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

The sound of raindrops on the green tiles was like the soft beat of drums. Zhou Yang stood in the center of the ruins, a small bag of "Blood-Seeing Sorrow" clutched in his hand. The powder was blood-red, and it shimmered faintly when touched by the light. Beside him stood the shadowy figure—Ghost-Seeing Sorrow—its body shrouded in swirling mist, its eyes gleaming with a chilling light.

Zhou Yang poured the powder onto the ground. Upon contact with the blood mist, the powder quickly turned into black smoke. The black smoke gathered around the ghostly figure, slicing through it like a sharp blade. The Ghostly Sorrow trembled, its wisps of mist corroded, and its power noticeably weakened. It let out a low growl, its voice filled with a agonizing, tearing pain.

"Now," Zhou Yang whispered, "the Seven Forms of Severing Water." He closed his eyes, a sharp pain shooting through his chest. The flame of life ignited in his blood, three years of life transforming into a blazing red light. The light burst through his throat, instantly piercing every meridian. Each form of the Seven Forms of Severing Water surged through his body like a tidal wave breaking through a dam, carving out its complete form. Blade strikes, palm winds, and footwork resonated with each other, forming an invisible killing array.

The light faded, and Zhou Yang opened his eyes. His Embroidered Spring Blade was now stained with blood mist, the back of the blade trembling slightly. The tip pointed at Gui Jianchou's chest—the most vulnerable part of its soul. The first move, "Shattering Waves," saw the tip of the blade draw a thin, long streak of light, striking directly at the chest. The blade flashed like water crackling, making a sharp, popping sound.

The Demon-Seeing Sorrow screamed, its blood mist cleaved apart, emitting a piercing wail. With its remaining strength, it flung out its claws, but the blades turned into raindrops, easily deflecting them. The second move, "Reverse Flow," saw the blade arc upwards, the light swirling up the surrounding mist into a whirlwind. The whirlwind bound the Demon-Seeing Sorrow's remaining mist, forcing it to gasp for breath.

The third move, "Abyss Sinking," thrusts the blade downwards like a heavy boulder pressing down on the opponent's heart. A thin crack appears on Ghost's chest, from which blood mist spurts. Its eyes become confused, and dark mist begins to overflow from its hand.

The fourth move, "Suspended Flow," saw the blade spin, its light slicing through the air like flowing water, creating several streaks of silver. Each streak precisely cut into the edge of the crack, as if adding fuel to the wound. Ghost's body began to twist, the mist surrounding him being shredded into pieces.

The fifth move, "Returning Tide," saw the blade retract, and the dark current surged back, pressing towards Ghost's Back. It suddenly looked up, terror flashing in its eyes, but it was too late to dodge. The dark current, like a sharp blade, pierced directly into its back.

The sixth move, "Surging Wave," saw the blade thrust violently from behind, reaching straight to the spine. Ghostly Sorrow almost vanished into nothingness; the mist around his body was drawn away, leaving behind only a thin, frail body, with blood mist still dripping from his chest.

The seventh move, "Steady Flow," saw the blade retract and slowly slice across the body. The blade didn't sever the spine, but it left clear marks on every meridian. The Demon's Sorrow's power was completely weakened, unable to return to its original form.

The blade flashed, and Ghostly Sorrow knelt on the ground, blood mist continuously flowing from its chest, yet it showed no signs of death. A lingering light remained in its eyes, revealing its unwillingness. Zhou Yang stood in the rain, raindrops dripping from the hilt of his sword, striking the ground with a crisp sound.

"Stop," Zhou Yang commanded, his voice not loud, but carrying a sense of oppression.

Gui Jianchou raised its hand, trying to escape. Zhou Yang gently waved his hand, and a silver nail was thrown from its sleeve, its head gleaming coldly, accurately piercing Gui Jianchou's ankle. It groaned in pain, its body stiffening, unable to move.

Zhou Yang stepped forward, his fingers lightly tracing the back of the blade, which was as warm as blood. Then, he bent down and gently pressed Gui Jianchou's head to the ground. His palm touched it lightly, feeling the lingering chill within the other's body.

"Dying is too cheap," Zhou Yang chuckled softly. "Your value is more than your life."

The demon screamed, its voice a mixture of hatred and terror, before dissipating into a wisp of mist in the rainy night. The rain washed away the bloodstains on the ground, leaving a faint smell of rust.

A system voice whispered in my ear: "Defeat a powerful enemy (late stage of True Essence Realm), lifespan +15 years, net gain +11 years."

Zhou Yang looked up at the distant lights. The lights reflected on the damp tiles like scattered gold. He chuckled softly, a calculating glint in his eyes.

