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

The wind in the valley carried dust, rustling the grass. Zhou Yang stood on the rocky cliff at the foot of the mountain, squinting at the earthen slope ahead. Several dilapidated wooden stakes protruded from the slope, with strips of blood-red cloth hanging from them. That was the bandits' camp.

He gently tapped the silver ingot in his hand against the back of his knife, producing a crisp sound. Then he took an ancient token from his pocket; the token's edge was engraved with withered branches, and its dark red light shimmered in the twilight.

"Hand over the token and silver ingots, and I'll give you the map." Zhou Yang's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable force.

Around the campfire, several men in black whispered amongst themselves. The old bandit leader looked up, his brow furrowed, a glint of greed in his eyes. His beard was stained with blood, and his voice was low and menacing: "What you want isn't just ordinary blueprints."

Zhou Yang handed over the silver ingot, which gleamed silvery-white in the firelight. The old bandit took it and examined it carefully. Then, he reached out and snatched the token, stuffing it into his sleeve without a word.

"This map contains everything you want," the old bandit said, taking out a leather scroll from behind his back.

The scroll was carefully unfurled, revealing a hand-drawn map of an underground network. Intricate lines intertwined, marking layers of passages. Two prominent red characters stood out: "Forbidden Medicine Vault" and "Sacred Envoy Resurrection Altar." The two points were connected by a thick line, pointing to a winding secret passage.

Zhou Yang leaned closer to examine it, his fingertips lightly touching the rough texture of the paper. He raised an eyebrow slightly: "What exactly is hidden inside this forbidden drug vault?"

The old bandit smiled sinisterly: "It's said that's where the Heavenly Principle Sect refines forbidden medicines, and even Blackwood dares not approach it. A single drop of the medicine inside can double a person's lifespan."

Zhou Yang nodded, a calculating glint in his eyes: "If I sell this map to someone else, how much will you get?"

The old bandit shook his head and said coldly, "We don't sell, we only buy."

After saying this, the old bandit pulled out a small talisman from his waist. Strange patterns were engraved on the surface of the talisman, and a faint blue light danced in the night. He quietly affixed the talisman to the back of the leather scroll, then discreetly put it back into his sleeve.

"Remember, once this talisman is activated, anyone who touches the map will be tracked." The old bandit's voice seemed to come from deep within the cave.

Zhou Yang frowned slightly, but did not show any surprise: "Then I'll put the map away and use it when needed."

After the exchange, the old bandit had his followers collect the silver ingots, while he clutched the token tightly in his hand. Then, he turned and left, leaving behind a lingering scent of smoke.

As night deepened, the campfire slowly died down. Zhou Yang rolled up the leather scroll and placed it at the bottom of his backpack. On the other side of the backpack was the lifespan token he had just used. Although the token had lost most of its luster, a faint energy still flickered within it.

He stood at the edge of the valley, gazing at the distant mountain peaks. The peaks' outlines were shrouded in a light mist, like a massive barrier. His heart was calm, filled only with the clear sense of approaching his goal step by step.

Back at the temporary camp, Zhou Yang spread the map on the simple wooden table. The flickering oil lamp cast dappled shadows. Every passage on the map seemed like a lurking danger. The forbidden medicine vault was marked deep underground, surrounded by dense rock; the Holy Envoy's resurrection altar was beneath a giant rock, its walls inscribed with ancient incantations.

Zhou Yang's fingers lightly traced the markings of the prohibited drug warehouse: "If I could get my hands on the drugs there, I might be able to save a few more lives."

He then looked at the altar, his brow furrowed: "The resurrection altar? What kind of ritual did the higher-ups of the Heavenly Principle Sect perform here? Perhaps they can use this to stir up internal conflicts."

Just as he was pondering, a slight buzzing sound came from behind the talisman. The talisman's blue light flickered briefly before dimming. Zhou Yang didn't react immediately; he simply reached out and gently pressed his hand against the center of the talisman.

A subtle vibration traveled through his fingertips and throughout his body. It was the activation signal of the tracking talisman; the hidden pursuers had already laid their trap. A smile flashed in Zhou Yang's eyes, and he withdrew his hand: "Alright, I'm marked. When they come, I'll show them my 'Money-Adding Hermit' techniques."

In the darkness, the wind rustled the grass, sounding like a distant bugle call. Zhou Yang slung his backpack over his shoulder and quickly set off on his way home. The mountain path was rugged, but it did not hinder his progress. Each step he took made a crisp sound as he walked on the rocks.

The bandits' camp was receding into the distance behind them, only the map still emitting a faint glow in their backpacks. Zhou Yang muttered to himself, "When I reach the forbidden medicine warehouse, I'll burn my lifespan; when I reach the altar, I'll see how the higher-ups of the Heavenly Principle Sect destroy themselves."

He no longer looked back; only the road ahead unfolded beneath his feet. The twinkling starlight illuminated his lonely yet resolute figure.

The mountain road was more difficult to travel than I had imagined.

