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

Zhou Yang leaned against the cold bronze instrument, his chest heaving violently.

With each breath, his lungs felt like they were being brutally sanded, producing a hoarse, grating sound like a broken bellows. A metallic, sweet taste of blood filled his throat—a sign of internal organ damage.

But he didn't have time to care.

His gaze was fixed on the suspended bronze bone fragment.

Dragon spine fragment.

The thing hovered less than three feet from his nose, its intricate and obscure cloud and thunder patterns seeming to come alive, flowing slowly in the dim starlight. An indescribable, desolate pressure emanated from his nostrils and into his brain, making his scalp tingle.

"Thirty years of lifespan..."

Zhou Yang's chapped lips moved slightly, his voice hoarse as if two rough stones were rubbing against each other.

That last round of "purified ambergris" practically drained him dry. His once substantial fortune shrank by more than half, leaving him utterly penniless.

If it were someone else, they would probably be crying and wailing, or cursing God for tormenting them like this.

But Zhou Yang did not.

Not only did he not, but his bloodshot eyes actually gleamed with a strange, piercing light.

That's the look in a merchant's eyes when they see a rare commodity, the look in a hungry wolf's eyes when it sees a fat sheep.

"System," he murmured to himself.

"Current lifespan remaining: 30 years."

The cold, mechanical voice was devoid of any emotion, like a bucket of cold water being poured over one's head.

Thirty years.

For an ordinary person, this might be a lifetime. But for a martial artist who walks on the edge of a knife, especially a ruthless character like him who has to burn his lifespan to "add money" at the drop of a hat, thirty years is just a few desperate deals.

One wrong move and you're bankrupt, or you're dead.

Zhou Yang, panting heavily, slowly raised his hand. His fingers trembled, not from fear, but from spasms caused by overexertion of his muscles. The moment his fingertips touched the piece of dragon bone, a bone-chilling cold shot straight to his heart, making him shiver.

But after that chill, there was an extremely pure feedback of power.

"This is good stuff..."

Zhou Yang grinned, his teeth stained with blood, making him look somewhat ferocious.

If you were to sell this thing and exchange it for a few peerless martial arts manuals, along with some rare and precious herbs that prolong life, living for another fifty years wouldn't be a problem, let alone thirty. It's like exchanging ancestral antiques for cash; if handled properly, you could not only recoup your investment but also make a hefty profit.

But is that all he wants?

Zhou Yang narrowed his eyes, his gaze passing through the dragon bone and looking at the massive and mysterious bronze instrument behind him.

The entire observatory was deathly silent.

Only the light filtering through the skylight above cast a pale moonlight, making the ancient inscriptions on the tortoise shells appear particularly eerie.

The supervisor was not present.

Or rather, the supervisors are omnipresent.

Those eyes hidden behind the stars, though unseen, gave Zhou Yang a distinct, piercing sense of scrutiny. This old man had thrown him into this hellish situation, given him a copy of the *Qingnang Xuming Pian*, and then shown him this piece of dragon bone.

What is this?

test?

If this was a test, then the price was far too high. If there had been just one or two more bone monsters, or if the purification process of the dragon's saliva had been even a fraction of a second slower, Zhou Yang would already be a cold corpse.

Something's not right.

Zhou Yang dropped his smug smile and his expression became serious.

He was a very resigned person, and also a very stubborn one. In this cannibalistic world, if you can't even grasp basic logic, then death is not far away.

"That old fox gave me such a good thing as the 'Qing Nang Xu Ming Pian' not out of kindness to teach me how to cure diseases and save lives."

Zhou Yang's brain was working at lightning speed, and he forcibly suppressed the fatigue he felt during the fight.

The core of "Qing Nang Xu Ming Pian" lies in the word "extending life".

The book records a mysterious art called "grafting." Simply put, it involves grafting a dying tree onto a thriving tree stump, using the roots of another tree to sustain one's own life.

This method is extremely insidious; in the eyes of the righteous, it is heresy and evil.

But the timing of this book's appearance at this critical juncture is too coincidental.

It's like you're so thirsty your throat is parched, and suddenly a broken bowl full of water falls from the sky. Even though the bowl is a bit leaky, at least there's water.

"grafting……"

Zhou Yang muttered to himself, his gaze shifting back and forth between the dragon bone in his hand and the bronze behemoth behind him.

This observatory is an ancient site from a previous dynasty, standing strong despite centuries of wind and rain. Its underground network connects to the dragon veins and earth energy of the entire Anyang Prefecture. The bronze instruments, drawing upon the power of the stars, operate ceaselessly day and night.

