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

cold.

Bone-chilling cold.

Zhou Yang shuddered.

He felt as if he had just been pulled out of an ice cellar. His limbs and bones felt like they were filled with lead, so heavy that he couldn't lift them.

Consciousness gradually returned.

First, he heard his own heartbeat, thump, thump, thump, slow but strong. Then he heard Qin Shuang's breathing, right beside his ear, soft and steady.

He opened his eyes.

Qin Shuang's face was very close to his.

Her eyes were filled with worry, like a deep pool that enveloped him completely.

"How is it?" she asked, her voice very low.

Zhou Yang tried to say "I'm fine," but only a hoarse, breathy sound came out. He licked his chapped lips, feeling as if there was sand stuck in his throat.

He tried moving his fingers, and thankfully, they obeyed.

Qin Shuang helped him lean against the wall.

She didn't ask any further questions, but simply took out a water pouch from her bosom and held it to his lips.

The cool water slid down his throat, and Zhou Yang felt the burning sensation subside somewhat.

He was finally able to speak.

"It's done."

Those two words exhausted all his strength. He leaned against the wall, panting heavily, his chest heaving violently.

Qin Shuang nodded, her gaze falling on his deathly pale face.

"What is the price?"

Zhou Yang twitched the corners of his mouth, trying to smile, but failed.

"It's nothing," he mumbled. "I'll be fine after a good night's sleep."

He didn't want to say that he felt like a tattered sack, his life force leaking out. He also didn't want to say that his lifespan might have been burned by an astronomical amount.

This is his secret, and also his asset.

Just then, a strange sound came from inside.

hum-

It was very low and continuous.

It was as if countless bees were fluttering their wings in the distance, or as if something was slowly waking up deep within the earth.

Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang exchanged a glance.

They both saw the wariness in each other's eyes.

This is not an ordinary sound.

Zhou Yang listened intently. He discovered that the sound was omnipresent, as if it didn't enter through his ears but rather drilled directly into his brain, causing a throbbing pain in his temples.

Pedestrians on the street also stopped in their tracks.

They looked around blankly, not knowing where the sound was coming from.

The vendors' cries stopped. The children's crying also stopped.

The whole world seemed to be filled only with this eerie buzzing.

Immediately afterwards, the ground began to tremble slightly.

It wasn't the violent shaking of an earthquake, but a tingling, continuous tremor. It felt like standing barefoot on a giant drum, being struck repeatedly with extremely light force.

A woman buying groceries dropped her basket, scattering vegetables and potatoes all over the ground.

She screamed in terror, "The earth dragon has turned over!"

That shout was like a drop of water falling into a boiling oil pan.

The crowd erupted instantly.

Panic spread like a plague. Screams, cries, and running filled the air.

Chaos descended without warning.

"Don't panic!" Some soldiers from the Beijing Garrison were maintaining order on the street, but their own voices were trembling.

Nobody listens to them.

People were like headless flies, bumping around aimlessly.

Zhou Yang leaned against the wall, coldly observing everything.

The weakness he felt was replaced by a strange sense of familiarity amidst the buzzing and tremors.

He felt that something was responding to him.

Or rather, it echoes the piece of debris in his arms that had just been "repaired".

He instinctively placed his hand on his chest.

Through the fabric, he could feel the fragment radiating a faint warmth.

The buzzing sound grew louder and louder.

The ground tremors became increasingly noticeable.

A thunderous roar came from afar.

No, it's not thunder.

It's the sound of water.

A tremendous roar of water, indescribable in words, surged toward the capital, as if the Milky Way had burst its banks.

Zhou Yang's pupils suddenly contracted.

He suddenly looked up and gazed in the north direction.

That place is the moat of the northern part of the capital.

At this moment, the once gently flowing moat is undergoing a terrifying transformation.

The river is flowing backwards.

It's not like a whirlpool flowing backwards.

Instead, the entire river seemed to be grabbed by an invisible giant hand and suddenly lifted upwards.

They defied all the laws of physics and soared into the sky.

Amidst the horrified gazes of countless people, a wall of water connecting heaven and earth rose from the ground.

It was so high that it seemed to have torn a hole in the entire night sky.

Moonlight spilled onto the water wall, reflecting a pale white light.

The wall of water was still, like a giant mirror.

But soon, the mirror moved.

The surface of the water wall began to ripple and bubble.

Immediately afterwards, one bump after another appeared on the wall.

The bumps gradually became clearer.

Those were faces.

Countless faces.

Men's, women's, the elderly's, and children's.

