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

The supervisor watched him quietly.

Those calm, still eyes held no emotion.

It was as if the laughing young man before him was no different from a fallen leaf in his palm.

The wind at the top of the observatory had gotten a bit colder.

The wind blew, making Zhou Yang's thin prison uniform flutter.

He stopped laughing, slowly and deliberately tucked the "Qingnang Xuming Pian" into his pocket.

It was as if what was stuffed inside wasn't some secret manual to defy fate, but rather a freshly baked pancake.

Then he looked around.

His gaze swept over the collapsed stone pillars and scattered scrolls, finally settling on a section of stone steps that was still relatively intact.

Zhou Yang walked over, casually patted off the dust, and plopped down on the floor.

This action instantly made the atmosphere on the top of the observatory somewhat strange.

This is not a teahouse or tavern.

This is the pinnacle of power, a place where the lives and deaths of countless people are decided.

The supervisor did not move and remained standing in the same spot.

Zhou Yang looked up at him, a smug smile on his face.

"Sir, please sit down without being invited. Don't mind."

He patted the ancient book in his arms.

"Since it's a transaction, you have to inspect the goods beforehand. Don't you agree?"

The corner of the supervisor's mouth seemed to twitch slightly.

The curve is so small that it is almost imperceptible unless you look closely.

He extended his hand, making a "please" gesture.

Zhou Yang nodded and said no more.

He carefully took out the ancient book.

The cover is made of an unknown animal hide. It feels cool and tough to the touch. There are no words on it, only some strange patterns, like the texture of natural leather.

He turned to the first page.

A smell mixed with dust and stale herbs wafted over and hit my nostrils.

The smell was strange; it wasn't foul, but it made your chest feel stuffy.

The pages are very thin, neither paper nor silk, but more like the leaves of some kind of plant, made through special processing.

I don't recognize any of the characters on it.

It is neither seal script nor clerical script, but a twisted, snake-like ancient script.

There's a sinister aura about the strokes.

Zhou Yang's face revealed nothing.

He simply flipped through the pages, one by one.

He flipped through the pages quickly, his gaze merely sweeping over them without lingering.

It's like reading a trivial, unimportant book.

The supervisor's gaze remained fixed on his hands.

The air seemed to freeze.

Apart from the sound of the wind, the only other sound was the rustling of pages turning.

Zhou Yang turned to the last page.

There was only a broken pattern on it.

It resembles a turtle's shell, covered with cracks, but the center of the shell is blank.

The book ends here.

It's only a thin book of a dozen pages.

He closed the book.

He did not speak immediately.

He lowered his head, looking at the ancient patterns on the cover, his fingers gently stroking them.

The supervisor did not urge them.

He has plenty of patience.

A long time passed.

Zhou Yang raised his head.

His eyes were calm.

He was much calmer than when he was laughing loudly earlier.

But beneath that calm, something seemed to be hidden.

Like a bottomless lake.

"Sir," Zhou Yang spoke, his voice soft but clear, "your deposit seems a bit inflated."

This is questioning.

A prisoner questioned a man standing high above the clouds.

The supervisor's eyebrows finally twitched very slightly.

This was his first real emotional outburst of the night.

"Oh?" He only said one word.

The sound showed no change whatsoever.

"The book is real," Zhou Yang said. "I'm sure its value goes far beyond the life of a mere Jinyiwei centurion. It can extend life, though the method is wicked, it's truly effective. Moreover, it records in detail how to 'borrow' the lifespan of others to fill one's own deficiencies. It even mentions a more sophisticated method of 'grafting'."

He paused, then changed the subject.

"However, it is incomplete."

Zhou Yang tapped the center of the cover with his finger.

"This book is more like an instruction manual. It tells you what this thing is, what it's used for, and even lists a few uses. But the most crucial part is missing."

He raised his eyes and looked directly at the supervisor.

"For example, what qualifications are needed for the so-called 'grafting'? What are the taboos? What are the requirements for the 'borrowed' lifespan? Is the skull covered or not? Is the person fat or thin? Is the person a man or a woman? None of these are written in the book."

"The incomplete part is on that tortoise shell pattern." Zhou Yang's tone was calm, but every word was piercing. "What you gave me is a medical book that only talks about the 'introduction' but doesn't provide the 'prescription.' Old sir, this is not a very ethical business deal."