It looks like a huge, ownerless "tree stump".

And I am that dying "branch".

Where is the keel?

Zhou Yang stared at the piece of broken bone in his hand that was emitting a ghostly light.

This is the catalyst, the key, and also the indispensable "adhesive" for grafting.

That old bastard, the Supervisor, wasn't even giving me a choice. Take the dragon bone and leave alive? That's just the most foolish "cutting off an arm to survive" method. Without the observatory's suppression, the Heavenly Principle Cult members outside would have already surrounded this place.

"This is a calculation problem."

Zhou Yang suddenly raised his head, his eyes becoming sharp as knives.

"You gave me the 'Qingnang Life-Extending Manual,' then showed me these dragon bones, and even deliberately released those bone monsters to deplete my strength, forcing me to burn my lifespan to purify dragon saliva..."

"You dug all the pits."

"You've paved all the roads."

"You want more than just me to take this broken bone; you want me to..."

Zhou Yang took a deep breath, turned to look at the silent bronze instrument, and a crazy smile appeared on his lips.

"You want me to make this table my own."

The thought startled even Zhou Yang himself.

To claim an observatory as one's own?

This sounds like a complete fantasy. It's like a beggar who not only wants to dine and dash but also wants to take over the restaurant.

But upon closer examination, he realized that this was the only viable path.

This dragon bone is the backbone of the dragon vein, and it is itself a bridge connecting the energy of heaven and earth. The grafting method in the "Qing Nang Xu Ming Pian" can just allow him to forcibly "plant" his spiritual imprint into the operating logic of this bronze instrument through the dragon bone.

If the grafting is successful, the observatory will recognize him as its master.

At that time, all those supervisors, the Heavenly Principles Sect, and any attempts to surround and block them will be nothing but trash in the face of this immense earth vein power.

This is a huge deal that can be made without any investment.

The risks are incredibly high, but the returns are also frighteningly high.

"Thirty years of lifespan..."

Zhou Yang looked down at his palm.

The system's red warning was still flashing on his retina, as if mocking his overestimation of his abilities.

If things were going according to the usual pattern, he should be grabbing the dragon bone and running away as fast as he can, finding a place to hide and slowly digest this opportunity.

But Zhou Yang never plays by the rules.

Especially in such desperate situations.

"Run? Where to run?"

Zhou Yang sneered, his mind racing with calculations.

"I only have thirty years left to live. Even if I run away, I'll be a cripple. Any random kid could take me down. Rather than clinging to this meager savings and barely surviving, I might as well go all in."

"Fortune favors the bold; I understood this principle when I was three years old."

"If this observatory were truly mine, it would be a super 'money-printing machine' that operates around the clock and has no blind spots. Using the power of this earth's veins to nourish my body, let alone thirty years, even three hundred or three thousand years wouldn't be a big problem."

This is the pattern.

Mediocre people only see the immediate losses, while experts see the future potential.

The supervisor gave him a "life-or-death question," but Zhou Yang insisted on solving it as an "easy point question."

Not only do you have to get points, but you also have to empty the pockets of the person who set the questions.

Zhou Yang slowly got up from the ground.

He swayed unsteadily, like a drunkard. But he stood firmly, his legs planted firmly on the ground like nails.

He turned around to face the towering bronze instrument.

This thing was cold and lifeless, like a giant tombstone.

"Old buddy..."

Zhou Yang reached out and gently stroked the mottled rust on the bronze pillar. His fingertips traced the cold grooves, and his eyes revealed a tenderness as if he were looking at a peerless beauty.

"I see you've stood here all alone for hundreds of years; you must be quite lonely."

"How about... we live together as a couple?"

Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly gripped the dragon spine fragment in his hand tightly.

As if sensing his intention, the severed bone trembled violently and let out a clear dragon's roar, causing the surrounding air to buzz.

At the same time, the tortoise shell on Zhou Yang's chest became scorching hot, as if a ball of fire was burning inside.

The art of grafting emphasizes "severing the root and attaching the stem".

The price to pay for forcibly attaching one's meager "capital" to the "root" of this enormous bronze behemoth is staggering.

This is not just about burning away one's lifespan; it's about tearing a hole in one's soul and letting the will of this observatory pour in.

If he fails, he'll be a fool, a complete idiot, and not even a trace will remain.

But if successful...

"system!"

Zhou Yang gave a low shout in his heart, his eyes resolute.