"This deal was a good one," he said, his voice filled with a businessman's satisfaction.

Qin Shuang emerged from the shadows, her sleeves damp. There was no smile in her eyes, but she nodded. In her hand lay a blood-red pebble—a remnant of the "Bloodthirsty Sorrow" from earlier.

"Transaction complete," she said calmly. "Don't put me in such a dangerous place again next time."

Zhou Yang put the pebbles into his pocket and brushed the rain off his shoulder. The rain was still falling, but it was no longer as heavy as before. The streetlights on both sides of the street lit up, illuminating the bluestone washed clean by the rain.

He looked back at the ruins shrouded in mist, silently calculating in his mind: How many more uses of the Seven Styles of Water Cutting could he exchange for with his remaining lifespan? How much more value could he extract from powerful enemies?

Footsteps echoed in the rain as Zhou Yang walked towards the city gate of Beizhen. The ruins behind him gradually faded from view, with only the sound of rain still resonating in his ears.

He didn't turn around. Raindrops fell on his shoes, splashing up tiny droplets, like money dripping into his pocket.

The rain was fine and dense, like cow's hair.

The streets on the east side of the capital were sparsely populated. Rainwater washed over the bluestone slabs, giving them a cold, hard sheen.

Zhou Yang stood under the eaves of a pharmacy. At his feet lay a person. The person was dressed in black, soaked to the bone, and the clothes around the chest were blackened with blood. His breathing was very light; if one did not look closely, he was no different from a dead man.

It is "the devil's nightmare".

Zhou Yang bent down and nudged his shoulder with his toe.

no response.

He was alive and well. It's just that Zhou Yang's knife strikes were measured, avoiding all vital organs. He spared his life, but the pain was unavoidable. Every inch of his bones felt as if they had been repeatedly crushed.

"Find a door panel," Zhou Yang said to the two Imperial Guard captains behind him without turning his head.

The two captains hesitated for a moment. One of them finally spoke up: "Sir, he's from the Eastern Depot. Are we just going to... send him back like this?"

"Otherwise what?" Zhou Yang turned his head. "Keep him around for the New Year? Bury him? Or wait for him to wake up on his own so he can stab us in the back?"

The captain was speechless. He felt his superior's words made sense, but this action was too insane. To beat the Eastern Depot's men half to death and then personally send them back—this was humiliation. It was blatant provocation.

"Go quickly." Zhou Yang's voice wasn't loud, but it lacked warmth. "Don't waste time; he'll bleed to death, and then the debt won't be settled."

The captain dared not ask any more questions. He and his companion, one on each side, soon carried a dilapidated door panel from a nearby run-down courtyard. The door panel still had faded red paint on it, indicating that it had been there for quite some time.

The two carefully lifted Gui Jianchou against the door. Gui Jianchou groaned in pain, without even opening his eyes.

"Let's go."

Zhou Yang waved his hand and walked ahead. Two captains carried a door panel, following behind him. The three of them crossed several streets. The common people on the road, seeing this, kept their distance. They were wearing the flying fish robes of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and no one dared to look at them for long.

The Eastern Depot's headquarters was located near the Dong'an Gate of the Imperial City. Two stone-carved Bi'an beasts squatted at the entrance, their mouths agape and their expressions sinister. Ordinary people passing by would feel their legs go weak.

A row of guards stood at the entrance, dressed in indigo robes with swords at their waists. Their eyes, sharp as eagles, scanned the passersby.

Zhou Yang and his two companions walked over.

The guards' eyes immediately locked onto them. When they saw the person lying on the door, their expressions changed drastically. It was Gui Jianchou, one of the three most powerful fighters under their leader. Now, he was being carried around like a dead dog.

The leader of the guards' faces darkened, and he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard have always kept to themselves. But in the capital, each has the upper hand. Today's incident clearly shows the Embroidered Uniform Guard coming to challenge them.

"Halt! What are you doing?" the leader of the guards shouted sternly.

Zhou Yang stopped in his tracks. He looked up at the black plaque with gold lettering belonging to the Eastern Depot before turning his gaze to the foreigner's face.

"Deliver the goods," Zhou Yang said casually.

What kind of goods are you sending?

Zhou Yang pointed to the person on the door panel. "This person stayed at my place for a few days, and I took care of all his needs, from food and drink to using the toilet. Now, I'm bringing him back to settle the bill."

The guard was so angry his face turned green. What kind of talk was that? The top assassins of the Heavenly Principle Sect were treated like royalty in their Eastern Depot. But in Zhou Yang's words, they were treated like mere diners.

