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

Chapter 408

Zhong Zhouyang's "stab" of the Outer God will inevitably provoke a more direct and frenzied retaliation from the other party.

Zhou Yang leaned against the wall, panting heavily.

The wind blowing through the alley carried a dusty smell. His back was soaked with sweat, cold sweat streaming down his spine.

That sword strike, seemingly effortless, had nearly drained all the energy from his body. What terrified him even more was the depletion of his lifespan. It wasn't a ball of fire, but a torrent bursting its banks. He felt as if he had been aged ten years out of thin air.

"You need to rest."

Qin Shuang's voice was right next to his ear. Her hand was on his arm, her grip firm.

Zhou Yang looked up at her. Qin Shuang's face was pale, and her lips were somewhat white. She was more afraid than he was, but she hid it well.

"Let's go," Zhou Yang uttered a single word.

He pushed Qin Shuang's hand away, trying to stand up on his own, but his legs went weak. Qin Shuang immediately supported him again, this time without letting go.

"That hole..."

"We can't handle it," Zhou Yang interrupted her. "Never mind. We need to leave before the Imperial Guards arrive."

He was telling the truth. That void was like a wound in the sky, a wound in the world. There was no way to cover it up. Explain? How could you explain it? That they fought with the gods in heaven?

The two supported each other and staggered out of the alley.

The scene on the street was starting to look strange.

The night watchman was trembling as he struck his clapper, his announcements of the time a jumbled mess. A few screams rang out in the distance, quickly drowned out. A patrol of city guards from the north ran over, their expressions no longer the usual laziness, but a look of utter terror, as if they'd seen a ghost.

"Something's happened." Qin Shuang released Zhou Yang, her sharp gaze sweeping across the surroundings. "It's not just here."

Zhou Yang also sensed it.

A strange energy permeated the air. It was faint, yet omnipresent, like an invisible net covering the entire capital city.

He looked up at the sky.

The stars are still the same stars. The moon still hangs there. But the world seems no longer the same. It's as if we're looking at everything through a layer of shimmering water.

"Return to the centurion's office," Qin Shuang decided.

"No way," Zhou Yang immediately objected. "There are too many people and too many eyes there. I have a place in the west of the city."

Zhou Yang was referring to a safe house he had prepared long ago. In the most chaotic slum in the west of the city, there were three dilapidated tile-roofed houses, inconspicuous and easy to hide in.

Qin Shuang nodded without hesitation: "I'll listen to you."

She went to the street corner and brought back two horses that looked nothing special. The two mounted the horses, spurred them on, and galloped off towards the west of the city.

The further west you go, the more you can feel that eerie atmosphere.

As they passed a street, Zhou Yang reined in his horse.

He saw a two-story restaurant, the second floor of which had vanished completely, as if sliced off by an invisible giant knife. The cut was as smooth as a mirror, clearly revealing the broken tables, chairs, and beds inside. Beside the ruins of the restaurant, the crown of an old locust tree was twisted and shrunken into a ball, like a crumpled piece of paper.

Several people pointed from a distance, their faces filled with fear, but they dared not approach.

"This is..." Qin Shuang gasped.

"Divine punishment," Zhou Yang uttered, his eyes icy cold. "Or perhaps, God is trembling and accidentally overturned the table."

His analogy made Qin Shuang's face turn even paler.

They continued on their journey.

Along the way, they witnessed even more strange things.

A straight alleyway suddenly has a 90-degree bend in the middle; walking through it, you find yourself back where you started. Water from an ancient well is gushing upwards, as if drawn up from the ground by some force.

The entire capital city seemed to have turned into a lump of clay that was being kneaded and molded by a mischievous child.

The headquarters of the Heavenly Principle Sect is an inconspicuous Taoist temple.

Abbot Li Xuanzhen sat cross-legged on the altar in the main hall. Before him stood a bizarre statue of a deity with three eyes and six arms. The statue was cast in black iron, its surface covered with incomprehensible symbols.

"Reporting to the Dharma Master!" A temple master rushed in, stumbling and scrambling. "Outside...something's happened outside! The entire space is tearing apart!"

Li Xuanzhen slowly opened his eyes. His pupils were strange; they weren't black, but a bottomless gray.

"What's the panic?"

His voice was calm, carrying a haughty indifference.

"God...God is angry!" the temple master stammered, terrified. "Did our ritual...fail?"

A smile appeared on Li Xuanzhen's lips. That smile contained no joy, only fervent adoration.

"No, it's a success." He stood up, walked to the statue, and reached out his withered hand to stroke its cold face. "This is the response of the 'spectator.' He heard our prayers. He is tearing away the veil of this 'old world' and bringing forth a new divine kingdom for us."

"Those strange phenomena outside..."

"That is the glory of the divine kingdom, a power beyond the comprehension of mortals." Li Xuanzhen turned around, his gray pupils sweeping over all the terrified followers in the hall. "You should feel honored. We are the first to witness a miracle. Go, spread the glory of the divine kingdom to every corner of the capital. Tell the world that the old era has ended."

"By the command of the Lord of Law!"

The followers below seemed to have been injected with adrenaline; their initial fear was replaced by fanatical faith. They brandished swords and charged out of the headquarters, disappearing into the chaotic night.

Just then, the entire Taoist temple shook violently.

The beams of the main hall groaned under the weight. The plaster on the walls crumbled and fell.

The smile on Li Xuanzhen's face froze.

He suddenly looked up at the top of the altar.

The roof beams there were twisting eerily at a speed visible to the naked eye. The wooden structure seemed to have turned into soft noodles, twisted into a pretzel by an invisible force.

But strangely, it didn't break.

Li Xuanzhen's expression changed.

He could sense an extremely pure power belonging to the "spectators" enveloping the area.

This force didn't destroy the Taoist temple; instead, it seemed to be... transforming it.

"Is this the Kingdom of God...?" he murmured to himself, a hint of intoxication flashing in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, in the forbidden area of the backyard, in the blood pool used for the final ritual, the water began to swirl, forming a bottomless vortex. At the center of the vortex connected to a void beyond description, filled with chaos and howls.

West of the city, dilapidated tile-roofed houses.

Zhou Yang sat cross-legged on the bed, regulating his breathing.

He burned through far too much of his lifespan. Although his body could recover with medicine and breathing exercises, the feeling of life slipping away was like a leech, impossible to shake off.

