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

At the top of the observatory, the night wind was like a knife.

The once desolate battlefield was now eerily quiet, with only a few tattered flags fluttering in the wind. The air was thick with the stench of blood, mixed with the dust of crushed stones, making one's throat dry.

Qin Shuang stood before the tightly closed bronze gate, her embroidered spring knife already sheathed, but the knuckles of her fingers gripping the hilt were white. She didn't turn around; behind her were several surviving Jinyiwei guards, each one disheveled, some leaning against the ruins panting, others frantically bandaging their companions' wounds.

No one speaks.

Everyone was staring at that door.

That is the dividing line between life and death.

Half an hour ago, this place was a scene of carnage. The madman, the leader of the Heavenly Principle Sect, went berserk, and his bizarre and unpredictable corpse poison technique almost killed them all. If Qin Shuang hadn't risked her life and exhausted her inner strength to unleash the "Frosty Nine Provinces" strike, there would probably be no one alive on this Star Gazing Platform by now.

Even so, they were at their last gasp.

"Lord Centurion," a bloodied strongman's hoarse voice broke the silence, "the time... has come."

Qin Shuang's back stiffened slightly.

She knew it was time.

Zhou Yang has been inside for too long. According to the previous agreement, if he doesn't come out within half an hour, they will have to seal the entrance and break out on their own. This is the rule, and it's also to prevent the secrets underground from being leaked.

But she didn't move.

"Wait a little longer." Qin Shuang's voice was cold and hard, as if she were chewing on ice shards.

"My lord, if we don't leave now, the Heavenly Principle Sect's reinforcements will be here soon." The strongman struggled to his feet, his voice urgent. "Lord Zhou... he's probably in grave danger. Even Zhang the Madman wouldn't dare to force his way through those things underground, let alone him..."

"Shut up."

Qin Shuang suddenly turned her head, her eyes sharp as lightning, effectively silencing the strongman who was about to finish his sentence.

Of course she knew Zhou Yang might be dead.

How could that greedy, cowardly, money-obsessed scoundrel possibly survive in that godforsaken place underground?

But he said he would come out.

He once said that as long as the money is enough, even the King of Hell would have to make way for him.

This man never tells the truth, except when it comes to negotiating prices, his eyes light up with an alarming gleam.

Qin Shuang took a deep breath, suppressing the surging blood in her chest. She turned around, preparing to order an evacuation, when a slight tremor suddenly came from the ground beneath her feet.

This tremor was unlike any before.

It was neither an explosion nor a collapse.

Rather, it is a kind of... rhythm.

thump.

thump.

thump.

It was as if some enormous heart had begun to beat again deep underground. Each beat was accompanied by a deep, resonant echo that sent shivers down one's spine.

"What's going on? An earthquake?" a strongman shouted in alarm.

"No!" Qin Shuang's pupils shrank suddenly as she stared intently at the stone slab beneath her feet.

The once smooth bluestone floor began to glow with a strange, eerie light. Then, cracks, like winding worms, spread wildly outward from the gaps in the bronze gate.

Click—!

With a crisp sound, the stone slab in front of the bronze gate suddenly shattered.

It's not a collapse, but a rise.

A powerful, suffocating azure current, like a gushing spring from the earth, shot skyward. Contrary to expectations, this current carried an ancient, desolate, and even...sacred pressure.

In this azure light, the ground seemed to be torn apart by an invisible giant hand.

A staircase entirely formed from bronze-colored energy extends from the depths of the earth, steadily ascending step by step.

A figure slowly emerged from the top of the stairs.

He walked slowly, each step landing on tangible light, creating visible ripples beneath his feet.

There was no blood or wounds on him.

The once-oversized brocade guard's flying fish robe now fluttered without wind, and as the sleeves billowed, faint, fine blue dragon patterns could be seen moving around his body. The dragon patterns shimmered with light, as if they were alive, making his figure appear both majestic and mysterious.

The young man, who usually looked somewhat thin and even had a bit of a street thug vibe, now appeared to everyone as a god who had returned from ancient times.

Qin Shuang was stunned.

Her usually indifferent eyes were now unfocused, leaving only a blank expression.

She watched as the figure stepped onto the last step and landed steadily on the ruins of the observatory. The surrounding dust seemed to be kept three feet away by an invisible force, not even a speck of dust touching his boots.

Zhou Yang stood still, and the azure light on his body slowly receded, retreating into his body like a tide.

He raised his head and glanced around.

Finally, the light fell on Qin Shuang's pretty face, which was filled with astonishment.

He still wore that half-smile, slightly upturned mouth, with a hint of annoying laziness. He stretched, his joints cracking as if he had just woken up.

"Oh dear, I slept quite soundly this time."

As Zhou Yang spoke, he patted non-existent dust off his shoulders, glanced around, and finally fixed his gaze on the group of wounded soldiers behind Qin Shuang.

