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

The city of Yangzhou is in chaos.

The fire at the Salt Transport Office burned all night. It wasn't extinguished until dawn. But another piece of news spread even faster than the fire.

Qian Chang, the deputy salt transport commissioner, has gone mad.

The news spread like wildfire through every street and alley of Yangzhou. In the teahouses, the storytellers stopped. The most captivating stories became the stories told by the listeners themselves.

"Have you heard? Lord Qian has gone mad!"

"He's more than just crazy. I heard that in the middle of the night, he set his study on fire, crying and laughing, and hitting anyone he saw."

"Tsk tsk, how could a perfectly respectable fourth-rank official suddenly go mad?"

"Don't you know? Lord Qin at the City God Temple has something on him. He's been forced into this situation!"

People whispered among themselves, their eyes a mixture of curiosity, fear, and a hint of schadenfreude. The affairs of officialdom were far removed from their lives. But the downfall of high-ranking officials was always the best fodder for conversation.

Zhou Yang sat by the window of the inn, listening to the discussions on the street, picked up his teacup, and gently blew on the steam.

The waves on the water have already been stirred up.

Those hiding in the shadows were all focused on Qian Chang and Qin Shuang. No one noticed that the real mastermind behind it all was leisurely sipping tea.

Opportunity always favors the prepared.

It is also left to those who know how to create new opportunities amidst chaos.

He put down his teacup and picked up a piece of osmanthus cake from the dessert plate on the table. The cake was sweet and had a delicate fragrance. He ate it slowly, as if savoring something.

In a corner of the inn, Zhao Liu fidgeted restlessly. He glanced out the window every now and then, then at his master. His master was too calm. His calmness made him uneasy.

"Sir, are we... just going to wait like this?" Zhao Liu leaned closer and asked in a low voice.

Zhou Yang glanced at him. "What are you waiting for?"

"Let's wait... let Lord Qin make his move."

"It's her business if she takes action," Zhou Yang said, picking up another pastry. "We have our own things to do."

"Our business?" Zhao Liu was even more confused.

Zhou Yang didn't say anything more. He finished the osmanthus cake in his hand and wiped his fingers with a silk handkerchief. Then, he stood up.

"Walk."

"Where to?"

"The Canal Gang".

Zhao Liu's eyes widened instantly. Go to the Grand Canal Gang? Go to that gang that dominates the waterways of Yangzhou, the gang that even the government has to give some face to?

"Sir, why should we go to the Grand Canal Gang? Wasn't Qian Chang's matter settled?"

"Qian Chang is an official in the Salt Transport Bureau," Zhou Yang said calmly. "The Grand Canal Gang transports salt. Tell me, do you think they have any connection?"

One sentence was enough to enlighten Zhao Liu.

He suddenly understood. So that's how it is! Strike at the heart of the problem. The root of the salt transport route lies with the Grand Canal merchants. Only by severing their ties can Yangzhou's salt truly be sold by someone else.

Zhou Yang didn't explain further. He walked to the door, took his knife from the weapon rack in the corner. It was an ordinary goose-feather saber with a sharkskin scabbard that looked quite old. He carried the knife and walked straight out of the inn.

Zhao Liu hurriedly followed, feeling both nervous and excited. Following this lord, he never knew what would happen next.

The canal gangs were located on the banks of the Grand Canal outside Yangzhou. A massive wharf stood amidst a sprawling complex of courtyards. High walls of blue bricks stood guard, and two stone lions guarded the entrances. Even in the daytime, the place exuded a somber and menacing atmosphere.

But now, it's night.

Deeper still.

The moon hung in the sky, its cool light shining down, illuminating the shimmering river surface and the tightly closed vermilion gate of the canal gang's branch headquarters.

Two large lanterns hung at the entrance, casting a dim, yellowish glow on which stood four men dressed in black. They were burly men, each with a broadsword at their waist, their eyes sharp as eagles. An ordinary person, let alone entering, would be spotted even if they merely glanced at the entrance.

At the alley entrance, Zhou Yang stopped.

Behind him, Zhao Liu's palms were sweaty as he gripped the hilt of his sword. "Sir, there are only four of them, I..." he wanted to say, "I can take care of them."

Zhou Yang raised his hand to stop him.

"Wait for me here."

"Oh? Sir, you're going in alone? That's too dangerous!"

"Too many people will only get in the way," Zhou Yang said calmly. "I'm going in to discuss a business deal."

After saying that, without waiting for Zhao Liu to persuade him further, he picked up his knife and walked alone toward the gate.