He felt a chill permeating his internal organs.

Qin Shuang sat at the table, wiping her embroidered spring knife. The blade reflected her solemn face.

"The people of the Heavenly Principle Sect have come out," Qin Shuang said in a low voice. "My people just sent word that they are gathering followers outside, preaching about the 'descent of the divine kingdom,' creating chaos everywhere, and taking the opportunity to attack government offices and garrisons."

"As expected." Zhou Yang opened his eyes, a fierce glint in them. "A bunch of mad dogs. With 'God' as their backer, they naturally have nothing to fear."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked outside.

From here, you can see a patch of fire in the distance. Shouts of battle and screams of agony can be faintly heard on the wind.

"What about Commander Chen's side?" Zhou Yang asked.

"He mobilized the Northern Garrison Command and is suppressing them with all his might. But there are too many members of the Heavenly Principle Cult, and... they seem fearless." Qin Shuang's voice was somewhat grave. "Some members of the Heavenly Principle Cult undergo physical mutations, gaining terrifying strength and becoming impervious to swords and spears."

Zhou Yang's pupils suddenly contracted.

"Has it been corrupted by God...?" he murmured.

He finally understood.

The will of the Outer God is not merely a matter of spatial distortion. Its power is like an invisible plague sweeping across the entire capital. Ordinary people who come into contact with it will be terrified and die. But those with weak wills and guilty consciences, such as members of the Heavenly Principle Cult, will absorb this power, mutate, and become monsters.

The "spectators" don't just want to destroy the world.

It wants to turn it into its own breeding farm.

The Heavenly Principle Sect was among the first "shepherds" to be corrupted.

"We can't wait any longer." Zhou Yang turned around and took his sword from a box in the corner.

"What are you going to do?" Qin Shuang stood up.

"Let's do some business." A cold smile appeared on Zhou Yang's face. "God has given us an opportunity. An opportunity to wipe them all out."

Qin Shuang looked at him: "Are you crazy? The way you're acting right now..."

"I'm fine." Zhou Yang patted the scabbard. "While I was adjusting my breathing, I kept thinking about one thing. I stabbed it, and it was furious. So it unleashed divine punishment to vent its anger. But its power is not boundless."

"How so?"

"Look at those anomalies, they're all random and unpredictable. Like a drunk person wildly swinging their fists." Zhou Yang's eyes gleamed with shrewdness. "This shows that its interference in this world comes at a price, or rather, it's imprecise. It can't just kill us; it can only launch indiscriminate area attacks."

Qin Shuang immediately understood: "Therefore, even in chaos, there is order."

"That's right." Zhou Yang nodded. "Every time space is distorted, every time power leaks out, it will cause a certain pull on the 'origin' of this world. I can 'see' the huge net stretching across the sky above the capital with my eyes closed. And all the lines pulling ultimately point to one place."

"where?"

"The headquarters of the Heavenly Principle Cult," Zhou Yang's voice turned cold. "They are the followers of the spectators; they opened the door willingly. Therefore, the power cast by the spectators will involuntarily gather towards them. That is the eye of the storm."

Qin Shuang gripped the hilt of the knife tightly: "You want to..."

"To catch the thief, first catch the king." Zhou Yang's lips curled into a cold smile. "Let's go meet that arrogant Dharma Lord. Let's use the power bestowed by the gods to entertain His most loyal lackey."

"This is too dangerous," Qin Shuang objected. "The strongest forces are at the eye of the storm."

"The risk is greatest, but the reward is also greatest." Zhou Yang looked at her. "Shuang, we have no choice. God is raging, and dogs are barking indiscriminately. The imperial court's power is being restrained, and Commander Chen's men are in a state of chaos. Now, only we can solve the problem."

He paused, his voice softening slightly: "You stay here. I'll go alone."

Qin Shuang looked at him and remained silent for a moment.

Then, she swiftly and decisively sheathed her gleaming embroidered spring knife.

"I'll go with you."

"Your injury..."

"Your injuries are no less severe than mine," Qin Shuang interrupted him, looking directly into his eyes. "Zhou Yang, we said we'd see it through together. Let's start by pulling out its claws one by one."

Looking into her determined eyes, Zhou Yang ultimately didn't try to persuade her any further.

He nodded: "Alright. Then let's not waste this grand spectacle that 'God' has bestowed upon us."

The night was darker.

The headquarters of the Heavenly Principle Sect in the capital has become a bizarre and strange place.

Stepping into this place is like entering another world.

The bluestone slabs underfoot undulated like waves. The bricks on the walls would bulge out at inopportune moments, then recede, as if breathing. The air was filled with the stench of rust and rotting flesh.

Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang walked one after the other through the twisted Taoist temple.

Zhou Yang's sword remained sheathed. Yet, he himself was like a stone thrown into water, the surrounding space instinctively repelling any fluctuations in its energy.

He is burning through his lifespan.

Not much, just like a needle, carefully piercing the skin, oozing out a few drops of blood.

But those few drops of blood were enough to keep him completely conscious and allow him to sense the flow of power around him.

"Three zhang to the left front, behind the wall," Zhou Yang whispered.

No sooner had she finished speaking than Qin Shuang moved.

Without the slightest hesitation, she drew her sword with a backhand motion, and a flash of cold light shot out like a bolt of lightning.

"puff!"

A muffled thud. From behind a moss-covered wall came a sharp scream. A member of the Heavenly Principle Cult, his body covered in purple pustules, collapsed, clutching his throat. A thin line of blood appeared on his throat.

Qin Shuang sheathed her sword with fluid, graceful movements.

The two continued walking forward.

Along the way, they encountered many mutated cult members. Some clung to the walls like spiders, while others had grown extra limbs. They were all killed by Qin Shuang with a single blow.

Zhou Yang did not draw his sword.

He is conserving his strength while also observing the situation.

He was observing this distorted space, observing the flow trajectory of this "divine power".

"It's 'nourishing' this place." Zhou Yang looked at a grand hall that was gradually becoming translucent and said in a low voice, "The headquarters of the Heavenly Principle Sect is being transformed into an 'anchor point' for spectators on earth. Once completed, the power of the gods can descend without hindrance."

Qin Shuang's expression changed.

That would mean that the capital city would fall completely.

"Li Xuanzhen must be at the core," Qin Shuang said.

