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

Zhou Yang placed the token on the wooden table.

The tabletop was rough, the token cold. The guard captain raised his lantern, the flame dancing on the copper surface. He squinted three times, then looked up, his brow furrowed.

"This brand..." The captain ran his fingers along the edge, "is it Captain Gao's?"

"Otherwise what?" Zhou Yang leaned against the door frame, his fingers calculating the time inside his sleeve. "The captain just stamped it; it's still warm."

The captain didn't let go. He turned to look at the two soldiers beside him, whose hands were on the hilts of their swords, blocking the doorway.

"The Garrison Command has issued an order," the captain said emphatically, "the river will be sealed off tonight; no ships are permitted to pass."

Qin Shuang stood slightly behind and to the side of Zhou Yang, her right hand hanging down, her fingertips touching the hilt of the Embroidered Spring Blade. She didn't speak, her gaze like an icicle piercing the captain's nape.

Zhou Yang smiled, took out a piece of silver from his pocket, and tossed it onto the table.

"Sir, you've worked hard." The silver coin rolled twice before settling in a crack in the wood. "The captain said this is military business, extremely urgent."

The captain stared at the silver, swallowing hard. His fingers tightened and loosened.

"How about..." he looked up, "we check it again? I'll go get the captain..."

"It's too late."

Qin Shuang moved.

She strode to the table, placed her left hand on the captain's shoulder, and tapped his temple with the back of her knife with her right. The captain didn't even groan; he slumped back in his chair.

Just as the two soldiers drew their swords, Zhou Yang darted out and kicked the one on the left to the ground. Qin Shuang's scabbard struck the soldier on the right in the chest, sending him flying backward and crashing into the wooden wall.

"Let's go." Qin Shuang sheathed her sword.

Zhou Yang grabbed the token from the table, pushed open the door, and rushed out. Outside was a plank road, the wooden planks damp, and the river roared beneath his feet.

They had just run past the third corner when a sharp shout erupted behind them.

"Traitor, don't run away!"

Zhou Yang glanced back. At the end of the plank road, torches stretched like dragons, and a dark mass of people surged forth. The leader was dressed in a bullfighting outfit, and the golden knife at his waist gleamed in the firelight.

Pacification Commissioner.

"Release the arrows!"

The bowstring twanged. Zhou Yang grabbed Qin Shuang's wrist, and the two lunged towards the edge of the plank road. The wooden planks shattered, and arrows embedded themselves where they had just stood, their fletching whirring.

"Jump!" Zhou Yang roared.

The two leaped off the plank road. Ten feet of black water rushed towards them.

The river water rushed into his ears, icy cold. Zhou Yang held his breath, grabbed Qin Shuang's arm, and sank down. The arrow chased after it into the water, leaving behind thin white bubbles; its force dissipated, and it drifted away powerlessly.

The current was swift, carrying them downstream. Zhou Yang kicked his legs, trying to keep his face above water. Qin Shuang, however, sank deeper.

An arrow was stuck in her shoulder.

The blood spread faintly in the water, like ink dripping onto rice paper. Zhou Yang's heart tightened, and he reached out to hug her waist, desperately treading water.

"Song..." Qin Shuang opened her eyes, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, "Go by yourself."

"Shut up." Zhou Yang gritted his teeth. "I paid extra for this life, and I haven't even gotten my money's worth yet."

He tore off a piece of his shirt, tied a tight knot under her armpit, and bound his wrists. The river pushed them along like two rotten logs. The shouts of the pursuers on the bank faded into the distance, while the torches still flickered by the river, like a pack of hunting dogs sniffing out blood.

Zhou Yang floated on his back, with Qin Shuang lying on his chest. Her blood seeped out, warm and carrying the smell of rust, mixing with the river water and entering his nostrils.

Zhou Yang counted his breaths. One hundred, two hundred.

Three miles downstream, an old locust tree, a bluestone wharf. The boat that Gaode promised.

The current slowed. The fog thickened, becoming a white mist that obscured the shadows of the mountains on both banks. Zhou Yang kicked a rock, his knee slamming into a hidden reef, causing him to gasp in pain.

He dragged Qin Shuang towards the shore. Water plants tangled around their ankles, so he pulled out a dagger and cut them off. His fingers touched slippery stones, and his fingernails were half-turned off.

"We've arrived," Zhou Yang said, panting.

A dark shape appeared in the mist. It was a small, covered boat with a dim, yellow lantern hanging from its bow.