"This is... kind of messed up."

Qin Shuang opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something, but found that her throat was blocked by something and she could not make a sound.

She noticed a strand of white hair at Zhou Yang's temple.

Amidst his originally jet-black hair, that single, striking strand of silver stood out starkly. Though it was only a wisp, it seemed like a mark forcibly etched by time upon his body.

But he is still the same boy.

Zhou Yang didn't receive a reply from Qin Shuang, but he didn't mind. He strode past Qin Shuang, each step firm and steady, completely devoid of his previous frivolity.

"Where's Zhang the Madman?" he asked.

"There...it's over there."

A strongman trembled as he reached out and pointed to a huge stalagmite at the edge of the observatory.

Zhou Yang looked in the direction the finger was pointing.

There, Zhang the Madman's corpse was firmly nailed to the tip of a stalagmite. The once invincible leader of the Heavenly Principle Sect, who had beaten them to a pulp, now resembled a broken rag doll, his limbs twisted grotesquely, a gruesome sight. There was a huge hole in his chest, clearly pierced by the stalagmite, and he was already dead.

But around Zhang Fengzi's body were rings of black scorch marks, traces of being instantly burned by high temperatures.

Qin Shuang then came to her senses.

As she watched Zhou Yang's retreating figure, she suddenly remembered that at the underground entrance, Zhou Yang had said with a smile, "If I can still catch it when it's still hot when I come out, then this deal won't have been a waste of my time."

So he knew all along.

He's down there; he knows everything.

Zhou Yang walked up to Zhang Fengzi's body and stopped. He didn't look at the body, but stared at the pool of blood beneath it, his brows furrowing slightly.

"This is so ugly." He shook his head, as if appraising a substandard work of art. "But, it's a temple master after all, it should be worth some money, right?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly raised his right hand and grabbed at the air.

hum!

A suction force was generated out of nowhere.

On Zhang Fengzi's corpse, a murky yet pure burst of energy was forcibly ripped out. The energy struggled and twisted in the air, trying to escape, but it proved utterly vulnerable under Zhou Yang's azure dragon-patterned pressure.

"receive."

Zhou Yang gave a soft shout, and the ball of energy instantly entered his palm.

The system panel flashed before his eyes, and the number in the lifespan column jumped.

[Defeat the madman, the incense master of the Heavenly Principle Cult (in a near-death state), and gain lifespan: fifty years.]

Zhou Yang secretly felt a surge of satisfaction. This deal was a bargain. Although he had expended a lot underground, he not only recovered his losses but also made a profit.

After doing all this, he turned around and looked at Qin Shuang again.

At this moment, Qin Shuang had regained her usual composure, or rather, she was forcing herself to remain calm.

She looked at Zhou Yang, at this Zhou Yang who was completely different from the one she remembered. The feeling was strange; the person was still the same, but his aura had completely changed. Before, he was a troublesome rogue, but now… he gave her a strange sense of peace.

There was even a hint of...heartache?

Qin Shuang was startled by her own thought.

"You..." she began, her voice a little hoarse, "Are you alright?"

"What could possibly happen?" Zhou Yang grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. "I told you, I want more money. If I die in there, who's going to work for you?"

As he spoke, he walked toward Qin Shuang.

As he drew closer, Qin Shuang could clearly feel the heat emanating from him. It was the manifestation of the overflowing power of the dragon bones, warm and domineering, dispelling the originally cold night wind on the observatory.

Zhou Yang stopped three steps away from Qin Shuang.

He looked at Qin Shuang's pale face and the trace of blood at the corner of her mouth, and the joke he had prepared suddenly fell silent.

Was this woman just desperately protecting his escape route?

He sighed, reached into his robes, and pulled out a small, slightly warm bottle. It was the last remaining bottle of "Rejuvenation Powder," not exactly a miracle drug, but very effective for external injuries.

"Here you go." Zhou Yang handed over the bottle. "Consider it a free gift."

Qin Shuang stared blankly at that hand.

That hand was long and strong, with thin calluses on the palm. It was this hand that had just crushed Zhang Fengzi's remnant soul, and it was this hand that had created a haven for her underground.

She did not accept the medicine.

"What? You don't like the goods?" Zhou Yang raised an eyebrow, about to withdraw his hand, "This is top-quality..."

Before she could finish speaking, Qin Shuang suddenly stepped forward.

She reached out, not to get the medicine, but to grab Zhou Yang's wrist.

Her hands were cold, just like her name, carrying the chill of frost and snow.

Zhou Yang was taken aback: "Hey, what are you doing? I'm..."

Qin Shuang didn't speak. She just stared intently into his eyes, as if trying to discern something else from those seemingly cynical eyes.

Her eyes suddenly reddened.

In that instant, all the strength, all the indifference, all the weighing of pros and cons crumbled.

She wasn't after the bottle of medicine, nor was she after Zhang the Madman's death.