"That's right." Zhou Yang's gaze fell upon the deepest part of the Taoist temple, where a three-story altar was emitting an increasingly intense gray light. "He's orchestrating all of this. He's using his own life and the lives of all his followers to pave the way for the spectators."

The two walked all the way to the foot of the altar.

The spatial distortion here has reached its extreme. Gravity is intermittent, and the air is filled with invisible knives that slash painfully.

Dozens of elite protectors from the Heavenly Principle Sect surrounded the altar, each one different from the previous lackeys. They looked no different from ordinary people, but their eyes were empty, and gray runes flowed across their skin.

It is they who maintain the operation of the altar.

Upon seeing Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang, all the guardians turned their heads in unison.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized, like puppets being manipulated.

"Blasphemers," they said in unison, their voices hollow and devoid of emotion, "enemies of God."

Li Xuanzhen stood atop the altar. He looked down at Zhou Yang, his face filled with compassion and empathy.

"Zhou Yang, are you the one who angered God?" he sighed. "Why did you rebel? The coming of God's kingdom is a blessing for all. Why did you choose to become a sinner in history?"

Zhou Yang smiled.

He raised his head, met Li Xuanzhen's gaze, and said, word by word, "I'm poor, I can't afford the ticket to your divine kingdom."

The smile on Li Xuanzhen's face disappeared.

"Stubborn and obstinate."

He waved his hand.

The guardians behind him moved.

Their figures vanished instantly. The next moment, they reappeared in front of Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang.

It's faster than a human.

Qin Shuang's sword was already drawn. She wielded it, creating a flurry of blade light to protect herself.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

A series of rapid clashes rang out. The guardians' attacks were incredibly unpredictable, with tricky angles and immense power. Qin Shuang's sword-light shield teetered on the brink of collapse under the first wave of impact.

Zhou Yang moved.

He ignored the protectors.

His figure blurred, like a shadow, bypassing the battle circle and rushing towards the altar.

"court death!"

Li Xuanzhen snorted coldly. He formed a hand seal with one hand, and the gray light around the altar intensified.

An invisible spatial force, like a wall, blocked Zhou Yang's way.

Zhou Yang crashed headfirst into it.

"boom!"

A muffled thud. Zhou Yang felt as if he had crashed into a mountain; he was thrown back and landed on the ground.

"This is the gate to the divine realm," Li Xuanzhen said, high above like a deity. "Mortals must not approach."

Zhou Yang spat out a mouthful of blood mixed with bits of internal organs, but then he smiled.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and slowly stood up.

"Yeah?"

His eyes suddenly changed.

It was a gaze that seemed to see through all illusion. He stared into the void, as if looking at him, yet also as if not.

"I saw it," Zhou Yang murmured to himself. "I saw the flow of power, I saw the veins of space... Li Xuanzhen, you think you're manipulating divine power? No, you're just a conduit for divine power. And you, this conduit, your weakest point is right here."

Zhou Yang raised his hand and extended his index finger.

He didn't burn through much of his life.

Just that little bit.

But he compressed this point to its extreme. Extreme purity, extreme sharpness.

The air around his fingertips began to distort slightly.

Then, he flicked his finger.

There was no ghostly light, no sword energy.

There was only one "ripple" that was invisible to the naked eye.

The ripple didn't shoot towards Li Xuanzhen, but instead towards the base of the altar.

That place is the convergence point of all the gray light, the core node of energy.

"Click."

A crisp sound, so faint it was almost inaudible.

Then, something unexpected happened!

The entire altar suddenly dimmed. The steadily flowing gray energy instantly became violent! Like a dam that had been breached, it lost all control!

Li Xuanzhen's expression changed drastically.

He felt the power within him instantly spiral out of control! It was no longer nourishing, but rather backfiring!

"ah--!"

He let out a piercing scream. His body, like an overinflated balloon, began to swell wildly! The blood vessels beneath his skin twisted into black snakes.

"What have you done!" he roared.

"I simply told your god that its pipes were leaking," Zhou Yang said coldly, looking at him.

Li Xuanzhen's body was still swelling. His facial features were all squeezed together, making him look terrifying.

The guardians who were besieging Qin Shuang also instantly lost their power. The gray runes within their bodies extinguished, their bodies stiffened, and then, like statues, they shattered into dust on the ground.

Qin Shuang let out a long breath. She looked at the strange phenomenon on the altar, her eyes filled with shock.

She never expected that Zhou Yang could break the entire formation in such a seemingly "shortcut" way.

"No... God will not abandon me... I am your most devout believer!" Li Xuanzhen roared, his body already swelled to its limit.

Just then, the gray curtain in the sky seemed to crack open again.

A cold, emotionless will descended once more.

But this time, it didn't fall on Zhou Yang.

Instead, it fell on Li Xuanzhen.

It was a judgment, and also an abandonment.

Li Xuanzhen's body froze instantly. The fanaticism and fear on his face were frozen in place.

Then, like a punctured balloon, he didn't explode, but silently "dissolved."

It turned into a gray, drifting dust.

There is no flesh and blood, no bones.

It was as if this person had never existed.

Where the dust settled, something fell to the ground.

"Ding-dong."

A soft sound.

It was a piece of metal about the size of a palm.

It is dark gold all over, covered with ancient and complex patterns, like a fragment of something.

Zhou Yang's eyes lit up instantly.

He stepped forward and caught the shard before it hit the ground.

The moment the fragment touched his hand, an unimaginably vast torrent of information, mixed with an aura of vastness, desolation, and fighting spirit, rushed directly into his mind!

"Buzz—"

His mind went blank.

Countless fragmented images flashed by.

The roar of dragons, the fall of gods, the tearing of the sky, the sinking of the continent...

Finally, he heard a voice.

The echo of an existence that is not of the audience, yet equally great.

"—Using the dragon's spine as a lock, suppressing the abyss..."

The image freezes.

The information deluge recedes.

The shard in Zhou Yang's hand suddenly became scalding hot. A drop of blood seeped from his fingertip and dripped onto the shard.

That drop of blood was absorbed instantly.

The dark golden fragments shone brightly!

A completely different power, full of masculinity and vitality, burst forth from the fragments, instantly dispelling the gray aura that belonged to all the spectators!

The oppressive and distorted feeling throughout the Taoist temple was instantly dispelled.

The altar began to collapse.

