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

After the rain, the watermarks remaining on the city wall quietly spread under the lamplight.

The emperor's father-in-law sat on a carved armchair, gently stroking the spout of the bronze pot with the back of his hand.

The carpet beneath my feet was slightly damp, causing the fibers to tremble gently.

The steward hurried in and whispered, "Report back, Zhou Yang has left the Embroidered Uniform Guard."

"Leave?" The Grand Tutor raised an eyebrow and lightly tapped the lid of the teapot with his fingertip.

"And he also used some of the hush money," the butler added, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

The emperor's father-in-law's lips curled up, his laughter soft yet carrying a metallic crispness.

"Good, just what I wanted." He put down the pot and stood up.

"He's a dull knife now," the Grand Tutor muttered to himself, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the lamp.

"No longer sharp, but still usable for chopping wood."

He turned and walked toward the hidden door of the side room.

Behind the door were densely packed scrolls, their pages fluttering slightly in the breeze.

The emperor's father-in-law took out a jade token embroidered with gold patterns and gently tossed it onto the table.

"Give this order to your trusted confidant." His voice was deep, yet authoritative.

His trusted confidant was named Nie Feng, and he was as slender as a willow tree, acting silently and quietly.

Nie Feng accepted the order, nodded, and then withdrew.

At the end of the passage, a bronze lamp swayed slightly, its flame flickering like a heartbeat.

The emperor's father-in-law paused briefly by the lamp, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Let the Dharma King know that Zhou Yang has settled down," he whispered.

As Nie Feng departed, his cloak swayed gently in the wind.

The rain outside the door stopped, and water droplets dripped from the green tiles, creating a crisp rhythm.

Inside the secret room, the red glow of paper lanterns reflected on the wall, revealing a landscape painting.

The mountain peak in the painting is shrouded in mist, as if hiding countless eyes.

The emperor's father-in-law turned around and looked at the hidden compartment in the corner of the wall.

Behind the checkered pattern, a thin veil fluttered gently, revealing a figure faintly.

That was the Dharma King's informant, named Mo Han.

Mo Han was dressed in a black robe, with a dark stone dagger at his waist, and moved with light steps.

He moved around the room without uttering a sound.

The hem of the black robe cast a long shadow under the lamplight.

Mo Han's eyes, like cold stars, scanned his surroundings.

He stood by the door frame, holding a thin rope lightly in his hand.

"Report this matter," the Grand Tutor said in a deep voice.

Mo Han nodded, without making a sound.

He turned and stepped out of the secret room, the hidden door closing silently behind him.

From the report just now, the Grand Tutor has already recorded all of Zhou Yang's changes in his mind.

He remembered Zhou Yang's eyes, that sharp gaze that seemed to see right through people.

I also remember the creases on the paper crane in Zhou Yang's hand, which hinted that he had a backup plan.

The emperor's father-in-law chuckled, the smile hidden deep in his brows.

"He thought he was a traveler who had reached the end of the road, but in reality he was still in my game."

He returned to the main hall, sat back in the armchair, and stroked the bronze pot once more.

The wine in the pot was still warm, its aroma faint, as if reminding him that time was still flowing.

Suddenly, there was a soft knocking sound from outside the door.

It was Nie Feng who returned, bringing back a reply from the Dharma King.

On the letter, the Dharma King's handwriting was as sharp as if carved with a knife:

"Zhou Yang has settled down, so alchemy at the Star Observatory can proceed as usual."

The emperor's father-in-law flipped through the book, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want."

He folded the letter and tucked it into his sleeve.

He then stood up and walked towards the stone steps of the back hall.

On the stone steps, the flickering lamplight illuminated his steady steps.

Stepping out of the main hall, a night breeze caressed my face, carrying the faint light of a distant lighthouse.

The emperor's father-in-law looked up at the starry sky.

The stars were sparse, but one was exceptionally bright, as if watching from the shadows.

His lips twitched slightly, revealing a satisfied smile.

"Zhou Yang's show has only just begun."

Then he turned around and went into the hidden door in the alley.

Behind the door was a stone staircase leading underground, dark and silent.

With each step, the echo reverberated through the stone walls.

At the end of the stairs was a spacious, enclosed room, in the center of which sat a huge obsidian stone.

