped half a zhang into the air when he suddenly froze. His limbs were strangely spread out, as if nailed to the air by invisible nails. Dark red blood emanated from his chest, but there was no splatter of blood, only a sickening sucking sound.

Like an ice block under the scorching sun, the team member's body rapidly withered.

His clothes hung loosely on his frame, his hair was disheveled, and dry strands danced in the wind. His fingers were still in a grasping position, dirt embedded in his fingernails—the last struggle of his survival instinct.

[Lifespan +5 year]

Zhou Yang opened his eyes and gently exhaled a breath of stale air. This breath carried a faint rusty smell, condensing into white mist in the cold air. He moved his wrists, his knuckles cracking slightly. The Blood Shadow Escape technique had consumed more energy than he had anticipated, but the rewards were equally plentiful.

On the stone platform, only the hook-nosed captain remained standing.

The captain's hands were trembling.

His hand holding the knife was steady, never trembling in ten years. But now, the rope binding the hilt was soaked with cold sweat, sticking stickily to his palm. He looked at the two desiccated corpses, at his two subordinates who had been so lively just moments before, now piled on the ground like tattered sacks.

"Blood corpse..."

The captain's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against wood. He took a half step back, his boot sinking into a pebble with a soft cracking sound. The sound was particularly jarring on the deathly silent stone platform.

Zhou Yang did not move.

He stood there, a thin layer of blood mist surrounding him. The mist wasn't thick, but it had a nauseating, sweet-smelling odor. Moonlight shone through the crack above the stone platform, casting his long, distorted shadow on the rock wall, making him look like a ferocious beast with its fangs bared.

The captain took another step back.

He bit his tongue hard, the sharp pain momentarily clearing his muddled thoughts. His right hand reached into his robes and pulled out a bronze token. The token was engraved with the eagle emblem of the Zhenwu Guard, and the back bore runes for an emergency request for help.

"A blood zombie! A mutated blood zombie!"

He roared these words with all his might, and at the same time hurled the token into the air. The token exploded in mid-air, turning into a crimson column of smoke that shot into the sky, clearly visible even ten miles away.

After doing all this, the captain felt as if all his energy had been drained away in an instant.

He knelt on one knee, his long sword resting on the ground, and looked up at Zhou Yang. Fear finally surfaced in his hawk-like eyes, but even more so, a ruthless determination to go all out.

"You're not a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard..."

The captain, panting heavily, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, said, "You're Fang Tian's successor... right? That old bastard's Blood Escape Technique, I never thought he'd actually mastered it..."

Zhou Yang finally spoke.

His voice was soft, carrying a hint of languor from having just absorbed enough blood: "Good eye."

Before the words were finished, the blood-red shadow flashed again.

The captain roared, sweeping his longsword horizontally, creating a dense, impenetrable net of blades in front of him. His innate inner energy erupted without reservation, forming a thick wall of energy around him. This was his ultimate survival technique, which had once blocked a fatal blow from a master of the same level.

Blood Shadow did not charge in.

It circled around, like a predator toying with a trapped beast, and slashed in from the left. The captain frantically changed his attack, his blade slicing through the air with a piercing whistle. But he only struck the air.

A cold hand landed on his shoulder.

The captain froze. He slowly turned his head and saw Zhou Yang's face, inches away. There was no ferocity, no murderous intent on that face, only a chilling calm, as if he were looking at a piece of merchandise awaiting valuation.

"Your internal energy is very refined."

Zhou Yang's voice rang close to his ear: "It should be worth quite a few lifespans."

The captain wanted to retaliate. He wanted to draw his sword, to circulate his inner energy, to take everyone down with him. But he found he couldn't. The hand resting on his shoulder felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and even more terrifying, a strange suction force was emanating from the point of contact. His innate inner energy, cultivated diligently for thirty years, surged wildly towards that palm like a flood bursting its banks.

The speed at which the Qi flowed was so fast that it produced a strange sense of pleasure.

The captain's eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and his vision began to blur. In his last moments of consciousness, he saw a white figure emerge from the shadows of the stone platform. It was Qin Shuang; she covered her lips, her face pale, and was looking at him with an extremely complex expression.

It turns out there was more than one...

This was the captain's last thought.

Zhou Yang released his grip, letting the dried corpse fall to the ground. He looked up at the still-lingering plume of smoke signaling for help and narrowed his eyes. In the distance, he could faintly hear the sound of clothes rustling through the air; at least seven or eight figures were rapidly approaching.

"They arrived quite quickly."

He shook his hand, dispersing the remaining blood from his fingertips, and turned to look at Qin Shuang: "Are you scared?"

Qin Shuang lowered her hand and remained silent. She walked to the captain's corpse, bent down, picked up the still-warm token, and handed it to Zhou Yang.

"What's next?"

Zhou Yang took the token, weighed it in his hand, and suddenly smiled. The smile, illuminated by the blood moon, appeared particularly chilling.

"What's next?"

He crushed the token, and the broken copper pieces fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

"Of course, we'll wait for them to come over and then continue negotiating the price."