"I have detected a high-energy reaction in the vicinity. Should I proceed with the absorption?" The system's voice remained cold and rigid.

"Devour my ass!" Zhou Yang cursed inwardly. "According to the method of 'Transplanting Flowers and Grafting Trees' in the third chapter of the 'Qing Nang Xu Ming Pian,' start the grafting process for me!"

"Warning: This operation is high-risk and will consume a significant amount of the host's lifespan. Estimated consumption: 30 years."

"Are you sure?"

"Screw you!"

Zhou Yang gritted his teeth, and a trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth.

"Burn! All of it! Thirty years! Burn it all!"

"This time, I'm going to make this table spit out!"

With a roar, Zhou Yang slammed the dragon spine fragment in his hand into the groove beneath the bronze instrument.

boom--!

A loud bang, like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

The entire observatory trembled violently, and the once silent starry sky above suddenly lit up with countless stars, as if a million eyes had opened at the same time.

A visible beam of cyan light shot into the sky from the bronze instrument, instantly piercing the dark firmament.

Zhou Yang felt as if his body had been thrown into a steel furnace, his internal organs burning. The excruciating pain was a hundred or even a thousand times more intense than when he was refining ambergris.

That was the feeling of life force rapidly slipping away.

That was the pain of being mercilessly crushed by the wheels of time.

My skin started to dry out, my hair started to turn yellow and brittle, and wrinkles started to appear rapidly at the corners of my eyes.

Thirty years have passed in the blink of an eye.

For an ordinary person, this might be half a lifetime.

But for Zhou Yang at this moment, these were just chips he was pushing onto the gambling table.

"Connect it for me!"

He gripped the bronze pillar tightly with both hands, his fingernails snapping, and blood flowed down between his fingers, seeping into the ancient cloud and thunder patterns.

Blood is the medium.

The keel is the bridge beam.

Lifespan is fuel.

The mental cultivation method of "Qing Nang Xu Ming Pian" was running wildly in his mind. Those obscure and difficult words had now become the clearest instructions, guiding the vast power of the earth veins to forcefully pour into his body little by little.

A strange sense of fusion arises spontaneously.

He felt as if he had become a blood vessel, a nerve, within this bronze instrument. He could feel the immense, heavy breathing deep underground, the pulse of the dragon vein.

He could feel the clear light of the stars falling from above, the gaze of the heavens.

The pain was still intense, but a maniacal smile appeared on Zhou Yang's face.

"Jianzheng..."

He laughed wildly to himself.

"You think I'm making a choice? What a load of rubbish!"

"I'm doing business!"

"This is my admission ticket!"

"This observatory... I'll take it!"

With a final roar, the light on the bronze instrument suddenly contracted, converging entirely onto Zhou Yang.

The originally cold metal surface was now glowing with a faint red light, like the pulsating blood vessels of a living creature.

Zhou Yang felt like his body was about to explode, but he gritted his teeth and remained silent.

This is the enlightenment of the lay Buddhist who adds money.

As long as the profit is big enough, you can risk your life on the scales!

Today, this life is my only asset!

He wants to win!

We must turn this deadlock around!

"Rumble..."

The tremors at the observatory gradually subsided.

The tortoise shell in front of Zhou Yang had now turned into dust.

The fragment of the dragon's spine had completely merged into the bronze instrument and disappeared without a trace.

Instead, a blue, dragon-scale-shaped mark appeared on Zhou Yang's palm.

The mark pulsed, resonating with his heartbeat.

An unprecedentedly vast power flowed continuously back into his withering body through the mark.

The withered skin became plump again, the dry and yellow hair returned to its black color, and even the meridians that were on the verge of collapse were forcibly widened and reshaped at this moment.

Lifespan is burning, but new life is also being born.

It's a big gamble.

If you win the bet, it's the road to heaven.

If you lose the bet, you're just a handful of dust.

Zhou Yang gasped for breath and slowly loosened his blood-covered hand.

He staggered back half a step and sat down on the ground with a thud.

But he didn't fall.

He raised his head, looking at the vast starry sky above, his eyes revealing a sense of relief at surviving a disaster and a feeling of being in control of everything.

"Thirty years..."

He touched the burning hot mark on his chest, feeling the rhythm emanating from it, like the beating of a heart.

"This deal was worthwhile."

He grinned, revealing a smile that was more like a grimace, but his eyes shone with a light brighter than the stars.

In this round, he not only survived.

And then, incidentally... he overturned the dealer's table.