His footsteps were neither fast nor slow, and in the quiet night, each step carried clearly.

The four men at the door immediately noticed him. They exchanged a glance, and two of them took a step forward, placing their hands on the hilts of their knives.

"Halt!" one of them shouted sternly. "Who goes there? This is restricted area for the Canal Gang. Unauthorized personnel, leave at once!"

Zhou Yang stopped three steps away from them. He didn't look at the two men; his gaze went past them to the tightly closed door.

"I've looked for Jiang Long." His voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear.

The four men were all stunned for a moment.

Crossing the River Dragon is the leader of their Yangzhou branch, a renowned master of the Innate Realm. For many years, no one has dared to address him by his full name.

"You think you can call us gang leaders by our names?" another man sneered. "You're asking for trouble! If you know what's good for you, get lost! Or we'll throw you into the canal to feed the fish!"

Zhou Yang still didn't look at him. He simply repeated it.

"I'll find Guo Jianglong. Tell him that Zhou Yang has come to visit."

"Zhou Yang?"

They had never heard of this name before. But this arrogance ignited their fury.

"You ignorant fool!"

With a furious shout, the hand on the hilt of the sword was already drawn. The gleaming blade drew a blinding arc under the lantern, aiming straight for Zhou Yang's head.

What a quick knife!

Zhao Liu watched from the alley entrance, his heart pounding in his chest, and he almost rushed out.

However, Zhou Yang didn't even lift his eyelids.

Just as the blade was about to fall, he moved.

He didn't draw his sword, nor did he make any other movements. He simply extended his left hand.

Two fingers.

The index and middle fingers are brought together like a sword.

"Ding!"

A soft sound.

His fingers gripped the blade with unparalleled precision. The violent force and the vibrations emanating from the blade seemed to have no effect on him. The knife remained motionless above his head.

The man with the knife stared wide-eyed, like copper bells. He used all his strength, but he couldn't move the knife an inch. The blade seemed to be clamped tightly by an iron vise.

The other three were also dumbfounded.

What kind of kung fu is this?

Zhou Yang's fingers shifted slightly.

Clang!

The broadsword was violently knocked from his hand, tumbled several times in the air, and stuck into a crack in the bluestone slab next to him, the hilt still humming.

"Go inside and report," Zhou Yang's voice turned cold.

The four men were so frightened that they retreated repeatedly, their faces turning deathly pale. They looked at Zhou Yang as if he were a ghost.

One of them realized what was happening and scrambled into the doorway.

The other three dared not stop them any longer and trembled as they made way for them.

Zhou Yang, carrying a knife, stepped over the threshold and went inside.

The courtyard was spacious and filled with people. Seeing this stranger swagger in, everyone gathered around, their gazes unfriendly.

The person who made the announcement quickly ran out of the lobby, accompanied by a man who appeared to be in charge.

The manager's surname was Liu, and he was known as Third Master Liu. When he came out and saw Zhou Yang, he was first taken aback, then his face darkened.

"Who are you? What brings you to our branch of the shipping guild in the dead of night?"

Zhou Yang looked at him as if he were air.

"Where is the 'cross-river dragon'? Tell him to come out and see me."

Master Liu's face instantly turned ugly. In Yangzhou, no one had ever been born who dared to speak to him like that.

"Friend, you're too arrogant."

Zhou Yang didn't bother with words. With a flick of his wrist, the goose-feather blade was drawn.

A flash of light appeared.

It was so fast that it was impossible to see clearly.

Everyone only saw a blur before their eyes as a silver streak flashed through the air. Immediately afterward, there was a crisp "crack" sound.

The crown on Liu Sanye's head was neatly cut off and fell to the ground. His long hair cascaded down, draping over his shoulders. He remained motionless, maintaining the same expression as before.

A chill ran from the soles of his feet straight up to the top of his head.

He knew that if he had thrust the knife forward just a fraction more, his head would have been the one falling to the ground.

The entire venue was deathly silent.

Everyone held their breath. They stared at the knife in Zhou Yang's hand; the blade gleamed coldly in the moonlight, and there wasn't a single drop of blood on its tip.

Zhou Yang sheathed his sword.

"Get out of the way."

In two words: simple and direct.

Liu Sanye's lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word. He subconsciously took a step to the side.

The crowd automatically parted to make way for them.

Zhou Yang, knife in hand, walked step by step towards the brightly lit hall. His silhouette, in everyone's eyes, resembled an insurmountable mountain.