Their facial features were contorted and squeezed within the wall of water, their mouths opened silently, as if making the most painful roar.

Their eyes had no whites, only a bottomless blackness.

It was a pure despair that could devour all light.

The entire wall of water became a monument solidified from pain and wailing.

It stands in the north of the capital, like an evil god looking down on the world, silent yet full of malice.

A chilling, bone-deep aura enveloped the entire capital city as the water wall appeared.

It was a summer night, but the air felt as cold as the dead of winter.

Panic on the streets reached its peak.

"A monster! A monster indeed!"

Someone knelt on the ground, frantically kowtowing to the water wall, muttering something under their breath.

Many more people rushed towards the south city like madmen, as if staying even a second longer would mean being dragged into the monsters within the water wall.

The black uniforms of the Imperial Guards and the armor of the Beijing Garrison stood out starkly against the chaotic crowd.

They tried to build a defensive line, but it was no use.

Their knives, no matter how fast.

Their arrows, however sharp they may be.

How can we possibly cut through this catastrophic wall of water?

A Jinyiwei officer, who looked like a centurion, had a livid face. He drew his bow and nocked an arrow. A wolf-tooth arrow, infused with his inner strength, whistled out and shot towards the water wall with a sharp whooshing sound.

puff.

A soft sound.

It felt like shooting into a ball of cotton.

The wolf-tooth arrow, powerful enough to pierce steel plates, fell silent the moment it touched the wall of water. It was swallowed by the flowing water, leaving no trace.

The water wall remained completely still.

The faces above didn't even change their expressions.

The resolute look in the eyes of the Jinyiwei commander turned into horror.

Physical attacks are ineffective.

The same applies to the Imperial Guards.

A troop of heavily armored cavalry attempted to launch a charge.

The horses' hooves thundered as they pounded the stone pavement. But when they approached within a hundred feet of the water wall, all the warhorses, no matter how magnificent they were normally, began to whinny in terror, rearing up and becoming uncontrollable.

Even worse, several cavalrymen fell off their horses as soon as they charged past, convulsing and foaming at the mouth, as if they had been terrified out of their wits.

The water wall emitted not only a chilling aura, but also a strange power that directly affected the soul.

The Imperial Palace, the Forbidden City.

The Hall of Mental Cultivation.

Bright lights.

A gaunt old man, dressed in a Taoist robe with Bagua symbols, was bowing respectfully to the emperor. He was the Imperial Preceptor, Xuan Chen.

"Your Majesty, this is an ominous sign, a sign that extraterrestrial demons intend to invade our mortal realm! I beg Your Majesty to immediately issue a decree to seal off the city!"

The emperor's face was also very pale. He gripped the armrests of the dragon throne tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"Block the news! No one is to leak it! Imperial Guards and Embroidered Uniform Guards, move them all out! Get rid of that thing for me!" The emperor's voice was filled with anger and unease.

Xuan Chen sighed: "Your Majesty, mortal weapons cannot harm him in the slightest. This matter requires the intervention of us cultivators."

Without waiting for the emperor's response, he turned and left the palace.

He stood on the white jade steps in front of the hall, gazing at the water wall that stretched across the sky to the north, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

He raised his hand and formed a hand seal.

An ancient bronze mirror flew out from his sleeve, grew in the wind, and transformed into a mirror the size of a millstone.

The mirror-like surface shimmered and reflected the water wall.

The next moment, Xuan Chen suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood essence, spraying it all onto the mirror surface.

"Destroy the evil!"

He gave a low shout and quickly formed hand seals.

The bronze mirror shone brightly, and a thick, pillar-like golden beam shot out from it, carrying a majestic divine power, and crashed into the water wall.

boom!!!

A loud bang echoed throughout the capital.

Even Zhou Yang, who was far away in the south of the city, felt the ground beneath his feet suddenly shake.

He looked north.

The golden beam of light slammed into the water wall.

The wall of water churned violently.

Those pained faces, as if subjected to a tremendous shock, became even more distorted.

However, only a few breaths later...

The golden light... dimmed.

It's like throwing a clay ox into the sea.

That strike, which contained the life's cultivation of the Imperial Preceptor Xuan Chen, was actually absorbed by the water wall.

After doing all this, the water wall wasn't damaged in the slightest.

On the contrary, its momentum seems even stronger.

In front of the palace, the Imperial Preceptor Xuan Chen's face turned deathly pale. He staggered back a few steps and vomited another mouthful of blood.