The gray curtain in the sky seemed to be stimulated by this force and quickly receded.

The signs of the audience's will to descend have disappeared.

Zhou Yang held the scalding hot fragment, his heart pounding wildly.

He seems to have... found a new toy.

No, it's that they've found a new way to survive.

"Zhou Yang!"

Qin Shuang's voice pulled him back to reality.

He saw Qin Shuang looking at him with concern.

"I'm fine." Zhou Yang took a deep breath, put the fragments into his pocket, and said, "It's resolved."

The sky was beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn.

The chaotic night has passed.

This grand drama, a tale interwoven with divine wrath and human calamity, has come to an end.

Zhou Yang looked at the fragment in his hand, then at Qin Shuang beside him.

He smiled.

"It seems the rules on the chessboard need to be changed."

[The Three-Day Promise]

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the morning light was faint.

After Zhou Yang said, "The rules on the chessboard need to be changed," his expression changed.

It wasn't the exhaustion from putting on a brave face, nor the excitement from a successful scheme.

It's a cold sense of decay that seeps from the depths of your bones.

"puff--"

He suddenly bent over and spat out a mouthful of blood.

The blood wasn't bright red. It was a darker color, like ink mixed with rust, which had congealed into ominous spots on the bluestone slab.

He coughed violently, his whole body trembling, as if he were coughing up his internal organs.

Qin Shuang reacted quickly, stepping forward to support his swaying body.

Her arm was steady, with undeniable strength.

Zhou Yang leaned heavily on her, and the scent of soap on her clothes, mixed with a faint hint of blood, filled his nostrils.

It was his own blood.

"I'm fine."

Zhou Yang waved his hand, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded by sandpaper.

He raised his other hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His fingertips touched his lips, which were ice-cold.

The spiritual energy has been depleted.

My meridians felt like a wasteland scorched by wildfire, cracked and parched. Every breath brought a sharp, needle-like pain deep within my chest.

This is the price of "Assassin God".

It is not an instantaneous death, but a slow, fundamental collapse.

What he burned was not just his lifespan, but also the "source" that is the foundation of a martial artist.

Qin Shuang didn't say anything, but half-supported and half-carried him, leading him to sit down on a chair in the room.

Her movements were swift and precise, each step accurate and efficient.

She took out a white jade porcelain bottle from her bosom, poured out a fragrant pill, and held it to Zhou Yang's lips.

"I ate." Her tone was calm, revealing no emotion.

Zhou Yang opened his mouth.

The pill entered my mouth and transformed into a warm, slightly bitter stream that slid down my throat into my stomach, before slowly spreading to my parched limbs and bones.

This warm current was very weak, like a drop of water in the desert, but it temporarily suppressed the deadly sense of decay.

He exhaled a long breath, but his breathing was still weak.

The room was very quiet.

Morning light streamed through the window, casting several slanted streaks of light on the ground, with dust motes slowly floating within the light.

Qin Shuang stood in front of him, looking at him. Her eyes were calm, like a bottomless lake.

She didn't ask him "Are you okay?" or "How badly are you hurt?"

She only asked one question: "What's next?"

In one sentence, all the key points are revealed.

She had already tacitly acknowledged that Zhou Yang's shocking "gamble" was not the end, but just the beginning.

Zhou Yang tried to smile, but the movement aggravated the injury in his chest, causing him to gasp in pain.

He raised his head, his gaze passing over Qin Shuang's shoulder, and looked at the space in the center of the courtyard that had been forcibly torn apart and then healed.

There was nothing there.

The air is still flowing, and the plants are still growing.

But he knew things were different there.

"That wound wasn't in the yard," Zhou Yang said in a low voice, carrying a strange sense of weariness. "It was a wound in the 'rules'."

Qin Shuang's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Zhou Yang continued, "I made a mistake. Right under the nose of that 'spectator'."

He used a very simple word: audience.

There were no abstract terms like "higher-dimensional beings" or "indescribable beings." They were simply spectators, the guys watching the show from outside the chessboard.

"I could feel something being drawn in. It's like... if you turn on a light in a dark room, moths will come to the light," he explained. "What I lit was a light that shouldn't exist in their world. So, they come to spy, to study, and to try to extinguish the light."

Qin Shuang's eyes finally changed.

She understood what Zhou Yang meant.

"Backlash?"

"Yes, backlash." Zhou Yang nodded, then coughed twice more. This time he didn't cough up blood, but his face was even paler. "But that's the interesting part. If they were determined to kill me, I would have turned to ashes the moment I thrust out that sword."

He paused, looked up at Qin Shuang, and there was a morbid excitement in his eyes.

"They don't. What does that mean?"

Qin Shuang was silent for a moment, then uttered two words: "Rules".

"That's right, rules!" Zhou Yang slapped his thigh, but he didn't control the force well, and it hurt so much that he grimaced. "This game of chess has its own rules! Those spectators aren't mad dogs who can just jump in and overturn the pieces. They're bound by certain rules, or perhaps there are disagreements among them."

That's the source of his confidence to "pay more".

He wasn't betting on his own strength, but on his insight into "human nature"—even gods will have disagreements as long as there are interests; and as long as there are rules, there are loopholes that can be exploited.

"The hole I created is both my death warrant and my talisman," Zhou Yang said with a cold, calculating tone. "This 'wound' will continue to attract their attention. Right now, countless eyes are fixed on this courtyard, on this 'wound.' Whoever makes the first move will be exposed to the eyes of all the 'spectators.' Whoever wants to destroy me will have to bear the risk of becoming a target for the other spectators."

A delicate balance has been formed.

He turned himself into bait, a hot potato.

Qin Shuang looked at Zhou Yang. His face was as white as paper, and his breath was so weak that it seemed as if he might break at any moment, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.

It was a gaze that intertwined extreme weakness with extreme control, contradictory yet terrifyingly real.

"They gave me time," Zhou Yang said. "A buffer period. They were observing, evaluating, and waiting. So was I."

He held up three fingers.

"Three days. Three days at most. After three days, they will reach a conclusion. Or, their internal power struggle will come to an end. At that time, someone will come to me."

"Have you come to kill me, or to...make a deal?" Qin Shuang asked.

"Anything is possible." Zhou Yang withdrew his hand, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. "But no matter who comes, I can't go to see them empty-handed."

