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

The vines left red marks on my palm.

Zhou Yang released his grip, his feet landing firmly on the ground. He bent his knees to absorb the force of the fall. He straightened up and sized up the three people in front of him.

They were all dressed in black, their cuffs and hems stained with sand. The leader was the tallest, half his face covered by a hideous scar. The scar stretched from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth, like a dried-up riverbed. He carried no weapon, only his eyes, fixed on Zhou Yang in the dim light.

That gaze was devoid of warmth.

To his left was a thin man, arms crossed, his fingers tapping restlessly on his forearm. To his right was a burly man, the hilt of his curved sword wrapped in cloth, indicating it was frequently used.

Their breathing was steady; they were all trained practitioners.

Zhou Yang's gaze swept over them, finally settling on the face of the man with the scar-like face. He didn't speak first. In a place like this, whoever spoke first was at a disadvantage.

The mountain wind blew in from the cliff cave, carrying a damp, earthy smell.

"Hand over the stuff."

The scarred man finally spoke. His voice was rough and deep, as if it had been sanded clean. He spoke of something, not a question. It was a command.

Zhou Yang laughed. He tugged at the corner of his mouth, which aggravated the wound on his face, causing a sharp pain. "What is it?" he feigned ignorance. "I'm just a fugitive. Besides a few copper coins, all I have left is this tattered garment."

The skinny man sneered, letting out a snort through his nose. "Stop pretending. Our people have been watching you for a long time. You broke into the Heavenly Principle Sect's mountain god temple and came out again. You have something they want on you."

His tone was aggressive, and his eyes were full of greed.

Zhou Yang's heart sank. He was being watched. Was it in the valley, or earlier? He recalled the trail he had followed but found no obvious trace. This group was very professional.

He reached into his robes, his movements slow. The scarred man and the burly man immediately reached for their weapons. The skinny man was more direct, taking a step forward, a gleaming dagger already in his hand.

Zhou Yang's hand stopped inside his clothes. Through the fabric, he could feel the coldness of the dragon spine fragment and the thin blueprint. This was his life. He couldn't hand it over.

"Don't be nervous." Zhou Yang raised his other hand to indicate that he meant no harm. "I just want some medicine." He slowly took out a small porcelain bottle and tossed it to the other person.

The skinny man instinctively caught it, opened it, and smelled it—it smelled like wound medicine. He pursed his lips and shoved the porcelain bottle back at Zhou Yang. "Don't give me that. Our patience is limited."

The scarred man raised his hand, stopping the skinny man. His gaze fell on Zhou Yang's chest, or more precisely, on the area in his arms. "We are not the Heavenly Principle Cult. We are their enemies." He paused, as if giving Zhou Yang time to think, "What you have is useful to us. We can make a deal."

transaction?

Zhou Yang's ears perked up. He knew those two words very well.

"What deal?" he asked.

"Come with us. Make sure that thing doesn't fall into the hands of the Heavenly Principle Sect. In return, we'll spare your life and help you get to the desert," the scarred man said.

The desert.

This word made Zhou Yang's heart skip a beat. How did they know they were going to the desert? Did the map point to something more than just him?

He stared into the scarred man's eyes, trying to discern something within them. Those eyes were too deep, like a stagnant pool, revealing no emotion. This man was far more difficult to deal with than the boisterous, skinny one.

"Why should I trust you?" Zhou Yang threw the question back at him. "You might kill me to cover your tracks once you get the stuff."

"We won't."

"On what grounds?"

The scarred man didn't answer directly. He held up three fingers.

"First, what we need is the 'guiding' function of that thing, not the thing itself. You are the best 'guiding'. Killing you will not do us any good."

"Secondly, the Heavenly Principle Sect's pursuers will be here soon. Think about it yourself, in your current state, how far can you run? Staying with us gives you a better chance of survival."

"Third," the scarred man's tone turned somber, "we know who you are. Zhou Yang, the Imperial Guard."

