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

Zhou Yang's footsteps landed on the stone slabs with a crisp sound.

He didn't turn around.

The heavy stone door behind him closed silently, like two gaping maws, clamping shut perfectly. Darkness surged in from all directions, swallowing the narrow passage in the blink of an eye.

The smile on Zhou Yang's lips hadn't even faded before it froze on his face.

He stopped and squinted ahead. The exit of the passage, which had been faintly visible just moments before, had vanished, replaced by a thick stone wall. The surface of the stone wall was covered with fine patterns, like some kind of ancient runes, gleaming with a cold, eerie light in the darkness.

"This is……"

Zhou Yang's pupils contracted slightly. He didn't panic, but subconsciously reached for his waist, where three copper coins were hidden—his last resort for survival.

"Your Excellency, what does this mean?"

His voice was very steady, without any discernible emotion.

But only deathly silence answered him.

The air in the passage became thin, and each breath felt like a tearing motion in his lungs. It was an invisible pressure, as if an entire mountain was pressing down on his chest.

Then, the supervisor's voice rang out.

"Transaction complete."

The sound came from all directions, its location indistinguishable, and echoed back and forth in the empty passageway.

"But you'll need to retrieve the goods yourself."

Zhou Yang frowned and pinched the edge of the copper coin with his fingers.

"My friend, don't let me down."

The moment the words left his mouth, the stone slab beneath Zhou Yang's feet began to tremble. It wasn't the violent shaking of an earthquake, but a slow, continuous ascent. He could feel himself being lifted by some invisible force, rising higher and higher.

The darkness overhead was gradually torn apart, revealing a corner of pale light.

The light grew brighter and more blinding, forcing Zhou Yang to squint and shield his eyes with his hand above his brow. When his vision finally adjusted to the sudden light, the sight before him made him gasp for breath.

He was standing on a circular stone platform. The platform was no more than three zhang in diameter, and all around it was a bottomless void, dark and thick, like ink that could not be dissolved. And above him—above him was a huge dome. The dome was so high that it was almost impossible to see the edge, and it was inlaid with countless luminous stones, like stars nailed to the night sky.

No, it's not a stone.

Zhou Yang saw it clearly.

Those are eyes.

Hundreds of eyes, varying in size and color, all gazed down at him from the same angle. Those eyes had no pupils, only a hazy gray-white, like the last trace of a long-dead corpse. They were motionless, yet seemed to be watching something distant.

"What...what kind of place is this?"

Zhou Yang's throat was dry. He quickly looked around, trying to find anything he could grab onto or hide in. But there was nothing. The stone platform was as smooth as a mirror, without even a crack. He felt like he had been placed on a giant target, with nowhere to escape.

"Supervisor."

Zhou Yang took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"I think we need to talk."

no respond.

But the eyes moved. They began to slowly rotate, as if some ancient mechanism had been activated. With each rotation, a faint beam of light shot out from the eyes and landed on the stone platform. The beams intertwined on the surface of the platform, gradually forming a complex pattern.

Zhou Yang stared at the pattern for a few moments, then his expression turned grim.

He recognized it. It was a trapping array, a "spirit-locking array" used to trap high-level martial artists. Once trapped within it, the true energy within the body would stagnate, making its circulation extremely difficult.

"interesting."

Zhou Yang sneered, then simply sat down cross-legged, placing his hands on his knees, his posture as relaxed as if he were sunbathing in his own backyard.

"You, Supervisor, went to such lengths just to trap a mere Imperial Guard captain like me? You really think too highly of me."

As soon as the words were spoken, a ripple suddenly appeared in the void on the other side of the stone platform. The ripple was like a mirror being shattered, with countless fragments flying in all directions. From among those fragments, a figure emerged.

It was an old man.

He wore a gray robe, his hair was gray, and the wrinkles on his face resembled a dried-up riverbed, each line etched with the marks of time. But his eyes were bright, as bright as two burning embers, with a deep blue light dancing in the depths of his gray pupils.

Zhou Yang.

The old man spoke, and his voice was exactly the same as the one of the supervisor from before.

"You shouldn't threaten me."

Zhou Yang's pupils suddenly contracted, and the force with which he gripped the copper coin increased abruptly, causing a sharp pain in his fingertips.

"You're the supervisor?"

The old man didn't answer, but slowly raised his right hand. His hand was thin, with distinct knuckles, and faint blue veins were visible beneath the skin. But it was this very hand that made Zhou Yang feel an unprecedented pressure. That pressure came from a deeper fear, like an ant suddenly finding itself standing at the feet of an elephant.

"You're very clever, so clever that I'm almost reluctant to kill you."

The old man said, "But you're also stupid, stupid enough to think you can bind me with a piece of paper."