A wave of weakness washed over me, and each heartbeat felt like it drained all my strength.

But his mind was clearer than ever before.

"Qin Shuang".

"Mmm," Qin Shuang responded softly.

"Go do a few things." Zhou Yang's voice grew weaker, but the instructions were crystal clear.

"First, clean up the traces. All traces from last night, inside and outside the yard, everything that has my blood on it, everything affected by spiritual energy, must be completely cleaned up. I don't want anyone to be able to locate me through these things."

Qin Shuang nodded. This was a fundamental skill of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and she was better at it than anyone else.

"Second, seal off the courtyard. From now until I leave, only entry is allowed, no exit. Anyone who tries to approach, whoever they are, don't hesitate to drive them away. I don't want anyone disturbing my rest, and I especially don't want anyone causing trouble behind my back."

"clear."

"Third..." Zhou Yang opened his eyes, staring intently at Qin Shuang, "and also the most important thing. Help me prepare the 'bargaining chips'."

Qin Shuang did not ask what the bargaining chips were.

She just waited quietly.

Zhou Yang took out the dragon spine fragment he had just acquired from his pocket.

The fragment was cold and heavy to the touch, covered with ancient patterns, and faintly shimmered with light.

It was this thing that, at the last moment, helped him withstand a portion of the power of the void rift, and also allowed him to glimpse a higher "rule".

"I want to leave an indelible mark on this," Zhou Yang said. "Something I'll leave with my lifespan."

Qin Shuang's pupils suddenly contracted.

She had seen everything from burning lifespans and deducing cultivation techniques to repairing divine weapons.

But using her lifespan to leave an invisible and intangible mark was something she had never considered.

"That void rift, that 'wound,' is like a nail, driven between this world and theirs." Zhou Yang's voice carried a bewitching allure. "If I die, this nail will lose its meaning to them. But what if... my death could cause this nail to explode?"

"Explosion?" Qin Shuang repeated.

"It's not a physical explosion," Zhou Yang shook his head, "it's an explosion of 'cause and effect'."

He used a word that Qin Shuang found unfamiliar.

"I will use my life as a fuse. I will connect it to this fragment, and through the fragment, to that 'wound'. Once I am killed, this fuse will be lit. My death will trace back through this causal chain to the source of all those who 'peeped' at this wound."

He looked into Qin Shuang's eyes and said, word by word:

"It's like a bomb. A causal bomb strapped to me, its power uncertain, but it will definitely affect all the 'spectators.' If I die, no one will have an easy time. Everyone will be tainted by my karma."

That's his bargaining chip.

A gesture of mutual destruction.

Only a madman would come up with such a plan.

"You're crazy." Qin Shuang's lips moved, and she finally uttered those three words. Her voice trembled slightly, a tremor she herself was unaware of.

"I'm not crazy." Zhou Yang smiled, a hint of composure in his smile. "I'm just telling them, if they want to kill me, they can. But they'd better consider whether they can bear the consequences of my death. It's a deal."

He has always been a trader.

This time, however, the bargaining chip was his own life.

"Protect me." Zhou Yang placed the fragment on the table in front of him, then extended his left hand. "This process requires absolute silence, and it also requires your strength. Protect this room for me, protect my last breath."

Qin Shuang looked at his outstretched hand.

The hand was pale, long, and had distinct knuckles. It trembled slightly due to the depletion of spiritual energy.

But it stood there, like a mountain.

She remained silent for a long time.

Zhou Yang thought she would refuse after a long time.

In the end, she nodded.

"it is good."

There is only one word.

Yet it weighs as much as a thousand pounds.

Qin Shuang walked to the table and stood face to face with Zhou Yang. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword, and she warily surveyed her surroundings, like a silent guardian deity.

Zhou Yang took a deep breath and mobilized the last bit of his weak internal energy.

He extended his right index finger and gently traced a line on the palm of his left hand.

Neither sword nor knife was used.

It is merely a sharp edge formed by condensing true energy.

A tiny, bloody gash appeared in his palm.

Fresh blood slowly seeped out.

This blood was much brighter red than the blood he had coughed up before.

It is also much more precious.

This is the blood that is the source of his life.

He slowly placed his bleeding left hand on the cold fragment of the dragon's spine.

The blood, upon contact with the fragment, was not absorbed. Instead, it flowed slowly over an invisible barrier, gradually staining the ancient patterns red.

Zhou Yang closed his eyes.

His consciousness began to sink.

He felt his lifespan being irreversibly drawn away, compressed, and imprinted into that tiny fragment.

Time seemed to lose its meaning at this moment.

In the courtyard, the morning light grew brighter and brighter.

Qin Shuang gripped her sword, motionless, like a statue.

Her gaze fell on Zhou Yang's pale and focused face, and on the hand that was pressed tightly against the shard.

She knew that from this moment on, they were in the same boat.

A ship that could sink at any moment, heading towards the abyss.

Beyond the Chessboard

Outside Xuanwu Gate in the capital city, there is an inconspicuous Taoist temple.

The temple is named "Qingwei," but its incense offerings are sparse. On ordinary days, only one or two old Taoist priests doze off or sweep fallen leaves.

But tonight, there are no fallen leaves here.

All the doors inside the temple were closed, and the windows were covered with thick black cloth. The incense burner was not filled with sandalwood, but with a strange, spicy fragrance. The smoke swirled and condensed into bizarre shapes, lingering for a long time.

There was no statue of a deity in the center of the main hall.

There was only one enormous bronze compass. It was covered in runes that no one could understand, and instead of a single pointer, there were three, of varying lengths and materials.

A man dressed in a black Taoist robe was standing in front of the compass.

He looked very young, with a fair complexion, and even a somewhat frail appearance. His long, slender fingers were gently turning a string of ebony prayer beads. His movements were slow and patient, as if nothing in the world could stir the slightest ripple in him.

He is Xuan Chen, the highest-ranking official of the Heavenly Principle Sect in the capital.

Suddenly, Xuan Chen stopped fiddling with the prayer beads.

He raised his head, his gaze piercing through the roof of the main hall, as if he could see the night sky outside stained with blood.

For the first time, his brow furrowed.

"When the imperial star dims, a demonic star appears."

He muttered to himself in a very soft voice, as if he were talking in his sleep.

"The void... is bleeding."

