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

Zhou Yang moved.

He was like a golden arrow released from a bow.

That golden line pierced straight into the ranks of the Wolf Riders. There was no detour, no dodging. The path he chose was the most direct, and also the most reckless.

The wind was torn apart by his speed.

A sharp whistling sound rang out in the air.

The wolf knights at the very front didn't even have time to see his face clearly. They only saw a flash of golden light before a tremendous force slammed into them.

puff!

The Blood Dragon Short Sword pierced through the throat of a cavalryman without any resistance. The ferocity on the man's face froze instantly. His hand, gripping the saber, unconsciously loosened.

The warhorse neighed, carrying the headless knight, charged forward a few steps, and then collapsed with a thud.

Zhou Yang did not linger.

He lightly touched the saddle with his toes.

He leaped high again, lunging towards another cavalryman. That man was trying to turn his horse around, his scimitar just raised.

Golden light, yet another ray of golden light.

So fast it was blinding.

Zhou Yang's figure blurred into a series of afterimages within the cavalry formation. Each appearance of his was accompanied by a spurt of blood.

The Blood Dragon Short Sword seemed to come alive.

The ferocious dragon patterns on the sword were now faintly glowing. Wherever the sword's edge touched, blood seemed to be drawn by an invisible force, quickly coiling around the sword and emitting a low, yearning hum.

This is no longer swordsmanship.

This is a massacre.

One cavalryman's head flew into the air, a jet of blood spurting more than two meters high from his neck. Another cavalryman's chest was pierced through, his heart and large chunks of flesh shredded by the sword's energy.

The sounds of horses' hooves, screams, and clashing weapons became chaotic at this moment.

The Wolf Riders' proud charging formation shattered instantly under the impact of this one man, like thin ice being pierced by a boulder.

Wherever Zhou Yang went, men and horses fell over.

Corpses, warhorses, broken weapons—a path of blood and flesh stretched behind him. He did not look at the fallen enemies.

There was only one target in his golden eyes.

On the cliff, there stood a man clad in magnificent armor, his face contorted with shock and rage.

Batel.

"Shoot him! Shoot him to death!"

For the first time, Batel's voice trembled.

His personal guards finally snapped out of their shock. They all raised their crossbows and aimed them at the golden figure wreaking havoc in the formation.

Whoosh whoosh!

A rain of arrows, a dense rain of arrows, fell from the sky, completely covering the location where Zhou Yang was.

However, Zhou Yang's speed had already surpassed the trajectory of the arrow.

He moved like a ghost through the gaps in the rain of arrows. Every dodge was perfectly timed. Every arrow that grazed his body seemed to move as if it were still.

This is the absolute control brought about by the "body technique" that has been perfected after burning through one's lifespan.

He could clearly see the trajectory of each arrow, and even the fine lines wrapped around the arrowhead.

"Not fast enough."

A cold thought flashed through Zhou Yang's mind.

He wielded the Blood Dragon Short Sword in his hand even faster.

The sword light transformed into a red vortex, shredding all the arrows that were aimed at him. Wood chips and iron fragments flew everywhere.

Just then.

Another figure also began to move.

It's Qin Shuang.

She saw Zhou Yang fight his way out for her with such determination and domineering power. Her heart, which had sunk to the bottom, felt as if it had been pulled out of icy water by a pair of hands.

Scalding hot.

She held onto the knife and slowly straightened up.

My body aches terribly. Every movement feels like it's about to fall apart.

His inner strength had long since been exhausted. His hand, gripping the knife, trembled uncontrollably.

However, her eyes reignited their fire.

A cavalryman, seeing the lone woman stand up, grinned maliciously and swung his sword at her. In his mind, this was a sure thing.

Qin Shuang did not back down.

She gritted her teeth and lowered her body slightly.

The long sword, from bottom to top, drew a difficult yet incredibly resolute arc.

puff!

The blade pierced the cavalryman's abdomen. The smile on his face instantly turned to pain and disbelief. He hadn't expected this seemingly exhausted woman to still possess the strength to fight back.

Qin Shuang suddenly drew her knife.

Warm blood splattered all over her face.

She didn't wipe it; she just leaned on her knife, panting heavily, and coldly stared at the fallen enemy in front of her.

She knew she couldn't help Zhou Yang much.

But she can make sure she doesn't become a burden to him.

She could stand behind him and clear out the small fry who tried to ambush him.

She showed everyone through her actions.

As long as Zhou Yang is still standing, she will never fall.

At the top of the slope.

Batel's face had turned from shock and anger to ashen.

The scene before him was beyond his comprehension.

One man, charging into a formation of two thousand elite cavalrymen as if they were nothing. This is simply beyond human capability. It's the work of a god!

What terrified him even more was that the golden figure was getting closer and closer to him.

Fifty feet.

Forty feet.

Thirty zhang!

"Stop him! Stop him!" Batel roared hoarsely.

His personal guard commander, a burly man with a face full of scars, gritted his teeth, spurred his horse forward, and charged ahead. He was the foremost warrior of the Canglang Army, possessing astonishing strength.

"You beast, prepare to die!"

The burly man wielded a massive axe, bringing it down with immense force towards Zhou Yang.

The wind howled as he cleaved the air with his axe.

Normally, any grandmaster would have to temporarily avoid the sharp edge of this axe.

Zhou Yang did not.

He didn't even look up.

He simply raised the Blood Dragon Short Sword slightly.

Ding!

A crisp metallic clang rang out.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a thunderclap, exploding in everyone's ears.

The massive, heavy axe seemed to have struck an unshakeable mountain. The immense recoil traveled along the axe handle and spread throughout the body of the guard commander.