Zhou Yang's lips twitched. He admitted that he had indeed been somewhat overconfident. Who could have imagined that this so-called "supervisor" was actually a monster in human skin?

"So," Zhou Yang slowly stood up, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, ready to strike at any moment, "in this transaction, did I lose, or did you profit?"

The old man smiled, a faint smile that sent a chill down Zhou Yang's spine.

"That depends on you," the old man said. "The *Qingnang Xuming Pian* is right under this stone platform. If you can retrieve it, it's yours. If you can't…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was already quite clear.

Zhou Yang's gaze fell on the stone platform beneath his feet. The surface was as smooth as a mirror, without a single crack. But he knew the supervisor wouldn't lie about something like this; it was pointless.

How do I get it?

"With your life."

The old man raised his finger and gently tapped Zhou Yang's chest. "This book requires a specific person to open. And that person must possess one thing."

"What is that?"

"Fragments of the dragon's spine."

Zhou Yang's breath hitched, and his heart skipped a beat.

A fragment of a dragon's spine. He did indeed possess it, and it was within his body, the only piece of "luggage" he brought with him when he transmigrated. It was a bone fragment the size of a fingernail, said to be a fragment of the spine of an ancient divine dragon, containing boundless power. It was this fragment that granted him the ability to "burn through his lifespan."

Did the supervisor know about this?

No, that's not right. Zhou Yang quickly realized that the supervisor didn't know he was just testing him, trying to see if he really had that thing. If he showed any unusual behavior, it would be tantamount to admitting it.

"A fragment of a dragon's spine?" Zhou Yang frowned, feigning confusion. "What is that? I've never heard of it before."

The old man's gaze lingered on Zhou Yang's face for a long time, so long that Zhou Yang almost thought he had been exposed. Then, the old man looked away.

"You don't have it," the old man said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "That's right, that thing has been lost for years; how could it possibly be on a mere captain?"

Zhou Yang felt a little relieved. But the next second, his heart tightened again.

"However..." the old man's gaze returned to him, "you possess something else, something I need."

Zhou Yang's back tensed instantly.

"What?"

"Your blood," the old man said, "The seal on the *Qingnang Xuming Pian* requires a special bloodline to open. And you... happen to be that person."

Zhou Yang was stunned. His own blood? What did that mean?

He looked down at his palm; the lines on his palm were crisscrossed, but there was nothing particularly special about them.

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"You don't need to understand," the old man shook his head. "You only need to do one thing."

"What?"

"Drip your blood onto this stone. Just one drop will suffice."

Zhou Yang fell silent. His mind raced. Was the Supervisor's word true or false? If true, what would happen after he dripped his blood? Would he obtain the "Qing Nang Xu Ming Pian" (a medical text), or would his blood be drained? If false, what was the Supervisor's purpose?

Too much uncertainty.

But Zhou Yang knew he had no choice. He was trapped on this stone platform, surrounded by a bottomless void, with a dome above him composed of countless eerie eyes. The only way out was to do as the supervisor instructed.

or……

Zhou Yang's gaze fell on the old man. He realized something. Although the old man was powerful, he seemed to have no physical form. His figure was somewhat illusory, like a projection or a phantom. This meant that he couldn't directly attack him, but could only force him to submit through some means.

"Okay." Zhou Yang nodded. "I'll trust you this once."

He raised his right hand and lightly drew a line on the index finger of his left hand. A drop of blood welled up and fell onto the stone platform.

A drop of blood landed on the stone platform with a soft "hiss." Then, the surface of the platform began to change. The smooth stone slabs gradually became transparent, revealing what lay hidden beneath.

It was a huge pool. The pool was filled with a dark red liquid, exuding a nauseating, bloody stench. And in the center of the liquid, floated a book. The book was thin, its cover tattered, its edges curled, and it looked utterly unremarkable. But when Zhou Yang's gaze fell upon the book, he felt a pang of unease. His heart began to race, his blood surged through his veins, and the fragment of the dragon's spine within him began to tremble slightly.

That is the "Qing Nang Xu Ming Pian".

"Go and get it," the old man's voice rang in my ears. "Remember, you have three chances. After three attempts, if you still can't retrieve it, you'll stay here forever."

Zhou Yang frowned. What did "three chances" mean? The thing was right there; couldn't he just pick it up?

Without further hesitation, he leaped into the pool. The liquid reached his ankles, icy cold, like stepping into water formed from millennia-old ice. He walked forward step by step, each step extremely difficult. The liquid offered immense resistance, as if he were filled with lead.

But he gritted his teeth and walked up to the book.

He reached out and grasped the spine of the book.

Then--

A sharp pain shot through his palm, as if it were tearing it apart, causing his entire arm to tremble. Zhou Yang gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound. He pulled hard, but the book didn't budge, as if it were embedded in the liquid.