Zhou Yang pushed Qin Shuang onto the deck. The boat rocked, and the boatman reached out to pull her up, but Zhou Yang slapped his hand away and climbed on himself. The deck was slippery with rainwater.

"Set sail," Zhou Yang squeezed out through gritted teeth. "Quickly."

The boatman nodded and climbed into the stern. The oars creaked as the boat pulled away from the shore.

Zhou Yang gently laid Qin Shuang down in the cabin. Her face was deathly pale, and the arrow in her shoulder was still trembling; the shaft had snapped off, with half of it embedded in her flesh. Blood soaked through half of her body, turning her light blue flying fish robe black.

"Do you have any wound medicine?" Zhou Yang asked the boatman.

"In the hold," the boatman said without turning around, "there's still wine."

Zhou Yang took out a medicine bottle and lifted Qin Shuang's clothes. Her muscles tensed, and the veins on her forehead bulged, but she didn't utter a sound.

"I held back." Zhou Yang gripped the arrow shaft and exerted force.

Blood spurted out, splattering on Zhou Yang's face. Warm, with a sweet, metallic taste. Qin Shuang's body jerked, her teeth grinding together.

Zhou Yang pressed the medicinal powder onto the wound and wrapped it tightly with a strip of cloth. He moved quickly and his fingers were steady, as if he were bandaging a roast chicken.

"You owe me one," Zhou Yang said.

Qin Shuang opened her eyes and saw that his face was covered in blood. Suddenly, she tugged at the corner of her mouth and said, "Put it on the tab."

The boat sailed into the depths of the thick fog. The torches on the shore turned into blurry red dots and finally disappeared.

Zhou Yang sat at the bow of the boat, tearing open his wet clothes and wringing them out. River water flowed down the deck and into the gunwale, dripping and pattering.

He took out the token and examined it under the lantern. There was a fresh mark on the bronze surface, from when it had been knocked earlier.

"It was worth it." He tossed the token up, caught it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

The fog swallowed everything. Only the sound of oars, one after another, struck the deep darkness.

The oars made a rhythmic sound. Squeak, squeak.

The mist was damp and cold, clinging to the skin like an invisible layer of thin ice. Zhou Yang wrapped his half-dry long robe tighter around himself and leaned back at the bow of the boat. The river breeze carried the fishy smell of water, filling his nostrils. He didn't like the smell, but it was better than the smell of blood.

The boatman was a taciturn old man who only grinned when Qin Shuang gave him a small piece of silver. Then he began rowing without saying a word.

Zhou Yang likes this kind of person. They don't talk much, but they're reliable.

Qin Shuang rested in the cabin. Her injuries required quiet rest. Zhou Yang's bandaging technique was highly skilled, almost unsettling. The gauze wrapped around her waist, crossed, and knotted. His movements were steady, like bandaging a freshly baked chicken—careful yet indifferent.

"You owe me one," Zhou Yang said at the time.

Qin Shuang opened her eyes, saw his face covered in blood, and suddenly smirked, "Put it on the tab."

The boat sailed into the depths of the thick fog. The torches on the shore turned into blurry red dots and then disappeared. The world seemed to consist only of this small boat and the boundless fog.

Zhou Yang took out the city defense battalion's token and examined it under the dim lantern light. There was a fresh dent on the bronze surface, from when he accidentally knocked it onto the table during his confrontation with Gao De.

"It was worth it." He tossed the token up, caught it, and stuffed it into his pocket. This token would be their new talisman.

The fog swallowed everything. Only the sound of oars, one after another, struck the deep darkness.

Suddenly, the sound of oars stopped.

It wasn't Zhou Yang who stopped it, it was the boatman.

The old man stopped moving, his hand gripping the oar trembling, his face paler than fog. He stared ahead, his lips quivering, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Zhou Yang followed his gaze.

In the middle of the river, there was an extra shadow.

A black dot. The black dot is growing larger at a rate visible to the naked eye.

It is a ship.

A ship, entirely black. Its hull looked as if it had been dyed with the darkest ink, reflecting no light and drawing away the surrounding mist. It had no sails, no oars, and simply sat suspended in mid-air on the water, facing their ship from afar.

Silence as death.

Even the wind has stopped.

On the black ship, there stood a man.

The man wore a long black robe, the hem embroidered with dark gold flame patterns. He was tall and thin, like a javelin stuck in the bow of a ship. Mist flowed around him, yet could not get more than three feet away.

