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

The holy envoy's palm strike stirred up dust, sharp as a knife.

Zhou Yang raised his hand to meet the attack, his finger bones shattering in his palm.

Blood spurted from between his fingers, staining the black robe on his chest red.

He stood tall with his chest out, a fierce glint in his eyes.

"Come on," he growled, his voice muffled deep within his chest.

The holy envoy's palm strike descended once more, like a mountain collapsing and shattering the heavens and earth.

Zhou Yang leaned forward, his chest thudding as he was struck.

The pain of shattered bones felt like being cut by a knife, but it did not deter him.

He stared intently at the envoy's chest, where his lower abdomen rose and fell slightly.

"One punch for one life," he murmured to himself, placing his palm on the spot.

The fingertips touched that warm flesh, and a surge of heat rushed through them instantly.

"Let me show you what a burning lifespan really means!"

His voice was deep, yet it resonated like thunder.

The black jade ring shimmered on my fingertip, its blue light crackling and sparkling.

Zhou Yang took a deep breath, and the fire of life force boiled within his body.

His lifespan was like a candle that had burned out, dripping away drop by drop.

The blue light transformed into blazing flames, shooting straight into the Holy Envoy's body from his fingertips.

The envoy frowned slightly, sensing a countercurrent.

That blazing flame was not a fire of refining, but a reversal of life.

His internal energy was reversing, and his cultivation technique was like a rewinding film.

"This...is impossible..." the Holy Envoy hissed, his lips twitching.

The magic sword in his hand suddenly lost its color, and the sword energy turned into wisps of smoke.

The lifespan within the body is ignited, like a lamp that has burned out.

Flames spread through his veins, turning his skin crimson.

Each breath felt like burning embers.

A look of terror flashed in his eyes, reflecting Zhou Yang's smile.

"Your power is merely a borrowed lifespan."

Zhou Yang's voice was bloodshot, and his hands trembled uncontrollably.

The ring's light grew even more intense, as if it would burn the entire mountain to ashes.

The envoy's body began to crumble, his bones cracking and popping.

He clutched his chest with both hands, and blood gushed out like a fountain.

"I...no..." he cried out, his voice drowned out by the blazing fire.

In an instant, the holy envoy's entire body turned to ashes and scattered with the wind.

The lingering black smoke in the ashes was swept away by the wind and dissipated into the night.

A piece of broken jade rolled on the ground, emitting a faint, cold light.

Zhou Yang's right arm was broken and bleeding profusely.

His chest was still heaving violently, and the flame of his life was almost gone.

He leaned against the gravel, his back pressed against the chilling wall.

A faint smile played on his lips, and a glint still flickered in his eyes.

"Interest paid off," he murmured to himself, his voice like the distant tolling of a bell.

The blood congealed at the fingertip, forming a small patch of obsidian.

He looked up at the palace gate, where moonlight danced on the broken stones.

The wind outside the door carried the stench of blood, like an undercurrent about to surge in.

Zhou Yang gently withdrew his hand, and the black jade ring returned to its dull state.

His lifespan was almost over, but in return he was reduced to ashes by the Holy Envoy.

This time, he used his own wounds to create a crack in his destiny.

He knew that the price of the next deal would be even bloodier.

He slowly stood up and staggered towards the outside of the hall.

Each step was accompanied by the sound of bones cracking, like the beating of a drum.

The night swallowed his figure, with only the black ring gleaming in the dim light.

"Once again," he murmured, his voice a mixture of fervor and calculation.

"I will continue to add money to this project."

On the verge of life and death, Zhou Yang's smile grew increasingly cold and stern.

He stepped into the darkness, leaving behind only a patch of dim bloodstains.

The remaining tiles of the main hall trembled in the wind, and ashes surged to the ground like a tide.

When the remaining disciples of the Heavenly Principle Sect saw the Holy Envoy fall, their eyes instantly lost their light.

They called out to each other, staggering as they rushed toward the secret passage outside the hall.

Zhou Yang stood on the remains of the altar, his brows slightly furrowed.

The bloodstains on his chest were still seeping out, but they did not obstruct his vision.

He raised his hand, and a low, hoarse command slipped from his throat.

"Alienators, pursue them."

Several of the cultists he had modified rushed out instantly, their claws flashing with a blood-red light.

Their skin is covered with protruding, hard spikes, like the scales on the back of a wild beast.

In their panic, the disabled survivors crashed into the walls, their screams echoing through the stone chamber.