"Once." The old man's voice rang out from above, tinged with a hint of mockery.

Zhou Yang's face darkened. He released his grip, took a step back, and took a deep breath. Then, he made an unexpected move. He drew the short knife from his waist. The blade gleamed coldly in the dim light. Without hesitation, he plunged the blade into the bottom of the liquid and began digging around the book.

"You…" there was a hint of surprise in the old man's voice, "What are you doing?"

Zhou Yang ignored him. He focused solely on his work, cutting downwards with each stroke. The bottom of the liquid seemed to be some kind of soft substance; the blade felt sticky when it cut into it. But he was serious. If he couldn't remove it, he'd dig out the base as well.

"Twice." The old man's voice rang out again.

Zhou Yang paused for a moment. He looked up at the eerie eyes above him.

"You set the rules, but you didn't say that tools couldn't be used."

The old man was silent for a moment. Then he laughed, a laugh that echoed in the vast space, carrying a hint of approval and a touch of anticipation.

"Interesting, you are indeed very clever. But you underestimate this book."

The words had barely left his mouth when the short knife in Zhou Yang's hand suddenly snapped. The blade shattered into countless fragments, scattering in all directions. Zhou Yang instinctively took a step back, avoiding the shards. But the next second, he found his foot entangled in something. He looked down and saw it was the liquid. It began to flow, forming long, thin tentacles that wrapped around his ankle. Moreover, these tentacles were spreading upwards.

"The third time," the old man's voice was cold, "you failed."

Zhou Yang's face turned grim. He struggled violently, but the tentacles seemed to have taken root, tightening their grip the more he struggled.

"Is this your way of treating guests?"

"The way to treat a guest?" The old man laughed. "You're not a guest; you're a pawn. From the moment I stepped into this prison, you've been on my chessboard. You think you're making a deal with me? No, you're just playing according to the script I've set."

Zhou Yang's pupils contracted. He recalled his conversation with the supervisor, the "deal," and his smugness at thinking he had the upper hand. It turned out that from beginning to end, he had been the one being manipulated.

"What do you want?"

"Your blood. The 'Life-Sustaining Manual' requires a special bloodline to unlock. One drop of your blood isn't enough; it needs all of it."

Zhou Yang's lips twitched slightly.

"all?"

"Yes. Your entire body's blood is the key to unlock it. You contributed the key, and I received the book. That's the deal."

Zhou Yang fell silent. He looked down at the ever-spreading tentacles. They had already wrapped around his waist and were continuing to climb upwards. He knew he didn't have much time left.

But there was no sign of panic on his face.

"Your Excellency, the Superintendent," he looked up, meeting the old man's eyes directly, "you have made a mistake."

The old man raised an eyebrow. "What mistake?"

"You think I only have one choice."

Zhou Yang said, and then his body began to glow. The light was faint, yet pure, a golden light.

The old man was stunned. "This is..."

"You just said the Dragon Spine Fragment has been lost for many years." Zhou Yang's lips curled into a cold smile. "You're wrong. It's on me. And..."

His voice turned somber.

"It's very hungry."

The next second, the tentacles wrapped around him began to tremble violently, as if they had encountered something terrifying and were desperately trying to escape. But it was too late. Golden light surged from Zhou Yang's body, instantly engulfing the tentacles. The tentacles hissed and began to melt and dissipate.

Zhou Yang's body gradually rose within the light, hovering in mid-air. He reached out and grasped the book again. This time, there was no resistance. The book fell into his hand, light as a feather.

"Impossible!" the old man's voice turned shrill. "How could you have a fragment of the dragon's spine! That thing was destroyed long ago!"

"Destroyed?" Zhou Yang sneered. "Looks like you don't know much either."

He opened the book. On the first page, there were only four words.

[Extending life with life]

"So that's how it is." Zhou Yang murmured to himself. He finally understood the true meaning of this book. It wasn't meant to prolong other people's lives; it was meant to burn oneself to gain a moment's power. Just like the ability of the Dragon Spine Fragment.

"Alright." Zhou Yang closed the book, looked at the old man, and said, "The transaction is complete. I've got the book. You want my blood? Fine, but you'll have to ask it first."

He pointed to his chest. There, the golden light was still shimmering.

The old man's face turned extremely pale. He said nothing more, and his figure began to fade, like smoke being blown away by the wind.

"Zhou Yang." The old man's last voice echoed in the air, "You've won a game. But the game has only just begun."

Then, he disappeared completely.

Zhou Yang stood still, holding the book in his hand. The golden light gradually faded, sinking back into his body. He let out a long breath and gave a bitter smile.

"What a grand game of chess."