He looked at his hands, his eyes filled with disbelief and horror.

That's not water.

It was a "matter" formed from pure malice and despair. His magic, ironically, became its nourishment.

The imperial advisor failed.

This news hit everyone like a hammer blow.

Upon hearing the news, the emperor in the palace immediately smashed his most beloved jade ruyi.

In the city, the other cultivators who had rushed over upon hearing the news, ready to make a name for themselves, all stopped in their tracks upon seeing this scene.

It's not that they're not afraid of death.

But what they feared even more was the kind of death where their principles and beliefs were devoured by the other side.

Hope seemed to have vanished at that moment.

The entire capital city was plunged into a deathly silence of despair.

People hid in their houses, peering through the cracks in the doors and windows at the "evil god" hanging between heaven and earth in terror.

They didn't know when that thing would fall down.

I wonder what it will look like after I fall down.

……

In a corner of the capital city, on an inconspicuous rooftop.

Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang stood side by side.

A cold wind blew the corners of their clothes.

Zhou Yang's body was still weak, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.

He stared intently at the wall of water.

He saw things more clearly than anyone else.

At the heart of that water wall, deep within those countless tormented faces, he "saw" a familiar aura.

It was an aura that shared the same origin as the fragment in his arms, yet was completely opposite.

If the fragments he just repaired represent "rules" and "creation".

That wall in front of us represents "chaos" and "erosion".

Like a thief who had just learned how to raid a tomb, he only pried open a crack in the coffin, which ended up waking up the giant zombie that had been sleeping inside for thousands of years.

"Did you do this?"

Qin Shuang's voice was very soft, yet it was like a needle piercing Zhou Yang's ear.

Zhou Yang did not turn around.

He remained silent.

This silence itself is an answer.

Qin Shuang's body stiffened for a moment.

She reached out, seemingly wanting to grab Zhou Yang's arm, but stopped halfway through.

She put it back into her sleeve.

"What can we do?" she asked.

There was no blame or fear in her voice, only a calm acceptance of reality.

She chose to stand with him.

Whatever the consequences.

Zhou Yang suddenly laughed.

He turned his head and looked at Qin Shuang.

"Do? We don't need to do anything."

His voice was still weak, but there was a sickly excitement in his tone.

"Look."

He pointed downwards.

There wasn't a single person running around on the streets anymore.

Everyone huddled at home, shivering.

In the distance, the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Imperial Guards set up layers of defenses, but those defenses were as fragile as paper. Everyone was just using this method to give themselves a pitiful sense of comfort.

"The chessboard is messed up."

Zhou Yang said softly.

"All the chess pieces were too scared to move."

"Those who hide in the shadows, thinking their opportunity has arrived, will surely be eager to act."

"And me..."

He lowered his head and looked at his chest.

"I got the thing that flipped the table."

This catastrophic disaster, this desperate divine punishment.

To others, it was the end of the world.

In his eyes, however, chaos was an opportunity.

An opportunity for him to break all the old rules and establish a new order.

He no longer needs to hide anything, no longer needs to be timid or hesitant.

From now on, everyone will be living at the same poker table as him.

A table that could tip over at any moment.

Qin Shuang looked at him.

Looking into his eyes, which shone terrifyingly bright in the pale moonlight.

She suddenly felt that the person in front of her was even more terrifying than the thing inside the water wall.

But for some reason, her heart calmed down instead.

She knew that no matter what happened, Zhou Yang would always find a way.

A madman's method, or a genius's.

"Your body..."

"It's nothing," Zhou Yang interrupted her. "It's just a small price to pay."

He looked at the wall of water again, his eyes becoming deep.

That was not his enemy.

That's his door.

A door leading to the unknown, to a stronger future, and also... a more dangerous future.

The backlash has already begun.

But for him...

The feast has only just begun.

Chaos is a ladder.

The night wind, carrying the fishy smell of the river, brushed against my face.

Qin Shuang tightened her grip on the sword.

She looked at the wall of water that stretched between heaven and earth.

It is not static.

It moved slowly, like a colossal beast come to life. The water churned and swirled. Blurred human faces took shape in the whirlpools, then shattered. A silent shriek seemed to pierce eardrums and reach the depths of the soul.

The entire capital was suffocated by this terrifying aura.

The streetlights had long been extinguished. People huddled in their homes, doors and windows tightly shut, trembling in the darkness. Occasionally, a suppressed cry or two could be heard, but it was quickly swallowed up by the boundless silence.