Outside the palace, in the northeastern sky above the capital, the enormous, terrifying rift was slowly closing. But the mark it left behind, like a scar that would never heal, was etched into everyone's heart.

In Xuan Chen's eyes, the scene he saw was more concrete and more terrifying.

That's not a simple crack.

It was a higher-dimensional space, forcibly ripped open. He seemed to see countless tentacles, eyes, and other indescribable things surging behind the crack. They greedily peered into this world, like hungry wolves eyeing sheep in a pen.

Then, a golden light, like a giant red-hot sword, pierced through the crack and slashed fiercely at the spy.

God Wars.

This is a battle between real gods.

The land beneath their feet was nothing more than mud churned up by the fighting of giant beasts.

Xuan Chen's breathing became somewhat rapid. He wasn't afraid, but rather excited.

The excitement of a hunter seeing an extremely rare and precious prey.

He turned and walked to the bronze compass.

The three pointers were spinning wildly, emitting a mournful buzzing sound, as if something was forcibly interfering with the secrets of heaven. The runes on the edge of the compass flickered on and off, like a candle burning in the wind.

"Chaos... the source is too chaotic."

Xuan Chen extended a finger and touched the center of the compass.

A stream of extremely pure true energy slowly flowed into his body. His true energy was peculiar, carrying an ancient, decaying aura, like the wind blowing from an ancient tomb.

After the true energy was injected, the compass began to rotate more slowly.

The longest pointer, forged from star iron, came to a trembling stop. It pointed in one direction.

The northeast corner of the capital city.

Xuan Chen's eyes instantly turned as sharp as knives.

"It's you..."

Of course he knew who it was.

In the entire capital, there is only one "outlier" that can cause such chaos in the heavenly secrets.

That was Zhou Yang, a junior officer in the Imperial Guard.

A variable who should have died in the Heavenly Principles Sect's scheme, but escaped time and time again, and even killed one of their leaders.

"The messenger of a false god..."

A cold smile curled at the corner of Xuan Chen's mouth.

There is no God in the doctrines of the Tenrikyo sect.

They do not worship Buddha, nor do they respect Taoist masters, nor do they believe in ghosts or gods. They only believe in power, in the "spectators" who hold the chessboard. And the so-called gods, in their religious scriptures, are nothing more than a more powerful "false god" that has infiltrated from the outside. They are parasites, thieves, attempting to pollute the world and steal its foundation.

The struggle between "false gods" and "spectators" has lasted for countless years.

Tonight, this struggle has been brought into the open.

Zhou Yang was clearly a pawn, or even an envoy, placed by the "false god." He violated a taboo, provoking the anger of the "spectators" and the counterattack of the "false god."

"This is a catastrophe for us."

Xuan Chen spoke slowly, as if talking to thin air.

"But it is also an opportunity."

A perfect opportunity.

While two tigers are fighting, a fox might be able to scavenge some scraps. It might even be able to steal a bit of the tiger's strength.

"Holy Messenger".

A man in black appeared silently in the shadows of the hall, like a ghost, and knelt on one knee. His voice was hoarse, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.

"The situation outside..."

"You've all seen it." Xuan Chen waved his hand, gesturing for him to stand up. "Strange celestial phenomena, divine wrath and human resentment. The show is about to begin."

The man in black stood up. He was completely wrapped in black cloth, with only his eyes showing. In those eyes, there was no fear, only numbness.

"The 'outlier' you mentioned...?"

"It's him." Xuan Chen's gaze fell on the compass again. "Only he could cause such a commotion. He must have something bestowed by the 'False God.' And he used it."

Although the devastating energy fluctuations just now were brief, they did not escape the notice of the Heavenly Principle Sect.

That is a power that mortals should never touch.

"Holy Envoy, should we take action to eliminate him?"

"No."

Xuan Chen shook his head, his smile widening.

"To take action against him now would be to declare war on a 'false god.' We don't have that capability yet."

He paused, his eyes becoming deep and unfathomable.

"Besides, why rush to kill a mad dog that can still bite? Wouldn't it be better to let it bite someone else first?"

The man in black remained silent, waiting for what was to come.

Xuan Chen walked to the compass, stretched out his hand, and gently brushed the pointer towards the northeast.

"Look, the chessboard is in disarray. The spectators and the false gods are all staring at him. They think this is their game."

"What about our chess pieces?" the man in black couldn't help but ask.

"Our game is outside the chessboard."

Xuan Chen turned around and looked at the man in black.

"Pass on my orders."

"Yes."

"Initiate 'Project Thief'."

The man in black tensed up instantly. Even a seasoned assassin like him couldn't remain completely calm upon hearing the name of this plan.

"Holy Envoy! The 'The Stealing God Plan'... is far too risky! The last time we tried it was three hundred years ago, and we lost three Holy Envoys, only to obtain a useless projection of divine power..."

"Three hundred years ago, we were groping in the dark."

Xuan Chen interrupted him, his tone calm yet unquestionable.

"Now, things are different."

He pointed to the top of his head.

"The war of the gods has begun, and the rules will become blurred. The power of 'false gods' will infiltrate, and the spectators' blockade will weaken. This is the best, and only, opportunity."

"We don't need much." Xuan Chen stretched out his finger, gesturing a very small arc.

"Just a sliver. Just a sliver of true divine power, dripping into the 'altar' we've prepared. Then we will have succeeded."

The man in black stopped arguing. He simply bowed his head and said, "Yes."

"That Zhou Yang is a pawn of the 'False God,' and also bait to attract the attention of the spectators." Xuan Chen's thinking was frighteningly clear. "They will all be watching him. And their struggle will inevitably reveal their power. Our task is to catch that leaked power with a net when no one is paying attention."

"And Zhou Yang himself..."

"Don't touch him yet," Xuan Chen said. "He's like a boiling pot of water right now; anyone who touches him will get burned. Besides, he has more secrets than we imagine. Dragon Spine Fragment... Heh, something even a 'False God' is interested in must have its reasons."

"Then what do we do?"

"look."

Xuan Chen said calmly.

"Keep an eye on him. Report his every move to me. Who he meets, what he says, where he goes. I need to know exactly how he obtained power from the 'false god.'"

The man in black replied, "Understood. I'll arrange for 'Shadow' to go right away."

"No." Xuan Chen shook his head. "Send 'Rat' instead."

"mouse?"

"Shadow" is a top assassin of the Heavenly Principle Sect, skilled in assassination.