Zhou Yang stopped and caught his breath. The air was thick with the smell of earth and decaying leaves. He inhaled, and the stench filled his lungs. Heavy on his back was the backpack he'd traded with the bandits. It contained little, but it weighed heavily on his mind.

He took out the map.

The parchment felt rough to the touch, and the edges were curled. The lines on it were hand-drawn, crooked and uneven. But in the darkness, those lines emitted a faint glow—a grayish-white light that didn't illuminate the surroundings, only enough for Zhou Yang to see the path beneath his feet.

He had been to this area marked on the map before. It was a desolate mountain. The locals called it "Broken Dragon Mountain." Legend had it that a dragon vein had broken here, so the mountain was filled with yin energy, and no one wanted to go near it. It was perfect for hiding things.

Zhou Yang examined the terrain. Ahead lay a steep cliff face, covered in vines and moss, seemingly blending seamlessly into the mountainside. The destination marked on the map was right here.

He put away the map and walked to the stone wall.

It was icy cold to the touch. The moss was slippery, like the skin of some kind of creature. He parted the thick vines, revealing stone underneath. Grayish-black, quite ordinary. He tapped it with his knuckles.

"Knock, knock."

The sound was muffled. The back was solid.

Zhou Yang frowned. The bandits wouldn't lie to him. The map's material was unusual. He examined the map more closely; the glowing endpoint was marked on a strange symbol. It looked like a vortex, or perhaps an eye.

He held up the map, letting its greyish-white light shine onto the stone wall.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the vines, flickering on the stone wall. When the light shone on a certain area, the swirling symbol on the map suddenly lit up. The light was no longer grayish-white, but turned into a faint crimson hue.

right here.

Zhou Yang's heart skipped a beat. He put away the map, reached out, and felt around in that area. His fingers traced the rough rock surface, but the texture remained unchanged. He pressed down hard, but the rock wall didn't budge.

wrong.

He remembered the token. That "key".

He pulled the black iron token from his pocket. The token felt heavy in his hand, and the emblem of the Heavenly Principle Sect on it seemed to be staring at him. He followed the map and affixed the token to the stone wall.

There was no sound when the token touched the stone.

However, a chill ran down his fingers and spread to his entire palm.

Zhou Yang tried to pull his hand back, but found that the token seemed to be stuck to the stone wall. A force was pulling him in, making him unable to move.

Then, the scene before him changed.

On the stone wall, centered on the token, streaks of red lines emerged. They weren't painted on; they looked like blood seeping from the stone. These lines began to spread, wander, and connect with each other. They weren't growing randomly, but rather constructing some kind of pattern.

Zhou Yang's breathing softened.

He recognized some of the symbols formed by those lines. They were forbidden runes from within the Heavenly Principle Sect. Fang Tian had once taught him a little about them, saying they were a language used to communicate with evil gods. But the runes before him were more complex and bizarre than any he had ever seen before.

The blood-red veins grew brighter, turning from dark red to scarlet. The light wasn't dazzling, but it had a viscous quality, as if the air itself had become heavy. The chirping of insects around them had vanished sometime during the night. The entire valley fell into a deathly silence. Only the rustling of the wind through the treetops could be heard, like a whisper.

The blood-red symbols were complete, covering the entire stone wall. They resembled a giant, living, blood-red spiderweb. The token, at the center of the web, emitted a low hum. The hum wasn't loud, but it penetrated directly into his mind.

Zhou Yang felt a wave of dizziness.

He bit his tongue, the sharp pain bringing him back to his senses. He knew this was a sign that the traps had been activated. In ancient tombs, traps often meant death from the very first step.

He did not back down. To back down would mean all his previous efforts were in vain.

He stared intently at the stone wall, his other hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. His muscles were tense, ready to pounce and dodge at any moment.

The light from the blood talisman converged at its center. A beam of solidified red light shot out from the token's location, heading towards the opposite side. The beam was very thin, like a single strand of hair.

Zhou Yang looked in the direction of the beam of light.

The beam of light landed on a patch of ground about ten paces ahead. It was overgrown with weeds and showed no signs of anything unusual.

The moment the red light touched the ground, there was no explosion or collapse. The weeds withered and turned black at a visible speed, turning into a clump of ashes. Immediately afterwards, a straight crack appeared, starting from the point where the red light struck, and extended towards the stone wall beneath Zhou Yang's feet.

"Click..."

The crisp cracking sound was like ice breaking.

The crack grew wider and deeper. It was pitch black and bottomless.

Zhou Yang's back was already soaked with cold sweat. This mechanism was more domineering than he had imagined. It didn't just open a door; it cut a path through the ground.

The crack extended all the way down the stone wall. The red light disappeared, and the buzzing stopped. The blood runes on the stone wall instantly dimmed and shrank back into the stone, as if they had never existed.

The black iron token fell to the ground with a "thud".