The stone surface was cold and austere, faintly revealing a deep blue light.

The emperor's father-in-law stood in front of the stone and gently touched it with his finger.

My fingertips felt slightly cool, as if a thin stream was flowing between them.

He closed his eyes and whispered in his heart, "Use their strength to gain my advantage."

At this moment, Mo Han reappeared, standing silently at the door.

He didn't speak, but simply handed the thin rope in his hand to the emperor's father-in-law.

A dark red bead hung from a thin string, shimmering with a faint blood-red light.

The emperor's father-in-law accepted it, his smile deepening.

"Good eye," he said, his voice like the tolling of an ancient bell.

He then dropped the bead into the crack in the obsidian.

The crack was instantly filled with crimson light, and ripples appeared on the stone surface.

Mo Han's brows twitched slightly, but he dared not utter a sound.

He knew that every move the emperor's father-in-law made was part of a larger strategic plan.

The lights in the stone chamber appeared even dimmer under the glow of blood.

The emperor's father-in-law turned around and looked into the depths of the secret chamber.

There are several ancient books piled up there, recording the power struggles and blood debts of past dynasties.

He asked himself softly, "Can I control Zhou Yang's next move?"

The answer is in my hand, in that dark red bead.

The emperor's father-in-law raised his hand, brushing away the dust in mid-air, revealing a gold medal with a dragon pattern.

The gold medal trembled slightly under the lights, as if waiting.

"Zhou Yang," the Grand Tutor whispered, "you think you're a lone swordsman, but in reality you're just a thin slice that I can cut."

Then, he turned around, stepped out of the secret chamber, and left the sound of the stone door gently closing.

In the darkness of night, the shadows of the city walls were whipped up by the wind, resembling the marks left by countless blades.

Beneath this shadow, the Emperor's father-in-law's laughter echoed in the empty corridor, cold and lingering.

Dark as ink.

Zhou Yang's figure emerged from the alley, like a drop of water flowing into a river, and silently returned to his small courtyard.

He did not go directly to the observatory.

The plan is good, but not perfect.

The Emperor's father-in-law, the Chen family, and the unseen guards at the observatory—any mistake in any link could lead to utter ruin.

He closed the courtyard gate, the hinges making a slight groan.

Zhou Yang leaned against the door panel and stood there for a moment.

The night wind carried a chill, ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead. He raised his head, his gaze piercing the darkness, settling steadily on the north.

There, the outline of the observatory under the starry night resembles a lurking giant beast.

With his current abilities, he can force his way in, but it would be very difficult for him to enter and exit quietly.

Qin Shuang's smoke could confuse vision, but it couldn't confuse the hearing and intuition of those top experts.

He needs a foolproof solution.

A way to turn him into a real phantom.

Zhou Yang walked to the stone table in the courtyard and sat down. He stretched out his hand, his fingertips gently tracing the cool stone surface.

No hesitation.

He had already considered it countless times in his mind. The risks were enormous, but the rewards were equally enormous.

This deal is a good one.

"system."

Zhou Yang silently recited in his heart.

"Combustion lifespan: ten years."

The moment he finished speaking, there was no golden light, no strange sound.

Only extreme cold.

A bone-chilling cold exploded from his heart, like an invisible icicle piercing him. The feeling wasn't cold, but a sense of nothingness—a sense of life force being abruptly drained.

It's not a gentle, continuous flow of water; it's a breach in the dam, a flash flood.

Zhou Yang's body trembled violently, and his vision went black for a moment. He instinctively pressed his left hand tightly against his chest, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The familiar emptiness in my chest was torn apart at this moment.

It felt as if someone had ripped a piece out of his body, leaving a hole through which cold wind howled. He could even "hear" the wind rushing through it.

He was breathing heavily, each breath sounding like pulling a broken bellows, hoarse and labored.

Several breaths later, the agonizing emptiness subsided slightly.

Zhou Yang slowly raised his right hand, trembling slightly as he touched his temple.

What my fingertips touched was no longer smooth black hair.

One strand was cold and rough, carrying a texture that didn't belong to someone his age.

He knew without even looking.

Those are white hairs.

A wisp of silver thread reflected a faint yet pale light in the deep night.

The price came so quickly and so directly.