"We...we have to go." Qin Shuang's voice was a little dry. "The farther away from here the better. The Embroidered Uniform Guard's secret passage leads out of the city."

"Let's go?" Zhou Yang laughed.

He turned his head to look at Qin Shuang. His eyes shone frighteningly in the dim night. There was no fear in them, but rather a burning, almost morbid excitement.

"Why are you leaving?"

Qin Shuang frowned: "Zhou Yang, this is not something we can fight against. This is divine wrath!"

"Divine wrath?" Zhou Yang shook his head. He held up a finger and pointed at the wall of water.

"You see, it's not just randomly destroying everything."

Qin Shuang looked in the direction he was pointing.

She saw at the base of the wall of water that some low-lying houses had been smashed to pieces. But strangely, the rubble and beams were not swept away by the flood, but rather crushed into powder by an invisible force. The whole process was eerily quiet.

But not far in front of the water wall, a small earth god temple with faint spiritual energy remained intact. The water flowed around it on both sides, as if it had never been seen at all.

"It's searching," Zhou Yang said softly. "It's searching for prey. A kind of...prey that radiates a strong light."

Qin Shuang's heart sank. She thought of a possibility.

"Spiritual energy fluctuations?"

"That's right." Zhou Yang nodded. "The stronger the spiritual energy, the more it will attract its attention. Just like a torch in the dark, it will only attract moths."

He paused, then his smile became playful.

"Tell me, in this vast capital city, whose 'torch' shines the brightest?"

Qin Shuang understood instantly.

A name was squeezed out from between her teeth.

"Tenrikyo."

"You got it right." Zhou Yang snapped his fingers, his voice crisp.

He turned around, his back to the despairing wall of water, his expression as relaxed as if he were discussing the weather.

"The Heavenly Principle Sect staged a so-called 'God-Stealing Ritual' in the northeast corner of Beijing. They wanted to steal the divine essence of a false god and infuse it into their own leader. How could such a scheme to manipulate divine power be anything but a small affair?"

A cold smile curled at the corners of Zhou Yang's lips.

"They wanted to steal the god. Now, they've attracted the real 'god.' Only this god has a rather bad temper."

Qin Shuang finally understood.

Her gaze towards Zhou Yang shifted from initial anxiety to shock, and finally, to a deep sense of apprehension.

This man... he actually wanted to turn this natural disaster into a war.

"So, your plan is..."

"Let them fight," Zhou Yang said matter-of-factly. "Let the Heavenly Principle Sect bear the wrath of the gods. We just need to watch and wait."

"Wait until they are both severely weakened."

"No," Zhou Yang corrected, "we'll wait until the Heavenly Principle Sect is torn apart by divine wrath, and then we'll go in and pick up what we want."

His gaze swept over the embroidered spring knife at Qin Shuang's waist, and then looked at the faint shadow in the darkness behind her.

"Isn't this what you Imperial Guards do? Clean up the mess."

Qin Shuang did not answer immediately.

Her brain was working at lightning speed.

Zhou Yang's plan was audacious and reckless, yet... it precisely grasped the crux of all the problems. The Heavenly Principle Sect was a major threat; the Embroidered Uniform Guard had always wanted to eradicate them completely, but they were hampered by the sect's deep-rooted and complex influence.

And now, a golden opportunity has presented itself.

An opportunity created by the "gods".

They just need to sit back and wait for the fisherman to reap the benefits.

The risk is very small, and the potential reward is huge.

This is Zhou Yang's style. He always believes in trading with the lowest risk and the highest return.

"I need to know their exact location," Qin Shuang said in a deep voice, "the location of the ritual, and the core area of ​​the divine wrath's backlash. Only then can I deploy manpower to ensure everything goes smoothly."

She thought Zhou Yang would need time to investigate and analyze.

Unexpectedly, Zhou Yang simply closed his eyes.

"Hold on."

He reached out and gently pressed his temple.

Qin Shuang saw his face turn pale at a visible speed. Fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead. His body swayed slightly, as if he were bearing some enormous burden.

It lasted only for three breaths.

Three breaths later, Zhou Yang opened his eyes.

The pallor faded quickly, as if it were just an illusion.

He raised his hand and pointed to a direction in the northeast of the capital.

"Inside Dongzhimen, the former site of the grain granary. Underground. They hollowed out the entire warehouse."

He changed direction again, pointing deeper into the area.

"The energy of divine wrath will pour in from directly above. The most critical point of backlash is at the altar on the third underground level. The energy there is the most violent."

Qin Shuang's heart clenched painfully.