When the last name was announced, the air seemed to freeze.

The skinny man and the burly man's gazes changed. From their previous scrutiny and greed, they shifted to a mixture of awe and curiosity.

Zhou Yang's heart sank completely. His identity was exposed. This was even more troublesome than having his belongings targeted. In the martial arts world, the name "Imperial Guard" wasn't exactly prestigious.

He was silent.

Scarface was right. His true energy was almost depleted, and the lingering effects of burning his lifespan were causing him excruciating pain even in his bones. He had been clinging to life by sheer willpower during his escape. If the Heavenly Principle Sect's pursuers caught up, he would surely die.

It's a trap. But it's also the only way out.

"What if I disagree?" Zhou Yang raised his head, his eyes showing no sign of backing down.

The scarred man stared at him without speaking. The burly man slowly withdrew his knife half an inch. The blade gleamed eerily in the dim light. The atmosphere in the cave suddenly became extremely tense.

Just then.

A sharp whistle rang out from outside the cave entrance.

Immediately afterwards, the sounds of hurried footsteps and shouts grew louder as they approached.

"They're here! Seal the entrance!"

The people of the Heavenly Principle Sect caught up with us.

The skinny man's expression changed, and he cursed, "Damn it, these dogs have a really sharp nose!"

The scarred man reacted quickly. Without hesitation, he turned to the burly man and shouted, "Cover the rear! Third brother, go see if there's another way out!"

The burly man grunted, drew his sword, turned around, and stood like an iron tower, blocking the narrow passage leading to the outside world.

The skinny man, ignoring Zhou Yang, grabbed his dagger and ran deeper into the cave. "Follow me!"

Zhou Yang stood still, his eyes flickering. To run, or to stay?

He hesitated for only a moment.

Staying means being surrounded by enemies. Following them might offer a glimmer of hope.

Without further hesitation, he turned and followed the skinny man. The scarred man brought up the rear, his steps still steady, as if the shouts of battle outside were merely background noise.

The cave was deeper than expected, with many branching paths. The skinny man clearly knew the place well, leading them through a maze of twists and turns, passing through a narrow crevice that could only allow one person to pass sideways. At the other end of the crevice was a downward slope.

"quick!"

Zhou Yang slid down. Below was a dried-up underground river, its bed covered with pebbles. The air became dry.

The shouts of battle grew closer. The muffled thuds of clashing weapons could also be heard. The burly man was enduring the attack head-on.

They ran along the underground river for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn before a glimmer of light appeared ahead.

It is an export.

The three emerged from the underground river, the blinding sunlight causing them to squint. They were now at the bottom of a vast canyon. Towering cliffs, as if cleaved by a giant axe, rose on either side. The valley floor was covered with weathered rocks and sparse, drought-resistant vegetation.

The wind was strong, whipping up sand and dust that stung my face.

"Damn it, I don't know if the second one can hold on." The skinny man was panting heavily, his face full of anxiety.

The scarred man didn't speak. He glanced up at the direction of the sun, then at Zhou Yang. "Head north. Cross this rocky valley, and you'll reach the edge of the desert."

His tone remained flat, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

Zhou Yang didn't respond. He was assessing his situation. Following this group into a completely unfamiliar environment was extremely dangerous. But staying here meant certain death.

Just then, a muffled thud came from the direction of the cave entrance they had just run out of, as if something heavy had collapsed.

Then, everything returned to calm.

The skinny man's face turned pale instantly.

The scarred face finally furrowed its brow.

"He's finished," the skinny man said through gritted teeth.

Zhou Yang's heart sank. That burly man was fighting to the death to buy them time. Although his stance was unclear, his determination touched him.

"What do we do now?" The skinny man looked at the scarred face, somewhat at a loss.

The scarred man glanced at Zhou Yang and uttered two words: "Walk."

He took the first step, heading north. His steps were small, but quick and steady.