Zhou Yang quickly bent down to pick up the token and stuffed it back into his pocket. His hands were still trembling slightly. Not from fear, but from the force he had just experienced, which had made his blood and qi somewhat unstable.

He walked to the edge of the crack and looked down.

A cold wind blew up from below, carrying the stench of decay and an indescribable medicinal smell. The wind was dry, unlike that of a natural cave.

The entrance is below.

Without hesitation, he took a tinderbox and a torch from his backpack. The torch was lit, and its orange light dispelled some of the darkness. He threw the torch down into the crack.

The torch fell about five or six zhang (approximately 10-12 meters) before landing with a "plop." The light illuminated the scene below. It wasn't soil, but a smooth, flat flagstone ground.

He took a deep breath, grabbed the edge of the crack, and jumped down.

It landed very quietly, without making a loud noise. He picked up the torch and held it up to look around.

He was standing on a descending stone staircase. The staircase was paved with huge bluestones, each step wide and smooth. The walls were also made of the same stone, fitted together seamlessly. The flickering firelight cast his long shadow on the wall.

The smell in the air grew stronger. It was a peculiar medicinal smell, not the usual kind of herbal medicine, but more like the smell of some kind of animal offal being boiled, mixed with the stench of blood and decay.

Zhou Yang gripped the torch tightly. He walked down the stone steps.

The steps were long and turned two corners. The surroundings were eerily quiet, with only the echo of his footsteps. After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the view suddenly opened up before him.

At the end of the stone steps was a huge circular stone chamber.

In the center of the stone chamber stood a three-tiered altar. The altar, also constructed of bluestone, was covered with densely packed runes. Unlike the blood runes on the stone walls, these runes were carved in, their lines deeper, conveying a sense of ancient antiquity and vicissitude.

At the top of the altar, something was placed. It was too far away, and the firelight flickered, so I couldn't see it clearly.

Zhou Yang did not rush to approach. His gaze swept across the entire stone chamber.

At regular intervals along the walls of the stone chamber, there was a niche. The niches were pitch black, their contents unknown. The floor was spotless, free of dust and debris, as if someone had just cleaned it.

This set off alarm bells in his mind.

Too much cleanliness is actually abnormal.

He walked around the edge of the altar, keeping a safe distance. The firelight shone through, and he finally saw what was at the top of the altar.

It was a stone coffin.

The lid of the stone coffin was not closed and was tilted to one side. The coffin was empty.

Zhou Yang walked to the foot of the altar and stopped. He could sense a faint energy fluctuation in the air. The source was this altar.

He recalled his plan. "Once we reach the altar, I'll see how the higher-ups of the Heavenly Principle Sect destroy themselves."

This altar is clearly an important stronghold of the Heavenly Principle Sect. The bandit leader said it was the entrance to the forbidden medicine vault. Now it seems there's more to it than that.

He carefully examined the runes on the altar. He didn't recognize most of them, but there were a few he had seen before. They were the core nodes of the formation. This altar itself was a massive formation.

What is the purpose of a formation?

He looked up at the dome of the stone chamber. The dome was very high, and the firelight couldn't reach the top. It was pitch black.

Just then, a soft "clucking" sound came from inside the stone coffin.

The sound was very soft, like the sound of bones rubbing together.

Zhou Yang's pupils contracted, and he immediately took two steps back, gripping the knife hilt even tighter.

He stared intently at the empty stone coffin.

"Giggle...giggle..."

The sound continued. And something was slowly rising from the bottom of the sarcophagus.

That was a hand.

A withered hand. The skin clung tightly to the bone, devoid of any flesh or blood. The hand was bluish-gray in color, with long, black, curled nails.

A hand reached out from the edge of the coffin and grabbed haphazardly in the air. Then, another hand reached out as well.

Next, there was a head.

There was no hair, and the scalp was taut. The eye sockets were two black holes, the nose was rotten, and the mouth was wide open, as if it were screaming silently.

A mummified corpse is slowly sitting up from the stone coffin.

Zhou Yang didn't move. His heart was pounding, and blood rushed to his brain. He wasn't afraid, but excited.

This is exactly what he needs. A living... or rather, a master, both dead and alive.

He looked at the mummified corpse, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up slightly.

The thought of burning away one's lifespan ignited in his heart like a flame. He knew very well that ordinary swords and blades were useless against this thing. He needed greater power.

He touched his chest. There lay the years that he could burn brightly.

The mummified corpse finally sat up completely. Its empty eye sockets seemed to turn towards Zhou Yang. It paused for a moment, then suddenly stood up from the stone coffin!

"Snap!"

The bones cracked.

The dried corpse moved. Instead of descending the altar, it pounced directly from the top of the three-tiered altar towards Zhou Yang. It moved with incredible speed, creating a foul-smelling gust of wind.

Zhou Yang advanced instead of retreating.

In the instant that the corpse of Qian was about to fall in front of him, he made a decision.

He spoke in a low voice, so that only he could hear it.

"Burning, ten years of lifespan."