In the main hall, there was a grand armchair. A tall, dark-skinned middle-aged man was slowly sipping a bowl of tea.

He heard the commotion outside but didn't move. Only when Zhou Yang's footsteps sounded at the lobby entrance did he slowly put down his teacup.

He is a dragon crossing the river.

The leader of the Canal Gang in Yangzhou, a master of the "Mixed River Palm" technique who has defeated countless opponents throughout the north and south of the Yangtze River.

He raised his head and looked at Zhou Yang at the door. His gaze was like lightning, carrying an undeniable pressure.

"It's you who wants to see me?"

Zhou Yang walked into the lobby and stopped ten steps away from him.

"it's me."

The man from across the river looked at him. He was young, and his aura was restrained. But his eyes were too bright. Bright as stars in an abyss.

"How dare you." The Crossing Dragon slowly stood up. He was nearly nine feet tall, standing like an iron tower, his imposing aura sweeping across the entire hall with his movement. "Do you know where you are?"

"I know." Zhou Yang nodded. "The Canal Gang branch."

"Knowing it, you still dared to go through with it?"

"Let's discuss things together," Zhou Yang said. "If we can reach an agreement, we're friends. If we can't, we're enemies."

The dragon crossing the river laughed. His laughter was so loud that it shook the dust that had accumulated on the beams and caused it to fall.

"Interesting. For years, no one has dared to speak to me like that." He cracked his knuckles, making a series of popping sounds. "Young man, what do you want to talk to me about? And with what?"

Zhou Yang took a step forward, knife in hand.

Use this.

Before he finished speaking, he moved.

There was no warning.

With a single step, his figure closed in like a ghost. The wild goose feather saber was drawn again, its blade flashing, aimed straight for the throat of the dragon crossing the river.

too fast!

Crossing the River Dragon's pupils constricted sharply. He hadn't expected his opponent to attack so suddenly, and with such ruthless moves!

"Well done!"

He roared and advanced instead of retreating. His right hand formed a palm, a faint blue light emanating from it, as he struck at the blade. This was his signature move, the "Mixed River Palm." The palm wind howled, carrying a viscous force that seemed capable of engulfing everything in its path.

He had absolute confidence in his palm strike. Even a precious sword could be sent flying by his blow. He could even shatter a person with a single strike.

However, the moment the blade touches the palm.

His expression changed.

There was no immense force as expected, nor the resounding clang of a blade clashing with a palm.

That seemingly domineering palm strike seemed to have landed on empty air.

Zhou Yang's knife traced a strange arc in the air, lightly bypassing his palm, the tip still pointing straight at his throat.

"Um?"

Crossing the River Dragon was startled. He thrust out his left palm, aiming to block Zhou Yang's chest. At the same time, he tilted his head to dodge the blade.

Zhou Yang's knife, however, was like a leech, adjusting its angle again as Zhou Yang turned his head.

The blade remained within three inches of his neck.

The more Guojianglong fought, the more alarmed he became. His "Mixed River Palm" was known for its powerful internal force and versatility; once unleashed, it was like being trapped in a quagmire, the more one struggled, the tighter the grip became. But Zhou Yang before him was like a slippery eel, always able to neutralize his force from the most impossible angles and in the most effortless ways.

Moreover, he had never seen the opponent's swordsmanship before. There were no fixed moves, no rules to follow. Every strike was aimed directly at a vital point. Simple, direct, yet incredibly cunning.

"That's enough!"

Crossing the River Dragon was utterly enraged. He held back, unleashing both palms simultaneously, their power surging and transforming into a blur of palm shadows that enveloped Zhou Yang. He intended to crush him with his superior internal strength.

This is an overwhelming force.

Faced with this overwhelming barrage of palm strikes, Zhou Yang's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile.

"That's exactly what I've been waiting for—you put in the effort."

He was silent.

"Lifespan, burning! Five days!"

A warm current surged from his heart, yet it felt as if something had been drained away. A brief dizziness washed over him. The next moment, countless profound and mysterious methods flooded into his consciousness.

Great Compassion Hand!

This is a top-tier Buddhist secret technique that emphasizes "compassion" over killing. It inflicts the most painful results in the gentlest way. Within three moves, it can cripple a person's meridians and sever their limbs without killing them.

The essence of the "Great Compassion Hand," which instantly reached the state of perfection, was deeply imprinted in Zhou Yang's mind.

Faced with the relentless onslaught from the invading dragon, Zhou Yang advanced instead of retreating.

He suddenly withdrew the knife from his hand.

He discarded the knife.

