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

My footsteps sank lightly onto the gravel.

The lights ahead flickered like will-o'-the-wisps in the night fog. The mountain path grew narrower and narrower, and the wind, carrying the smell of snow, rushed in through gaps in the mountain wall.

Qin Shuang walked ahead, her sickle held horizontally across her chest. Her back was ramrod straight, like a drawn sword.

Zhou Yang followed behind her, his right hand always resting on the dagger at his waist. His breathing was steady, as was his heartbeat. The trap he had just avoided made him extremely careful with every step he took. The crisscrossing tripwires and sharp spikes hidden beneath the thin layer of soil could easily kill someone if he wasn't careful.

This road was carefully planned by someone.

After walking another hundred steps or so, the lights finally became clear.

That's not a campfire.

It was a stone platform. The platform, several dozen feet in circumference, was built of massive bluestones. Eight stone pillars stood on the platform, each topped with a bead. The beads emitted a faint glow, the same light they had seen from below the mountain.

In the center of the stone platform stood an even larger altar. The altar was of a simple, ancient style, its surface covered with intricate carvings. These carvings were deep, as if chiseled out stroke by stroke, weathered by time yet still clearly visible. In the very center of the altar was a groove the size of a bowl. The groove was filled with black mud, its depth indiscernible.

The entire platform was deserted, with only the sound of the wind.

"Here..." Qin Shuang stopped, her voice tinged with wariness.

"It looks like a place for offering sacrifices to heaven." Zhou Yang's gaze swept over the stone pillars and then landed on the central altar. "Or perhaps, it's for offering sacrifices to something else."

What he didn't say was that when he saw the altar, the three dragon spine fragments in his backpack began to warm slightly. A feeling of being summoned came from the depths of his bloodline.

Qin Shuang seemed to sense something as well. She looked at Zhou Yang, her eyes questioning.

Zhou Yang nodded, making no attempt to hide anything. He unpacked his backpack and took out the three fragments.

As soon as the fragment left the backpack, the light brightened slightly. The deep blue light carried a refreshing coolness. The dragon patterns on the fragment seemed to come alive, flowing slowly within the halo of light.

They all point to the groove in the center of the altar.

"We need a key," Qin Shuang said. She took out a bronze key from her pocket, which she had found in the cave earlier.

Zhou Yang took the key. It was heavy and chillingly cold. The key had a peculiar shape, with a coiled dragon head at the top and irregularly interlocking key teeth.

He walked to the edge of the altar and examined the groove closely. The inner wall of the groove also had intricate patterns that seemed to correspond one-to-one with the shape of the key.

He took a deep breath and inserted the key.

Perfectly fitted.

Zhou Yang gently turned the key.

"Click".

A soft sound came from inside the altar, as if some long-dormant mechanism had been awakened.

Immediately afterwards, the black mud in the groove began to writhe violently, then receded like the tide, revealing a bottomless hole underneath.

At the same time, the beads atop the eight stone pillars shone brightly. Beams of light shot out, converging above the altar to form a massive light curtain. This light curtain rotated, enveloping the entire altar.

The three fragments in Zhou Yang's hand began to vibrate violently, emitting a buzzing sound. They seemed to be trying to break free from Zhou Yang's palm and fly towards the light screen.

Zhou Yang held them down firmly.

He knew that the light screen was just the beginning. The real ritual had not yet begun. In his system, the clues about the "Dragon Spine Fragment" had become incredibly clear at this moment.

[Dragon Spine Altar detected...]

[Bloodline detected...]

[Activating the blood sacrifice ritual requires consuming the host's bloodline energy...]

Zhou Yang's heart sank.

Bloodline energy. That's the same thing again.

He knew without a doubt that the so-called bloodline energy was his lifespan. Every time he burned his lifespan, the system would warn him that this was consuming his life force.

He glanced at Qin Shuang. Qin Shuang was also looking at him, her eyes filled with worry, but she didn't stop him. She knew that some paths Zhou Yang had to walk alone.

Zhou Yang tugged at the corners of his mouth, revealing an expression that was hardly a smile. He pulled a dagger from his pocket. The dagger that had been with him for a long time, its blade gleaming coldly in the eerie blue light.

He was looking at his left arm.

No hesitation.

The blade sliced ​​down. Flesh tore open. A bloody gash appeared instantly, not deep, but long enough. Blood beads gushed out eagerly, then formed a line, dripping down his wrist.

The first drop of blood fell on the edge of the hole in the altar.

"Zzz."

A soft sound, like a drop of water falling into a pot of boiling oil.

The pale blue light screen flickered violently.

Zhou Yang didn't stop, and aimed his wrist at the hole.

Blood dripped down, drop by drop.

With each drop of blood that fell into the altar, a deep, rumbling sound emanated. The sound seemed to come from the depths of the earth, carrying an ancient and desolate aura.

The light curtain rotated faster and faster. Its color also began to change, gradually turning from a pure, deep blue to a pale red.

The three fragments in Zhou Yang's hand vibrated even more violently. Among them, the third fragment, obtained in the Bloodfire Trial, shone particularly brightly.