He didn't say how he knew.

He couldn't possibly understand those ancient characters.

But he just knew.

This conviction is more powerful than any explanation.

The supervisor remained silent.

He looked at Zhou Yang as if he were seeing him for the first time.

There was no fear, no greed, and not even pride in the young man's eyes.

There is only one kind of shrewdness and composure that belongs to a businessman.

It's like in a vegetable market, a skilled butcher can hold a piece of meat and accurately tell you how much tendon, how much fat, and how much lean meat it contains.

Zhou Yang put the book back into his pocket and stood up.

He dusted himself off and walked back to the front of the prison cell.

The distance between the two was now only three feet.

"Supervisor, let me guess," Zhou Yang lowered his voice, "You brought me here not simply to find a successor or a henchman. You're in trouble. A trouble you can only solve by staying alive. And what you lack isn't this 'Qing Nang Xu Ming Pian' (The Book of Life Extension), what you lack is someone who can complete it and use it effectively."

He smiled slightly.

"And I happen to be that person."

A strange light finally flashed in the eyes of the supervisor.

That was surprise at having one's thoughts read, and a hint of...appreciation?

"In that case, we need to renegotiate the terms of this deal." Zhou Yang spread his hands, looking completely matter-of-fact. "I've accepted your deposit. But a deposit alone isn't enough; a portion of the construction cost needs to be prepaid."

"What do you want?" the supervisor asked.

This was the first time he had asked Zhou Yang what he wanted.

It's not a threat, not an exchange, but a question.

"I want two things," Zhou Yang said, holding up two fingers.

"First, I want all the strongholds, spies, personnel, and survivors of the Heavenly Principle Sect in Anyang County and the surrounding three prefectures. Leave them all behind. I want their lair as clear as the lines on my palm."

The supervisor's gaze remained unchanged.

This thing might be easily within his grasp.

"Secondly," Zhou Yang's smile turned somewhat playful, "who exactly is backing Commander Chen? Which of those seemingly loyal old men in Anyang Guard listen to the Emperor, and which listen to other princely mansions? I want that list too. I want to know who on the shore wanted to drown me when I fell into the water, and who wanted to hand me a rope."

What he wants is no longer resources for self-preservation.

What he needs is intelligence for proactive attacks.

What he wanted was a knife that could completely churn up the mess in the entire Anyang Prefecture.

The supervisor looked at him and remained silent for a long time.

The wind at the top of the observatory made their clothes flutter.

One stands in the darkness, the other stands under the starlight.

It's like two chess players facing off, deciding on their final move.

for a long time.

The supervisor slowly opened his mouth.

"Information about the Heavenly Principle Sect will be delivered to you within three days."

"As for the people of Anyang Guard... that's not a line I can easily cross. Giving you the list is tantamount to asking me to overturn the table for you."

"Then you'll have no choice but to touch it," Zhou Yang interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for argument. "My life is now tied to this lousy book of yours. If I die, or get caught and hand it over, tell me... how many people would be interested in it? At that point, you, the Supervising Official, probably won't be able to sit still, will you?"

This is a blatant threat.

A prisoner is threatening an old man in power.

Strangely, this threat did not sound harsh to the supervisor.

Because he knew that Zhou Yang was right.

They're already in the same boat.

This ship is heading into an unknown storm.

For the first time, a genuine smile appeared on the face of the supervisor.

The smile was faint, yet it dispelled all the coldness and majesty about him.

"You... remind me of myself when I was young."

He shook his head.

"Okay. I'll give you the list of An-Yang-Wei within a week."

Zhou Yang was satisfied.

He bowed slightly, performing a polite greeting.

"It's a pleasure working with you, Your Excellency."

After saying that, he didn't linger, turned around and walked back the way he came.

His back was ramrod straight.

Every step we took was exceptionally firm.

The supervisor watched his retreating figure disappear into the dark entrance of the passage.

A night breeze blew, lifting a tattered page from the ground, which spun in the air before slowly falling back down.

"Price increase..."

He repeated those two words in a low voice, the smile in his eyes deepening.

"In this game, at least there's an opponent who can keep up with the pace."