"How dare you! Do you know who this is?"

"I know." Zhou Yang nodded. "He's supposed to be a 'ghost's nightmare.' Too bad, he doesn't live up to his name. I don't feel any fear when I see him."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a slap in the face to each of the guards.

Just then, the gate of the Eastern Depot creaked open, and a man walked out. This man was a foreman surnamed Wang, nicknamed "Scorpion Wang." He was thin and bony, with a goatee, and his eyes were as sharp as a scorpion's.

He saw the scene outside, then looked at the dying Ghost Sorrow on the door panel, and his face instantly turned extremely ugly.

"Commander Zhou," Wang Xiezi said, his eyes narrowed and his voice hoarse, "you beat my men like this and then sent them back. What do you mean by that?"

"Boss Wang, don't misunderstand." Zhou Yang smiled slightly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'm just a businessman. I believe in fair trade."

As he spoke, he pulled a piece of burlap from his pocket. The burlap was something he had just torn from the pharmacy, and a few lines of writing were crookedly written on it with charcoal.

He walked to the door panel and covered Guijianchou's face with the burlap.

"Excuse me, please read it to Chief Wang."

A captain behind him cleared his throat and loudly announced, "Medical expenses: 100,000 taels of silver. Compensation for emotional distress: 100,000 taels of silver. Compensation for lost wages: 100,000 taels of silver. Total: 300,000 taels of silver. Payment settled immediately, no credit allowed."

After the reading was finished, the entire entrance to the East Depot fell into a deathly silence.

Even the sound of the rain seemed to have become quieter.

Three hundred thousand taels.

This is no small sum. Enough to buy a large area of ​​shops on the most bustling streets of the capital. Enough to feed an army on the border for two years.

Wang Xiezi's lips twitched with anger. He looked at Zhou Yang as if he were a madman.

"Zhou Yang, don't push your luck!"

"I've clearly stated my price," Zhou Yang corrected him. "Ghost-Fearing Sorrow trespassed into my territory, trying to kill me. I injured him, but spared his life. That's fair. Aren't you Eastern Depot supposed to be the most 'fair'?"

He emphasized the word "fairness".

Wang Xiezi's face turned pale and then red. In the eyes of outsiders, the Eastern Depot was a den of iniquity with overwhelming power. They oppressed people, and no one dared to negotiate with them.

Today, Zhou Yang not only negotiated the price, but also put the price tag on their heads.

Hands-on?

Wang Xiezi glanced at Zhou Yang. He dared not. He knew Gui Jianchou's strength very well. Gui Jianchou was a skilled fighter who could withstand fifty moves from him. But now, this man had been carried back by Zhou Yang like a chicken. Zhou Yang's strength was unfathomable. These people at the East Depot gate would only be throwing their lives away if they went up against him.

But what if we just accept it without taking action?

Where is our dignity now? Where is the authority of the Eastern Depot?

"We'll give you the money," Wang Xiezi spat out through gritted teeth. "You leave the person here first."

"no."

Zhou Yang refused without even thinking.

Wang Xiezi's pupils contracted: "What do you mean?"

"I told you, I'm a businessman." Zhou Yang looked at him calmly. "I don't want money."

"Then what do you want?" Wang Xiezi asked in a deep voice.

"I want something." Zhou Yang held up one finger, "something worth three hundred thousand taels of silver."

"explain!"

Zhou Yang smiled. He took a step closer, his voice very low, so that only Wang Xiezi could hear him.

"I want the list of all the Eastern Depot's undercover agents in the capital."

Wang Xiezi suddenly took a step back, as if he had been bitten by a snake. For the first time, a look of horror appeared on his face.

List of undercover agents!

That was the very foundation of the Eastern Depot. It was the eyes and ears of the secret agents throughout the city. With this list, the Eastern Depot became blind and deaf in the capital. This was more deadly than killing them all.

This Zhou Yang, what he really wants isn't money. He wants the Eastern Depot's lives!

Wang Xiezi stared intently at Zhou Yang, his eyes blazing with murderous intent. But he ultimately restrained himself. He knew that if he made a move, this madman would definitely dare to snap Gui Jianchou's neck in the street. He couldn't afford to lose.

"You wait," Wang Xiezi spat out through gritted teeth, then turned and strode into the mansion. The gate slammed shut, leaving Zhou Yang and the group of Imperial Guards standing outside.

Zhou Yang wasn't in a hurry. He just stood there in the rain, patiently waiting.

Before long, the news spread. First, it reached the local residents, then the passing merchants, and then the spies from various government offices. The news spread like wildfire, covering every street and alley of the capital within half an hour.