"Rat" are the most inconspicuous spies of the Heavenly Principle Sect. They mingle among all sorts of people, hiding in every dark corner of the city like real rats. They don't know martial arts, they can't kill, but their eyes and ears are everywhere in the city.

"A person about to be targeted by the gods will have no shortage of spies and experts around him," Xuan Chen analyzed. "If you send 'Shadow,' he might be discovered by other forces, or even wiped out by onlookers. But 'Rat' is different. He's just a pancake seller, a chamber pot collector, a beggar. Who would pay attention to a beggar?"

"All I need to know is whether the energy fluctuations in that area are coming from his yard. I need to confirm it."

The man in black suddenly realized.

"clever."

Xuan Chen ignored his flattery. He looked at the compass again, his eyes flashing with an almost fanatical light.

He seemed to see a golden, majestic divine power dripping from the crack in the sky, caught by the massive magic array he had prepared, and merging into the foundation of the Heavenly Principle Sect.

By then, who can still call them mortals?

Who would dare say they are merely pawns on a chessboard?

"Go."

Xuan Chen waved his hand, as if shooing away a fly.

The man in black bowed again, then disappeared into the shadows.

In the main hall, only Xuan Chen remained.

He slowly walked to a window, reached out, and gently pulled back a corner of the black cloth.

A ray of moonlight shone in, but it was a dark reddish-brown.

"Chess pieces on the board, fight and make a ruckus."

He chuckled softly, his voice filled with greed.

"The more fiercely they fight, the better."

"Your blood will nourish the most beautiful flowers."

"And I will sit outside the chessboard, admire the blooming of this flower, and then... pluck it."

Outside the window, the small courtyard in the northeast corner of Beijing was eerily quiet at this moment.

But in Xuan Chen's eyes, that place was like a sun about to burst forth, dazzling, scorching, and full of unpredictable dangers and opportunities.

He looked away and covered the black cloth again.

The main hall was plunged into darkness once again.

Only the three pointers on the bronze compass still flickered faintly, like three eyes peering into the abyss.

[Guanwen Pavilion]

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

For the past three days, Zhou Yang did nothing.

He didn't go to the Embroidered Uniform Guard's office, nor did he pay attention to the uproar outside caused by the "self-destruction of the Heavenly Principle Sect demon." He just stayed in the courtyard, eating, sleeping, and wiping the fragment of the dragon's spine.

The fragment lay quietly in his palm.

A cool touch, a heavy weight.

He spent a thousand years of his life to regain even a sliver of its divinity. Now, this fragment seems to have a faint breath, resonating subtly with his heartbeat.

He could sense that this thing contained an incredible secret.

A secret that would make even "gods" take notice.

The third day at dusk.

The afterglow of the setting sun tinged the stone path in the courtyard with a dark red hue.

Zhou Yang came out of the house.

He changed into a clean blue cloth robe, and his hair was neatly combed. Apart from his still somewhat pale complexion, there was nothing unusual about him.

Qin Shuang stood at the courtyard gate, still holding the Embroidered Spring Knife in her hand.

She's been standing here since morning, without saying a word.

Zhou Yang walked up to her.

"I'm going."

Qin Shuang looked at him, her lips moved, but in the end she only uttered two words.

"Take care of yourself."

Her voice was hoarse. Her eyes held a multitude of emotions: worry, reluctance, and a hint of fear that she herself was unaware of.

Fear of the legendary "Guanwen Pavilion," fear of the existence of the self-proclaimed "spectator."

Zhou Yang smiled.

"Don't worry, I'm not that easy to kill."

He reached out to help her tidy her wind-blown hair, but stopped halfway through.

Some things are better left unsaid.

He turned around and stepped out of the courtyard.

"I'll go with you." Qin Shuang followed.

Zhou Yang did not turn around.

"Guanwen Pavilion is for seeing the gods, not for visiting a temple fair. You can't go in."

"I'll wait for you outside."

Zhou Yang paused for a moment, then continued walking forward.

He did not refuse again.

The Guanwen Pavilion in the capital is located in the most remote corner of the imperial city. It is a solitary three-story building with blue tiles and gray walls, and it looks much older than the surrounding buildings.

This place is guarded by imperial guards year-round, but ordinary people never dare to approach it. Everyone knows that this place is haunted.

Legend has it that at midnight, one could hear the sounds of opera singing coming from the small building.

Zhou Yang stood in front of the attic.

The night wind was cold, making the hem of his clothes flutter.

He glanced back.

Qin Shuang stood in the shadows across the street, like a silent statue. Her hand never left the hilt of the knife.

Zhou Yang withdrew his gaze, took a deep breath, and pushed open the half-closed wooden door.

squeak-

The door hinges emitted a harsh, screeching sound.

Behind the door, there was neither the stairs nor the bookshelves as expected.

Instead, it was a pure, endless expanse of white.

There were no walls, no earth, and no sky.

Zhou Yang felt as if he had stepped into a bowl of thick, mushy rice porridge. The air around him was sticky and heavy, carrying a strange smell, like the musty smell of damp old book pages.

He no longer has a body.

Or rather, he can't feel his own body.

He became a floating consciousness.

Is this the interior of Guanwen Pavilion? A space of consciousness?

"Zhou Yang".

An idea popped into his mind.

It is not sound, it is not language.

It is a pure, cold, and unquestionable cognition.

Zhou Yang's consciousness "looked" in front of him.

There, a ball of light.

A shapeless mass of light, its color constantly shifting and changing. Sometimes it was a dazzling pure white, sometimes a deep indigo, and occasionally a hint of scarlet would flash through it.

Is it the "spectator"?

"Your existence is a mistake."

That thought came back to me again.

"Your actions have disrupted the balance of the script. Now, you need to be corrected."

Correction.

What cold words.

It's like a carpenter fixing a flawed piece of wood.

Zhou Yang felt no fear whatsoever. He even found it somewhat amusing.

"Correct me?" Zhou Yang responded telepathically, "On what grounds?"

"Because I am the writer. Because this world is my theater." The fluctuations of the light were very calm, as if stating a simple fact.

"The theater?" Zhou Yang's mind conjured up images of Beijing, the small courtyard, and Qin Shuang's face. "Those people, those events, were they all just a play in your eyes?"