Click!

His arm bones were broken inch by inch.

He and his warhorse were thrown through the air by the force, tracing an arc before crashing heavily into a group of soldiers in the distance.

This caused a great uproar.

One sword.

It was just one sword strike.

The first warrior of the Canglang Army was thus rendered useless.

All the Wolf Knights stopped what they were doing.

As they watched the blood-soaked, slowly approaching golden figure, for the first time, something called "fear" appeared in their eyes.

That's not respect for the strong.

Rather, it is an absolute fear of death.

Batel was also stunned.

His hand holding the knife began to tremble slightly. His pride in his bravery, his heart that of a lion of the grasslands, shattered at that moment.

He thought of escaping.

However, his legs felt like they were filled with lead, and he couldn't move them.

Twenty zhang (approximately 33 meters).

Ten zhang (approximately 33 meters).

Zhou Yang's figure finally appeared at the edge of the cliff.

He didn't look at the terrified soldiers around him; his golden eyes were fixed on Batel with indifference.

"Now, you can't escape." Zhou Yang's voice was devoid of any emotion.

"Who...who exactly are you?" Batel's voice was dry, like sandpaper being rubbed.

"The one who sends you on your way."

Before Zhou Yang could finish speaking, he had already leaped up.

Like a golden eagle hunting its prey, he swooped down from his horse toward Batel on the cliff.

Batel's fighting spirit, which came from the depths of his blood, was completely ignited by these words.

He can't sit and wait to die like a coward!

Fuck!

kill!

With a wild roar, Batel spurred his horse forward, charging towards Zhou Yang. His curved saber, imbued with all his strength, flashed with a fierce light.

He wanted to perish together with this devil!

Faced with this desperate attack.

Zhou Yang's face still held that cold expression.

He didn't even raise the Blood Dragon Short Sword.

Just as the two horses passed each other, he flicked his wrist slightly.

A sword light, incredibly fast, appeared.

when!

A crisp sound.

Batel felt a sudden numbness in his wrist. His prized scimitar, forged from refined steel and used in countless battles, had been severed cleanly at the root!

The broken blade flew into the air, flashing a cold light in the sunlight.

What?

Batel's pupils suddenly shrank to pinpoints.

His mind went completely blank.

In that very moment of distraction...

Zhou Yang's figure had already closed in on him.

That blood-stained, yet still steady and strong hand was pressed against his chest.

It looks very light.

It's like a friendly pat between friends.

Batel didn't even feel any pain.

All he saw was a golden stream of energy gathering and spinning wildly in Zhou Yang's palm.

That golden aura carried an overbearing, domineering presence.

"This is... dragon energy?"

Batel finally remembered something.

He recalled a taboo legend passed down through generations of his Gray Wolf tribe—about a golden dragon that had destroyed countless tribes.

Legend has it that the dragon's breath can shatter everything.

next moment.

The golden dragon energy erupted.

There was no earth-shattering noise.

There was only a faint sound, like the sound of crushing an empty cardboard box.

hum-

A visible golden aura spread out instantly from Zhou Yang's palm.

Batel's chest suddenly caved inward.

His steel armor, as if made of paper, was torn to pieces by this force. Fragments flew in all directions.

He looked down at his chest.

A hole.

A gaping hole, bloody and clear.

His heart, along with the surrounding meridians and bones, was shattered into dust by that domineering dragon energy.

Life was slipping away from his body at a visible speed.

His gaze began to glaze over.

He looked at Zhou Yang, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something.

But he couldn't utter a single word.

boom!

Batel's massive body tumbled heavily from his horse, crashing to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.

That arrogant grassland wolf died just like that.

Do not look down.

Zhou Yang slowly withdrew his hand, without even glancing at the corpse on the ground.

He walked over to Batel, bent down, and picked up the broken blade.

A flick of the wrist.

A flash of light.

puff.

Batel's head was cleanly and decisively severed.

Zhou Yang lifted the head with the braid, its long hair fluttering in the wind. He turned around, facing the two thousand dumbfounded Wolf Knights below the cliff.

He raised the severed head in his hand.

Golden eyes swept over everyone.

"Your king is dead."

Zhou Yang's voice pierced through the wind on the grassland and reached everyone's ears clearly.

"Who else wants to die?"

silence.

A deathly silence.

All the Wolf Knights stared blankly at that familiar head, at that man who looked like a demon god.

Their faith collapsed at that moment.

Their courage vanished in that instant.

"Wow--"

It's unclear who it was, but the first person threw down their weapon, turned their horse around, and fled for their life.

This action is like a signal.

In an instant, the entire Canglang Army completely collapsed.

The soldiers cried out, screamed, pushed and shoved each other, trampled each other, turned their horses around, and fled in all directions. Military discipline, honor—all were worthless in the face of absolute fear.

They fled like madmen, as if a vengeful ghost was chasing them.

The vast battlefield was reduced in an instant to nothing but corpses, scattered weapons, and the woman leaning on her sword, silently watching everything unfold.

Qin Shuang looked at Zhou Yang, who stood on the cliff like a god or demon.

She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but only felt her throat was extremely dry.

The wind blows.

It had a strong smell of blood.

Zhou Yang casually tossed Batel's head onto the ground.

He jumped off the cliff and walked step by step to Qin Shuang.

He didn't say anything, but simply reached out and gently wiped the blood from her face.

My fingertips felt a touch of warmth.

Qin Shuang's body trembled slightly.

Looking at Zhou Yang's blood-stained yet incredibly earnest face, her eyes instantly reddened.