Zhou Yang forced a smile, a smile more painful than a grimace. He didn't care about his appearance, but the feeling of being stripped of his life was truly awful.

At that moment, along with that feeling of emptiness, something completely opposite appeared.

Cool, vast, like a galaxy.

A torrent of emotions flooded his mind.

There were no words, no diagrams, and no mysterious methods.

It was a kind of... instinct.

How to breathe so that your breath blends completely into the night breeze, without leaving a ripple.

How to take a step so that your footsteps land on the thinnest dust without making a sound.

How to bend the body to hide all the contours of a human being, turning into a complete shadow.

Every shadow in the corner was no longer darkness to him, but a path he could walk through. The sliver of light under the eaves was no longer an obstacle, but a backdrop to conceal his figure.

He seemed to have become the master of this courtyard in an instant.

Light, shadow, air, and dust have all become part of his body.

"The Unseen".

He didn't even need to "learn" or "practice" this top-level stealth technique.

What one gains by burning ten years of lifespan is directly reaching the state of "perfection".

It is the simultaneous cognition of the body and the soul.

Zhou Yang slowly stood up. The emptiness in his chest still lingered, like a thorn stuck in his heart, but he stood firmly.

He needs to suppress this lingering effect.

If you go out in this state, let alone sneak in, you might collapse after taking just a couple of steps.

He closed his eyes and focused his energy into his dantian.

The internal energy of the "Innate Yang Technique" began to circulate slowly.

If the void left by the burning of lifespan is ice, a frigid temperature of minus 100 degrees Celsius, then the internal energy of Dingyang Gong is a red-hot branding iron.

A warm current rose from his dantian, like a small sun, and began to circulate in his meridians.

Wherever it passed, the biting chill was dispelled, and the tearing emptiness was gradually filled.

This process was not pleasant.

The clash between hot and cold turned his body into a battlefield.

Fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead, and his lips were somewhat pale.

But Zhou Yang's breathing gradually became steady and long amidst this torment.

He controlled the internal energy of Dingyang Gong, like an experienced craftsman carefully repairing the wounds left after life was plundered.

He doesn't want a complete recovery; that's impossible.

He just needs to stabilize his condition at a level where he can fight.

About an incense stick later, Zhou Yang opened his eyes.

His face was still somewhat pale, but his eyes had regained their calm and stillness. The emptiness in his chest had been suppressed, turning into a dull, bearable pain.

His breathing was no different from usual.

All right.

enough.

Zhou Yang's gaze swept across the entire courtyard.

Now it's time to examine the results.

He moved.

There was no warning.

Just a moment ago, he was standing by the stone table.

The next moment, his figure disappeared.

It's not fast, it's vanishing into thin air.

Only a faint, almost invisible humanoid afterimage remained in place. The afterimage remained in the motion of raising a hand to touch its temple, before slowly fading away after half a second.

At the other end of the courtyard, in the shadow of the water vat, Zhou Yang's figure reappeared.

He stood there, blending into the darkness. If you didn't look closely, you would only think that the shadow was deeper than the rest.

He did not pause.

The figure blurred again.

This time, three afterimages appeared simultaneously in the center of the courtyard. One headed towards the door, one towards the corner of the wall, and one leaped onto the roof.

The three afterimages moved differently, each as if they were real people.

But the real Zhou Yang had already silently pressed himself against the trunk of the old locust tree. His body was pressed tightly against the rough bark, his breathing synchronized with the sound of the wind.

The three afterimages in the courtyard vanished like wisps of smoke a few breaths later.

Zhou Yang slid off the tree trunk and landed without making a sound.

He looked at his hands.

He raised his hand again and touched the newly grown white hair.

"The Shadowless Trail" - a perfect ending.

enough.

The observatory's security was no longer an impenetrable fortress in his eyes.

Instead, it's a network riddled with loopholes.

He can squeeze through any gap.

Zhou Yang turned around and looked north again.

The observatory's outline remains serene.

But at this moment, in his eyes, the giant beast was already asleep, and its entire body was full of openings that could be exploited.

He took a deep breath, and a slight stinging sensation came from the emptiness in his chest with each breath.

He simply lowered his head, straightened his collar, and carefully hid the unsightly strand of white hair inside.

Then, his figure flickered and disappeared into the shadows of the courtyard once again.

This time, he left no afterimage.