Zhou Yang squinted. He couldn't see the person's face clearly, but he could see their eyes. A pair of emotionless eyes, like two cold glass beads.

"People from the Heavenly Principle Sect." Zhou Yang's heart skipped a beat. He recognized the flame symbol on the robe.

The cabin curtain was lifted, and Qin Shuang stepped out. Her face was still somewhat pale, but her back was ramrod straight. In her hand was a gleaming short sword.

"Inspector." Qin Shuang's voice was soft, but tinged with seriousness.

Inspector?

Zhou Yang's heart sank. He had heard of this name within the Heavenly Principle Sect. It referred to high-ranking enforcers within the sect, specializing in cleaning up their own ranks and hunting down traitors. Each inspector was a terrifyingly powerful expert.

Unexpectedly, they sent this kind of person.

The man on the black ship spoke. His voice was flat, without inflection, like the grinding of a stone. "The legacy of Fang Tian rests on you."

A declarative sentence. Not a question.

Zhou Yang didn't speak, but instead locked all his aura onto the other man. This man was dangerous. He was the strongest enemy he had encountered since he began his escape.

"The Holy Maiden has decreed that you are invited to return to the Church," the Inspector continued, his voice devoid of emotion. "Hand over the inheritance and come with me. You may be spared death."

Return? Immunity from death?

Zhou Yang almost burst out laughing. What did the Heavenly Principle Sect take him for? A dog they could summon and dismiss at will? He knew perfectly well how Fang Tian had died. If he returned to the sect, he would likely suffer an even more gruesome death.

"What if I don't?" Zhou Yang asked lazily, his body tense like a bow.

"Then die."

The inspector's answer was simple.

Before he finished speaking, he moved.

He was still on the black ship, but one of his hands had already made a feint towards Zhou Yang.

An indescribable pressure descended instantly.

That wasn't internal energy, nor was it the force of a punch. It was a higher level of power: True Essence.

Zhou Yang felt as if a mountain was pressing down on him, and he couldn't even breathe. The deck beneath his feet groaned under the weight, and the entire small boat suddenly sank.

The surrounding river water underwent strange changes.

"Click...click..."

A crisp cracking sound rang out. The river water beside the boat froze at a visible speed. Ice flowers spread rapidly, covering the surface of the water within a radius of ten feet in the blink of an eye. The river water seemed to have transformed into a giant piece of jade, freezing their small boat in the center.

Even the moisture in the air condensed into frost, which drifted down onto Zhou Yang's hair and shoulders.

This is the oppressive aura of a True Essence Realm expert. A single move is enough to freeze the river's surface. The difference in strength is so vast it's despair-inducing.

"Walk!"

Qin Shuang let out a low shout. She knew she was no match for him, but she couldn't just sit and wait to die. She moved with lightning speed, her short sword flashing as she charged forward. She wasn't aiming for the Inspector, but rather at his outstretched hand. She wanted to break free from this oppressive aura.

The sword light was bright and fast.

But in the eyes of the inspector, it was ridiculously slow.

He didn't even glance at it, just casually waved his other hand.

An invisible wall of energy crashed into Qin Shuang's sword.

"clang!"

With a sharp crack, the steel short sword in Qin Shuang's hand was shattered into pieces! She was sent flying as if struck by an invisible hammer, crashing heavily onto the deck of the cabin.

"puff--"

A mouthful of blood spurted out, staining her clothes red on her chest. Her body slumped to the ground, and the light in her eyes dimmed.

It was just one move. Not even a single move; it was just a casual flick of the wrist.

Qin Shuang was defeated.

"Overestimating yourself." The inspector coldly commented, his gaze falling on Zhou Yang again as if he were looking at a dead man.

Zhou Yang's body was trembling.

It wasn't out of fear, but out of anger.

A surge of burning rage rose from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He could disregard his own life and death; he was used to dancing on the edge of a knife. But he could not accept that Qin Shuang had suffered such a severe injury because of him.

This woman, from the initial mutual exploitation to later fighting side by side, their relationship had long since transcended a simple transaction. Zhou Yang understood this better than anyone.

The way she fell to the ground was like a needle, piercing the softest part of Zhou Yang's heart.

Oh shit.

Zhou Yang's pupils shrank to two dangerous pinpoints.

He stared at the black-robed inspector hovering on the ice, a slow grin spreading across his face, revealing a set of white teeth. In the dim lantern light, the smile appeared somewhat sinister.

You've offended me.

Zhou Yang said softly.

He closed his eyes.