One of the apprentices fell down, still clutching a blood-stained talisman in his hand.

The mutant bent down, its sharp claws slashing open its chest.

The talisman danced with the blood, instantly turning into black smoke.

Another apprentice tried to climb over the rubble, but the ground beneath his feet collapsed.

He fell into the abyss, his screams swallowed by the stone walls.

There was no pity in Zhou Yang's eyes, only calculation.

He knew that every fallen enemy represented a recovery of his lifespan.

The mutants moved like a tidal wave, engulfing all those who hid.

The number of remaining believers dwindled rapidly, leaving only a few panicked faces.

One of them clutched a dark red jade pendant tightly in his hand, trembling as he stuffed it into his sleeve.

The mutant rushed forward and slammed down with a palm strike, shattering the jade pendant into pieces.

The last two apprentices tried to crawl into the crack in the altar.

Hot steam seeped from the cracks, scorching their skin.

They screamed and fell to the ground, the steam drying the blood.

The battlefield finally fell silent, with only ashes swirling gently in the breeze.

Zhou Yang walked to the center of the altar, the gravel under his feet making a soft rustling sound.

He bent down and gently stroked the remaining ashes with his fingers.

Among the ashes was a piece of dull metal, shaped like an ancient token.

The token has mottled patterns engraved on its surface, with an inverted rhombus at its center.

Zhou Yang picked up the token and examined it carefully.

The words "Vice Leader" are faintly discernible among the lines, but the characters have been eroded by bloodstains.

This token is a symbol of the high-ranking members of the Heavenly Principle Sect.

He tucked the token into his sleeve and continued his search.

Hidden in a corner of the ruins was a small cloth bag, the outer layer of which had long since rotted.

Opening the cloth bag revealed a thick stack of brocade and several round silver ingots.

The silver ingots are engraved with ancient symbols and are so heavy they make your palms feel cold.

The brocade was stained red with blood, but the delicate patterns were still discernible.

Zhou Yang stuffed the silver ingot into his pocket, while the bamboo slip was rolled up and tied to his belt.

He looked up and gazed at the distant valley.

The lingering sound of the wind could still be heard in the valley, like an unfinished murmur.

Zhou Yang smiled faintly, a barely perceptible curve appearing at the corners of his mouth.

"This matter is finally coming to an end," he murmured to himself, his voice echoing in the empty stone chamber.

Then he turned and left, his footsteps leaving faint traces on the ruins.

As they left, the mutated one remained standing by the altar, watching over the surroundings.

Their eyes, like lava, gleamed with a cold light.

Zhou Yang looked back, the token in his palm slightly warm.

He knew that the vice-leader's token in his hand meant that the power structure within the Heavenly Principle Sect had been torn apart.

As long as someone is interested in it, a new struggle will brew in the shadows.

As Zhou Yang stepped onto the stone path leading to the outside world, his silhouette was clearly illuminated by the dim lamplight.

The wind blew in through the hole, carrying away the last traces of blood.

At the end of the stone path was a winding mountain road, with withered branches swaying in the wind beside it.

He didn't stop walking, and the wound in his chest was still throbbing.

With each step, he felt the heat of his blood flowing through his body.

Night had fallen, and the stars were sparse.

There was no fear in Zhou Yang's eyes, only anticipation for the next deal.

He gently touched his pocket and felt the weight of the silver ingot.

This harvest is enough to sustain him as he continues to burn through his lifespan.

But he knew that the equivalent price would be imposed again sooner or later.

At the end of the mountain road was an abandoned inn, its lights dim.

Zhou Yang pushed open the door and sat on the worn-out wooden chair.

He placed the token on the table, and casually spread out the silver ingots and brocade.

The shadows cast by the lamplight were stretched long, like two intersecting blades.

He raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the edge of the token, and felt a slight vibration.

"Fine," he chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Another good deal."

The night breeze blowing in through the window brought with it the dim red glow of a distant campfire.

Zhou Yang withdrew his gaze and fixed it on the distant mountain peak.

A faint crimson light could be seen in the dark clouds atop the mountain.

He stood up, packed all his belongings, and prepared to embark on another journey.

Footsteps echoed on the wooden planks of the inn, like knocking on the door of fate.

No one knows the true value hidden behind this vice-leader's token.

Zhou Yang turned and left, the door closing gently, leaving the room silent.

The sound of bells echoed in the distant mountains, as if reminding him that every cleaning is a rebirth.