Zhou Yang followed. He had no other choice.

The skinny guy paused for a moment, then followed behind, grumbling. "Damn it, we lost a brother for a guide, what a rip-off..."

His voice was carried away by the wind.

In the canyon, only the footsteps of three people could be heard. One was steady, one staggered, and one was filled with resentment.

Zhou Yang's stamina was rapidly depleting. Every step felt like walking on a knife's edge. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep up with the scarred man's pace. He knew that if he fell behind, the other man would definitely not stop to wait for him.

As the sun slowly set in the west, it cast long shadows of the three people across the valley.

The temperature began to drop sharply. That's how large the temperature difference is between day and night in the desert.

Zhou Yang's body grew colder and colder, not because of temperature, but because of the depletion of his internal energy. He could only generate heat by burning his essence and blood to sustain his movements. This further shortened his already dwindling lifespan.

He found it somewhat ridiculous. He had traded his lifespan for power, only to survive. It was an absolute irony.

He looked up at the silent figure ahead. The man called Scarface. Who was he? What was the background of their organization? Why did they know so much about the Dragon Spine Fragments and the Heavenly Principle Sect?

Also, how many people still know about that blueprint?

Countless questions swirled in his mind, but none had an answer. All he could do now was keep going.

Embarking on this new and unknown path.

As night fell, they finally emerged from the Valley of Rocks.

Before me stretched an endless sea of ​​sand. Bathed in moonlight, it shimmered with a silvery-white glow. The wind howled across the dunes, a mournful sound like the weeping of ghosts.

A lone fire burns beneath the sand dunes.

The skinny man somehow got hold of a sand lizard and roasted it over the fire. The oil dripped into the fire, making a sizzling sound, and a fragrant aroma filled the air.

Zhou Yang leaned against a rock, closed his eyes, and regulated his breathing. He needed to recover even the slightest bit of strength as soon as possible.

A water bag was handed to me.

He opened his eyes; it was a scarred face.

"Drink it," the scarred man said succinctly.

Zhou Yang took it, uncorked it, and gulped down several mouthfuls. The water was cold and had a leathery taste, but it offered some comfort to his parched throat.

"Thank you," Zhou Yang said. This was the first sincere thing he had said all day.

The scarred man didn't respond; he simply sat down opposite him and quietly watched the fire.

Silence spread between the two.

"What's his name?" Zhou Yang suddenly asked.

The scarred man's shoulder twitched slightly. He stared at the flickering flames for a long time before finally speaking.

"Stone wheel."

"Where are his family members?"

"In the desert, I have no family. Only brothers."

The scarred man's voice was still rough, but Zhou Yang detected something hidden within it. That something, perhaps, was sadness.

"I will help you kill those members of the Heavenly Principle Cult," Zhou Yang said earnestly, looking at the firelight.

This is not a transaction, nor is it mere politeness. It is a promise to a deceased person.

The scarred man turned his head and stared intently at him. In the firelight, the scar resembled a winding fiery serpent.

"Okay." He only said one word.

The aroma of the roasted meat was even stronger.

The skinny man tore off a leg and handed it to Zhou Yang. "Eat it. If you're not going to die, you need to fill your stomach."

Zhou Yang took the grilled meat and began to wolf it down. He hadn't had a proper meal in far too long.

The meat was tough and had an earthy taste, but it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten.

The night wind grew colder and colder. The firelight seemed so small and fragile in this boundless darkness.

After finishing the meat, Zhou Yang finally felt a bit of strength returning to his body. He looked at the two people in front of him, then at the rocky valley he had just left behind, and finally at the bottomless sea of ​​sand ahead.

He knew that from this moment on, his life had completely turned in a new direction.

Without the protection of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, there was no prosperity of the capital.

All that remained was the wind and sand, the vendettas, and the cold shard in my arms.

He grabbed a handful of sand and let it slip through his fingers.

This path to new life is destined to be paved with lives and blood.