Deep within his consciousness, the scale representing the length of his life clearly emerged. Over three hundred years—this was all he had now.

Does it burn?

For an invincible enemy, for a woman who might die soon, he burned the life he had earned with his own life.

does it worth?

There was no time for him to weigh the options.

The inspector had lost his patience. He raised his hand, fingers spread, aiming at Zhou Yang's head. This time, he intended to crush his skull, extract his soul, and retrieve the inherited secret techniques.

A shadow of death instantly enveloped Zhou Yang.

Worth it.

Zhou Yang suddenly opened his eyes.

He made a decision.

"Burning life!"

He didn't shout it out loud, but roared in his heart.

A surge of intense heat exploded from his heart, instantly coursing through his limbs and bones. It wasn't the feeling of increased power, but rather the searing pain of life being ignited. He could clearly feel his lifespan rapidly slipping away.

Ten years... twenty years...

The reading on the scale of life is plummeting.

But at the same time, his mind entered a state of unprecedented clarity.

The inspector's movements appeared to be slowed down countless times in his eyes. The angle at which the inspector raised his arm, the route of his true energy circulation, the movement of every muscle, and every subtle change in expression were all dissected into clear pictures and rehearsed in his mind.

Deduction begins.

At the cost of burning lifespan, instantly analyze everything about the opponent.

The Inspector's cultivation method is called the "Mysterious Ice True Scripture," which focuses on cultivating cold-natured true essence, extremely yin and cold.

His move, called "Freezing the Three Realms," uses true essence to transform the illusory into the real, instantly freezing everything.

flaw……

Where is the flaw?

Countless fragments of data flickered in Zhou Yang's eyes. The inspector's movements were infinitely dissected and reassembled in his vision. The range of motion of every joint, the strength and weakness of every strand of true energy, were calculated with crystal clarity.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

found it!

A cold smile curled at the corners of Zhou Yang's mouth.

The power of the "Mysterious Ice Scripture" lies in its instantaneous burst and wide coverage. However, the more powerful a technique, the more fatal its weakness. In the instant before the true essence erupts, there is a barely perceptible pause. That is the moment when power transforms from nothingness into substance.

The time of stagnation is only one-thousandth of a second.

It's meaningless to ordinary people.

But for Zhou Yang now, that's enough.

Just as the inspector's five fingers were about to close, and the chilling aura that seemed to freeze everything was about to touch Zhou Yang's skin.

Zhou Yang moved.

Instead of retreating, he took a step forward.

His step landed precisely on a weak spot in the ice. With a crack, the ice beneath his feet shattered. Using the recoil, he floated away like a weightless leaf.

His speed wasn't fast, but his timing was absolutely perfect.

He appeared right in front of the inspector, just barely avoiding the core of the frozen true essence, and just barely... extended two fingers toward the inspector's wrist.

His goal was not to attack, but to touch.

The inspector's pupils contracted sharply for the first time.

He never expected that this junior, whom he considered like an ant, could find a way out after his strongest attack, and even... be able to fight back?

impossible!

He tried to pull his hand away, but it was too late.

Zhou Yang's fingertips, carrying a strange warmth, gently rested on his wrist.

The instant the touch occurred, the inspector felt a scorching heat coursing through his skin and into his meridians. It wasn't his own Xuanbing True Essence, but a more domineering and unreasonable force.

This force instantly shattered the Xuanbing True Essence flowing through the meridians near his wrist.

"boom!"

The inspector felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been plunged into his arm, and a sharp pain shot through him. The true energy he maintained by "Freezing the Three Realms" instantly created a huge gap.

The chill that had frozen the river surface came to an abrupt end.

Zhou Yang's cold smile deepened.

He slightly twisted the two fingers that were resting on the inspector's wrist.

"Break," he said softly.

"Clatter!"

A crisp sound of bone cracking rang out sharply on the silent river.

The inspector let out a muffled groan, clutching his wrist and staggering back two steps. He looked down and saw his wrist twisted at an unnatural angle. The bone was broken.

His wrist was broken in a single move by a younger, inexperienced person.

This discovery shocked and angered him even more than the loss itself.

"You...are dead!" For the first time, the Inspector's voice was filled with overwhelming killing intent.

Zhou Yang ignored his threat. He simply stood there, slightly out of breath. In that instant, he had burned away a full thirty years of his lifespan. His face was pale, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.

"Now, it's my turn." Zhou Yang looked at his fingers, then at the Inspector, and said slowly.