This surprised everyone.

The instant the goose-feather blade was sheathed, Zhou Yang raised his right hand, spread his five fingers, and faced forward, making a seemingly slow but profoundly elegant movement.

"The Great Compassion Hand, First Form: Questioning the Heart."

His palm gently touched one of the palms in the sky of the crossing dragon's palm shadows.

This palm strike appeared slow and weak.

Crossing the River Dragon sensed an unprecedented crisis. He tried to change his move, but found that his palm strike was being pulled by an invisible force, uncontrollably meeting the attack head-on.

"Snapped!"

Interlock your palms.

There was no earth-shattering noise.

There was only a soft sound, like the sound of patting cotton.

The dragon crossing the river trembled violently.

A subtle and strange internal force surged through his arm and instantly entered his meridians. The force was not violent, but it was like a venomous snake clinging to his bones, traveling upwards along his meridians and heading straight for the Jianjing acupoint on his right arm.

"Click!"

A soft, crisp sound came from his shoulder.

Crossing the River Dragon's right arm went numb, and his entire arm instantly lost all strength, hanging limply down.

He stared at Zhou Yang in utter horror: "What...what did you do to me?!"

Zhou Yang did not answer.

His body, propelled forward like a falling leaf by the force of his clasped palms.

He raised his left hand again, his fingers slightly bent, and pressed it against the wide-open chest of the dragon crossing the river.

"The second move: Severing Ties."

This move is faster and more unpredictable than the first.

The man who crossed the river was both shocked and furious, and he desperately struck out with his left palm. At this moment, he only wanted to kill this terrifying young man with one blow.

However, his hand was a beat too slow once again.

Zhou Yang's left hand, as if anticipating his movements, lightly slipped through the gap in his palm and landed on his left chest.

"Bang."

Another soft sound.

Guojianglong felt a tightness in his chest as that soft, yin-like internal energy erupted once more. This time, it didn't rush towards his heart meridian, but instead swept horizontally, heading straight for his left shoulder.

"Snap!"

Another crisp sound.

It was clearer and more piercing than the previous sound.

The dragon's left arm also drooped down at an odd angle.

Both arms are now useless!

He stood there, like a stone statue. His eyes were filled with unbelievable fear.

He was a master of innate skill, who had dominated the north and south of the country for decades. Today, he was crippled by an unknown young man in just two moves.

How is that possible!

Zhou Yang stopped and stood in front of him. The two were no more than a foot apart.

"Why?" The man from across the river's voice trembled. "Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?"

Zhou Yang looked at him, his eyes showing no pity, only a cold calm.

"As I said, I'm here to discuss business."

He raised his right hand and gently touched the dantian of the dragon crossing the river with his index finger.

"Great Compassion Hand, Third Form: Crossing Over from Calamity."

This gesture didn't actually touch anything.

The fingertip stopped an inch in front of Guojianglong's dantian, and an invisible force of energy penetrated his body. Guojianglong felt a chill in his lower abdomen, and the surging internal energy within him seemed to have found an outlet, instantly losing control.

His innate internal energy, cultivated through decades of arduous practice, was irreversibly and rapidly draining away from his body.

His face turned ashen at a visible speed. His tall, robust body began to hunch over.

He went from being a master to a cripple.

It only took three moves.

Zhou Yang withdrew his hand.

He turned and walked towards the door.

He stopped as he passed by Master Liu. Master Liu was already pale with fright, his legs were weak, and he could barely stand.

Zhou Yang ignored him and said one sentence to all the members of the Cao Gang who were too scared to move in the hall.

His voice was soft, yet it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.

"Go back and tell the head of the canal gang: the water of Yangzhou will henceforth belong to the Zhou family."

After saying that, he didn't linger. He picked up his knife, walked out of the main hall, and out of the gate of the Canal Gang branch.

When he stepped out the door, the night was quiet. The moonlight shone on him, casting a long shadow.

He carried the knife and disappeared into the darkness at the alley entrance.

It was as if it had never existed.

At the alley entrance, Zhao Liu was still standing there, stunned. He watched his elders walk out from inside, and not a single member of the canal gang dared to stop them, or even breathe loudly.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask something, but found that he couldn't utter a single word.

Zhou Yang walked past him, leaving only one sentence behind.

"Let's go back to the inn."

Zhao Liu nodded mechanically and followed his steps. He glanced back at the brightly lit but now deathly silent branch of the Canal Gang, and only one thought occupied his mind.

crazy.

This world has gone mad.

The person in his family is the craziest one.