She suddenly realized that this person had really come back.

I've returned from that place where I was almost certain to die.

"Zhou Yang," she called his name. Her voice was very soft, as if she were afraid of startling something.

"Hmm?" Zhou Yang looked at her slightly reddened eyes, and his heart softened for no reason. This girl, usually so cold, why is she suddenly acting like this?

"I..." Qin Shuang bit her lower lip, as if she was making a difficult decision.

The next moment, she suddenly stepped forward, opened her arms, and hugged the young man in front of her tightly.

Zhou Yang froze.

His hand was still raised in mid-air, clutching the small medicine bottle, and he was being held like a wooden stake by Qin Shuang.

Qin Shuang hugged him tightly, as if she wanted to embed herself into his bones and blood. Her face was buried in Zhou Yang's shoulder, and the faint scent of ambergris mixed with the smell of Zhou Yang's sweat entered her nose, making her feel more at ease than ever before.

"You bastard..." Qin Shuang's muffled voice came from his shoulder, tinged with a barely perceptible sob, "...Do you know how long I've waited?"

Zhou Yang slowly lowered his hand, casually stuffing the medicine bottle back into his pocket.

He could feel a dampness on his shoulder. It was tears.

This is Qin Shuang, who is known as "Iceberg Cold Noodles".

Qin Shuang, who usually drew her sword against him and glared at him coldly, was now crying in his arms like a wronged little girl.

Zhou Yang's initial urge to tease him completely vanished.

He felt even more helpless than when he was underground facing the terrifying pressure of the dragon bones.

How much money would it take to offset this debt of gratitude?

He sighed inwardly, but a helpless yet gentle smile curved his lips.

He slowly raised his hand and patted Qin Shuang's back somewhat stiffly.

The movements were clumsy, yet very light.

"Alright, alright," Zhou Yang said in a low voice, his tone unusually serious. "I'm back. A little late, but at least I'm not late, right?"

Qin Shuang didn't let go, but just hugged him even tighter.

The Imperial Guards around them were completely dumbfounded. Their mouths were agape, and their eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets.

Is that Qin Baihu?

That cold-blooded and ruthless Qin Baihu who used people as weapons?

He actually hugged someone?

Should I still cling to Zhou Yang, who usually seems the most unreliable?

The world has gone mad.

Zhou Yang felt a little breathless from the hug, but he didn't push him away. He looked up at the vast starry sky above. The night was beautiful, the moon was full, perfect for murder or arson, or... for romance?

No, it's about business.

"Um," Zhou Yang cleared his throat, breaking the awkward yet romantic atmosphere, "Commander Qin, this hug is comfortable, but could you please let go first? There are so many people watching, do you even care about my reputation?"

Qin Shuang's body stiffened.

She suddenly raised her head, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes, but that familiar murderous aura had already re-emerged.

She glared at Zhou Yang, gritting her teeth: "What did you just say?"

"Uh..." Zhou Yang shrank back, desperately trying to survive, and changed his tune, "I mean, Zhang the Madman is dead, but there's definitely a mess to clean up here. Shouldn't we... get down to business first?"

Qin Shuang took a deep breath and calmed herself down.

She released her grip, took a step back, and quickly resumed her usual cold demeanor. However, her slightly reddened eyes and rosy lips still betrayed the turmoil within her.

"You're smart to know what's good for you." She snorted coldly, turning to her still-dazed subordinates. "What are you all looking at! Get to work! Clean up the battlefield and count the casualties!"

"Yes! Yes!"

The warriors snapped out of their daze and hurriedly lowered their heads, fearing that if they were even a second too late, Qin Baihu would take them to sacrifice to the flag.

Zhou Yang stood there, watching Qin Shuang's busy figure, the playful smile on his face gradually turning into a deep one.

He touched his chest.

There, the fragment of the dragon's spine was radiating warmth, beating in sync with his heart.

The price of thirty years of lifespan was exchanged for the foundation upon which this life stands.

And this woman's tears.

This deal seems to be even more worthwhile than I imagined.

He straightened his slightly disheveled collar and gazed at the distant city of Anyang. Under the cover of night, the city resembled a sleeping behemoth, concealing countless unseen dangers.

Commander Chen, the Heavenly Principles Sect, and that unfathomable Supervisor...

The trouble has only just begun.

But Zhou Yang wasn't afraid.

As long as he has money and a knife, there is no road in this world that Zhou Yang cannot traverse.

He took a step and followed Qin Shuang's footsteps, humming an unknown tune, which was his favorite song from his previous life.

Life is like a ruthless sculptor, changing our appearance...

The sound was very soft and was quickly carried away by the night breeze.

But Qin Shuang heard it.

She turned her head slightly, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the figure following behind her. A barely perceptible smile appeared on her lips.

That bastard, his humming is awful.

But it's good that you're alive.