"It's a play, yet it's not a play." The viewer's thoughts carried a hint of inhuman indifference. "The world needs logic, it needs balance. You broke the rules. You used a power that shouldn't exist to interfere with cause and effect."

Zhou Yang understood.

It speaks of the power to burn through one's lifespan to reach perfection. To this "spectator," this is a bug outside the system, gibberish that needs to be deleted.

"So, you want to erase me?"

"It's a correction," the spectator corrected, "to strip you from the main storyline, to reduce your existence to nothingness."

nothingness.

It is a complete death, leaving not even a trace.

Zhou Yang fell silent.

He neither begged for mercy nor showed anger.

He was just "floating" there, as if he was thinking about something.

A long time passed.

"What if I refuse?" Zhou Yang's thoughts echoed.

"You have no choice but to comply." The white light seemed to brighten slightly. "A divine decree, not to be disobeyed."

An indescribable pressure emanated from the ball of light.

That's not a force at the physical level.

Rather, it is a crushing force derived from the "rules" themselves.

Zhou Yang felt as if his consciousness had been thrown into a furnace, with countless tiny, cold needles piercing every corner of his mind, trying to completely disintegrate his "self" and break it down into the most primitive data.

His consciousness began to fade.

But he did not resist.

Instead, he voluntarily relaxed his resistance.

Just before his consciousness was about to be completely shattered by the pressure.

A completely new idea, like a seed, suddenly sprouted from the deepest part of his consciousness.

"You killed me."

Zhou Yang's thoughts suddenly became exceptionally clear, even carrying a hint of eerie laughter.

"Can."

"But do you dare?"

For the first time, the fluctuations in the light cluster showed a noticeable pause.

Images began to surface in Zhou Yang's mind.

It wasn't meant for him to see, but rather it was "broadcast" directly to that ball of light.

The video shows him repairing the fragments of the dragon's spine.

It was the sight of him burning through a thousand years of his lifespan, imprinting divine power into the fragments.

At a deeper level, it is the memory he inherited from Fang Tian.

It is the secret of the "divine core" worshipped by the Tianli Sect.

It was the mutation of the corpse poison in his body that created a strange resonance with the "Heavenly Dao" of this world.

Finally, the image freezes on the moment he just obtained the Dragonspine Fragment.

"This thing is called 'Dragon's Spine,' right?" Zhou Yang's thoughts, like a poisoned dagger, "are part of what you call the 'Anchor of the World.'"

"It tore through the 'void,' leaving a wound in your 'theater.' I suspect you've been unable to heal that wound."

"Now, I have repaired a part of it. I have connected with it using my 'life,' my 'cause and effect.'"

"Zhou Yang." A dangerous undertone lingered in the spectator's mind. "Are you threatening me?"

"No."

Zhou Yang's consciousness laughed.

"I'm making a deal with you."

"Erase me. Okay."

"But what about the 'Dragon Spine Fragment' that is deeply bound to me? It contains the karma of my thousand-year lifespan. Once this power loses me as its 'master,' it will go berserk."

"Will it completely collapse, or will it... produce an even more terrifying mutation?"

"A broken anchor of the world, at the heart of the 'theater,' experiences an unpredictable 'logical error.'"

Zhou Yang's thoughts, word by word, were like tolling a death knell.

"What do you call that? Garbled text? Or... a system crash?"

The entire pure white space suddenly trembled.

The ball of light began to flicker violently.

White, indigo, scarlet... countless colors intertwine wildly within, like a sun about to explode.

An indescribable, terrifying "rage" instantly filled the entire space.

This is not an emotion, but rather the subconscious release of power when a higher-dimensional being is touched on its most sensitive point.

Zhou Yang felt that his consciousness could be torn to shreds by this rage at any moment.

But he held on.

"You're asking for it!"

A chilling intent, carrying a ruthless and decisive will, descended.

Zhou Yang did not respond.

He simply "floated" there, opening up all his thoughts, revealing the causal chain of that dragon spine fragment to the audience without reservation.

Like a gambler revealing his last card.

He's gambling.

He's betting that this "spectator" won't dare let the world go wrong.

Time seems to have lost its meaning in this pure white space.

A moment felt like an eternity.

After an unknown amount of time, the violent energy fluctuations gradually subsided.

The light cluster stabilized, but its color was much dimmer than before.

"...You're qualified to sit at the poker table now."

For the first time, the spectators' thoughts were tinged with complex emotions. There was resentment, apprehension, and even a hint of...admiration?

Admire an ant that dares to overturn the table with God.

"What do you want to trade?" it asked.

"It's simple." Zhou Yang immediately got to the point. "I'll help you heal your so-called 'wounds.' You provide me with information, and... provide shelter."

"shelter?"

"Don't play dumb." Zhou Yang's mind sharpened. "Besides you, the 'landlord,' there are other 'evil neighbors,' right? Isn't that 'outer god' worshipped by the Heavenly Principle Sect your uninvited guest?"

"I'm not the only one attracted by the Dragon Spine fragments. I don't want to be constantly bothered by those things hiding in the gutter."

"You treat me like a repair tool, so I deserve the corresponding treatment. That's only fair."

Silence fell once again in the pure white space.

Spectators are evaluating the performance.

Assess Zhou Yang's value.

A tool to restore balance to the world. The risks are high, but the rewards... may be even greater.

"The deal is done."

After a long while, the spectators finally stopped talking.

"As an advance payment for the first transaction."

From within the ball of light, a sliver of light drifted out and entered Zhou Yang's consciousness.

A vast sea of information flooded in instantly.

The most fundamental record of this world.

A war between "Void" and "Reality".

The origin of "Dragon's Spine".

It's not some kind of divine weapon.

It was the "Anchor of the World," the last bulwark the real world used to resist the encroachment of the Void. Now it has shattered into nine pieces, scattered across the world.

The piece in Zhou Yang's hand is the most special one among the nine.

It can not only repair wounds, but also... locate other fragments.

The flood of information recedes.

Zhou Yang felt a wave of dizziness.

He got what he wanted.

"This protection..." Zhou Yang wanted to ask more.

"Before the 'transaction' is completed, any attempt to strip you of your power involuntarily will be considered an attack on the 'theater'."

The audience member interrupted him with a cold, detached expression.

This is the promise it makes.

A top-level, rule-based amulet.

Zhou Yang was satisfied.

This adventure was worth it.