Suddenly, a beam of light shot out from the rotating light screen and precisely locked onto the fragment.

The fragment emitted a dragon's roar and flew into the air, hovering above the altar.

The beam of light, like an invisible hand, enveloped the fragments. The dragon patterns on the fragments darted about wildly, seemingly resisting, yet also seemingly yielding.

Zhou Yang sensed that something was wrong.

A tremendous suction force came from the fragment, traveled up his arm, and rushed straight into his body.

That's not ordinary suction.

That was a longing for his bloodline.

He felt something inside him being frantically drained. Not strength, not spirit, but something more primal.

His vision began to darken.

Everything around her became unreal. Qin Shuang's anxious face, the rotating light screen, and the suspended fragments all faded rapidly, turning into a gray and white painting.

Cold, a bone-chilling cold, started in his heart and spread to every part of his body.

[Warning! Significant lifespan loss!]

Life expectancy remaining: 78 years.

Lifespan consumption: 15 years.

The system notification rang in my mind, cold and devoid of any emotion.

fifteen years.

Zhou Yang's body swayed suddenly, and he almost knelt down.

An indescribable emptiness gripped him. It was as if someone had scooped out his internal organs with a spoon. He felt light as a feather, as if a gust of wind could blow him away.

His hand holding the dagger was trembling. Not from fear, but purely a bodily reaction.

"Zhou Yang!"

Qin Shuang's voice seemed to come from a great distance. She rushed forward and caught his body as he was about to collapse. Her hand was steady and cold. That slight coolness cleared Zhou Yang's muddled thoughts for a moment.

He raised his head and looked at the altar.

The fragment locked onto by the beam of light had now transformed into a crimson vortex. The vortex wasn't large, only about the size of a fist, but it spun at an astonishing speed. All the surrounding light converged towards it.

His blood continued to drip, being absorbed by the crimson vortex.

The vortex grew darker and darker, from pale red to dark red, and then to almost pure black. Only at the edges did a strange red glow still linger.

It can drain your lifespan.

Zhou Yang understood instantly.

This blood sacrifice ritual is a trap. A trap that uses dragon spine fragments as bait to specifically harvest people like him who possess "bloodline energy".

It's not too late to stop now. As long as he bandages the wound and stops the bleeding, the ritual will be interrupted.

But he didn't.

If interrupted, this fragment will likely be destroyed. All previous efforts, including the lost lifespan, will be wasted.

Moreover, he had a gut feeling that once this blood sacrifice was completed, what he gained would far outweigh what he lost.

It was like a high-stakes gamble. The stakes were his life.

How many times has he gambled in his life?

Zhou Yang gritted his teeth, using his other hand to brace himself against the edge of the altar, forcing himself to stand firm. Instead of stopping the bleeding, he tore the wound open even more.

More blood flowed out.

The crimson vortex emitted a satisfied hum, reaching its maximum spinning speed. Like a greedy heart, it pounded wildly, devouring Zhou Yang's essence blood and the life force contained within it.

Zhou Yang's vision completely blurred.

In his world, only that swirling, blood-red vortex remained.

He seemed to see countless shattered scenes. The clash of swords, the spray of blood, the mountains of corpses. A majestic dragon roared in the clouds, then was cleaved from the heavens. Its spine broke apart inch by inch, turning into countless fragments scattered across the earth.

Each of those fragments carries resentment and bitterness.

And he is using his own life to soothe the resentment in one of the parts, so that it may recognize its new master.

This is probably the meaning of "blood ties".

I don't know how much time passed.

It may be just a moment, or it may be half a century.

That terrifying suction force came to an abrupt end.

The crimson vortex stopped spinning. It slowly contracted, reforming into a fragment.

However, this fragment is completely different from the previous one.

Its entire surface became crystal clear, like blood-red glass. The dragon patterns inside were no longer in a wandering state, but rather quietly settled within, as if they were alive. An ancient and majestic aura emanated from the fragment.

The light curtain over the entire altar dimmed instantly. The beads on the eight stone pillars regained their previous soft glow.

it's all over.

"Thump."

Zhou Yang could no longer hold on and collapsed to the ground. He gasped for breath, his clothes soaked with a mixture of sweat and blood.

He felt as if he had run thousands of miles, or as if he had been run over by hundreds of horse-drawn carriages. Every cell in his body was screaming with exhaustion.

Qin Shuang knelt down, silently tore off a corner of her robe, and deftly bandaged the wound on his arm. Her fingers touched Zhou Yang's skin; it was icy cold.

"You're crazy," Qin Shuang said in a low voice. It was impossible to tell whether it was a reproach or lingering fear.

"I won the bet." Zhou Yang grinned, his face as pale as a sheet. He raised his still-movable right hand and pointed to the blood-red fragment floating silently in mid-air.

"Look, it's mine now."

As soon as he finished speaking, the fragment transformed into a stream of light and flew straight into Zhou Yang's brow.

A gentle yet powerful force instantly flowed through his limbs and bones. The feeling of being hollowed out was quickly filled by this force. Although his body was still tired, the emptiness that originated from the very source of life had disappeared.

He closed his eyes and felt the power.

The third fragment has been claimed as its owner.