There are many versions, and they are becoming increasingly mysterious.

Some say that Zhou, a centurion of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, single-handedly razed the Eastern Depot branch with his sword.

Some say that he beat the head of the Eastern Depot, known as "Ghost-Sorrow," to his knees and begged for mercy, and even forced the Eastern Depot to sign an unequal treaty.

Some say that Zhou Yang is not human at all, but a god of punishment descended to earth, specifically to deal with the monsters of the Eastern Depot.

In the teahouse, the storyteller spoke with great enthusiasm, his spittle flying everywhere. The audience slapped their thighs and cheered continuously.

On this day, Zhou Yang's name became inextricably linked with the word "mad." A madman who dared to demand exorbitant sums from the Eastern Depot. A madman who utterly humiliated the Eastern Depot.

crazy.

Everyone thinks so.

……

An hour later, the gates of the Eastern Depot opened again.

It was still Wang Xiezi. He looked even more haggard. He was carrying a tightly wrapped oilcloth bag in his hand.

He walked up to Zhou Yang and handed him the oilcloth package.

"Here's the stuff," he said hoarsely. "Now you should release the person, shouldn't you?"

"It's a pleasure working with you."

Zhou Yang took the oilcloth bundle and weighed it in his hand. He didn't open it; he simply stuffed it into his pocket. Then, he turned to the side and gave the captains a meaningful look.

"Take it away and send it to Chief Wang."

Two captains carried the door panel and, with a thud, threw Ghost-Seeing Sorrow onto the threshold of the Eastern Depot. The man rolled through the door like a tattered sack.

Wang Xiezi didn't even glance at Gui Jianchou, but stared intently at Zhou Yang.

Zhou Yang smiled at him. That smile was glaringly harsh.

"Boss Wang, you're welcome to come again next time you're doing business."

After saying that, he turned and left with two captains.

His figure disappeared into the rain, dashing and unrestrained.

Wang Xiezi stood at the door, his body ice-cold. He looked down at the mud stain on Zhou Yang's hand when he had stuffed the oilcloth bundle into his arms. That mud stain felt like a branding iron, searing into his heart.

He knew that from this day forward, the Eastern Depot would have no secrets left in the capital.

……

By the time they returned to the Northern Garrison Command, it was already dusk.

Zhou Yang entered his room, where Qin Shuang was already waiting for him. A lamp was lit on the table, its warm yellow light illuminating her cool face. The tea had gone cold. She had clearly been waiting for a long time.

"You're back." Qin Shuang looked at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions.

"Um."

"You really went to the Eastern Depot?"

"I've gone."

"Did you ask them for the list of informants?"

"Um."

"Did they give it to you?"

"Given it."

Zhou Yang's answer was simple and concise. He walked to the table, poured himself a glass of cold tea, and drank it down in one gulp. Then, he stretched out his hand and opened his palm.

There are some small wounds on the palm of my hand, left from the previous battle.

He closed his eyes and silently calculated in his mind.

It burned for about seven months of its lifespan.

In exchange, they obtained all the secrets of their formidable enemy, Ghost Sorrow, including his martial arts style, his weaknesses, and his background.

More importantly, in return, they gained access to the intelligence network that the Eastern Depot had been operating in the capital for decades.

The value of this network is immeasurable. It means that from now on, the entire capital city will be virtually transparent to Zhou Yang. No matter how small the disturbance, it will not escape his notice.

This is an incredibly good deal.

Thinking of this, Zhou Yang couldn't help but curl his lips into a slight smile. He opened his eyes, a glint of excitement flashing in them. It was the kind of light that only appears when a hunter sees his prey or a merchant discovers a huge business opportunity.

Qin Shuang looked at him like this.

I feel relieved, yet also a little scared.

She felt relieved because Zhou Yang had truly succeeded. He had intimidated the Eastern Depot, clearing a huge obstacle for the Northern Garrison and for her. From now on, their actions in the capital would be much more convenient.

She was terrified because Zhou Yang had been too reckless. He was like a gambler dancing on a knife's edge, betting his life on an almost impossible victory. If anything had gone wrong, he would have been the one lying on that door panel today, carried back by others.

"You..." Qin Shuang opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but found that she couldn't utter a word. Blame him? No use. Praise him? That didn't seem right either.

Zhou Yang looked up and met her gaze.

He smiled, but there was no warmth in that smile.

"Don't worry," he said. "It's a great deal."

Qin Shuang looked at his profile under the lamplight. His young face was eerily calm. She suddenly felt that she understood him less and less. And she was becoming more and more... dependent on him.