She knew that this was yet another drain on her lifespan.

In order to derive these two incredibly precise coordinates, he once again burned his life.

This man is ruthless to himself to the core.

"There's another way." Zhou Yang's tone was calm, as if he had just taken a deep breath.

"Go into the alley west of the Lu Mi Cang and walk to the end. There is a dry well. Five zhang below the well wall, there is an abandoned underground channel that leads directly to the second basement level. That is the weak point of the backlash energy, and also... the place where the Heavenly Principle Sect's defenses are most lax."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Qin Shuang.

"Lord Centurion, can you now arrange your men?"

Qin Shuang took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions in her heart.

She took a small bamboo tube from her waist, uncorked it, and blew three short whistles.

The whistle was sharp, but it didn't travel far, as if swallowed by the night.

Soon, from the surrounding darkness, shadowy figures silently emerged. They knelt on one knee, heads bowed, like lurking ghosts.

"Pass on my orders." Qin Shuang's voice was calm and decisive. "Squad One, Squad Two, block all exits of Dongzhimen. Let people pass, but do not allow them to enter. Squad Three, Squad Four, deploy defenses around the Lumi Granary. Archers, take to the rooftops. Anyone who comes out alive from inside, kill them without mercy."

"Fifth team, follow me."

She stared intently at Zhou Yang.

"Zhou Yang, is this road... safe?"

"There's no absolutely safe road," Zhou Yang said frankly. "Only relatively safe ones. Once inside, we have to adapt to the situation. We're not going to fight a war; we're going to collect corpses. Of course, we might also become someone else's corpse."

He took the fragment of the dragon's spine from his pocket.

The fragments were cold and carried a faint smell of blood.

This is his greatest source of confidence.

"Let's go." He took the first step, "While it's hot."

Without hesitation, Qin Shuang led five teams of elite Imperial Guards to follow closely behind.

The group of more than a dozen people, like a drop of ink, silently blended into the deepest night of the capital.

The streets were deserted.

Only the eerie light cast by the water wall stretched long, distorted shadows on the bluestone path.

The fishy smell of the river grew stronger in the wind, mixed with a faint... burnt smell.

It looked as if something was being scorched by the high temperature.

That was the power of divine wrath, beginning to manifest.

The granary was already in sight.

It was a huge, abandoned granary. The vermilion gate was tightly shut, and the stone lions at the entrance were half-buried in the ground, covered with moss.

It's eerily quiet here.

But Zhou Yang knew that beneath this silence lay a different scene.

Deep underground, the followers of the Heavenly Principle Sect may still be making final preparations for their grand ceremony. Unbeknownst to them, a vast net woven by both gods and mortals has already been silently cast over the land.

Zhou Yang stopped at the entrance of the alley on the west side.

It was very narrow, only wide enough for two people to walk side by side. It was pitch black inside, and you couldn't see anything.

"This is it," he said softly.

Qin Shuang nodded to him and waved to signal the people behind her to stop.

She and Zhou Yang exchanged a glance.

"My life is in your hands." Qin Shuang's voice was soft, but incredibly firm.

Zhou Yang grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"Don't worry. My life is precious. Before I die, I'll definitely take you with me."

He turned and stepped into the endless darkness.

Qin Shuang followed closely behind.

The Embroidered Spring Blade was drawn, its light flashing briefly in the darkness before disappearing like a firefly gone.

Gods vs. Ants

The tunnel is very narrow.

Zhou Yang walked in front, with Qin Shuang following closely behind.

The air was thick with the earthy smell of soil, and a faint odor of decay. It was the air of bygone ages. Darkness, like thick ink, swallowed everything. Only the sounds of their breathing and the soft crunch of their footsteps on the loose earth could be heard.

Zhou Yang's steps were steady. He seemed to know everything about this place.

Qin Shuang gripped the embroidered spring knife, its scabbard scraping softly against the wall. She couldn't see Zhou Yang's expression, but she could sense him. The figure before her was as calm as a stone. Or perhaps, like a wolf that had locked onto its prey.

"How much further?" she asked in a low voice.

"Soon," Zhou Yang replied.

Finally, a glimmer of light appeared ahead.

It wasn't lamplight. It was a grayish-white light, like moonlight, but colder and more deathly.

The exit was blocked by a stone slab. Zhou Yang reached out, pressed against the slab, and slowly applied force. Without a sound, the slab seemed to be pushed open by an invisible hand, revealing a crack.

A cold wind blew in.

It was damp and had a strange, sweet, fishy smell.

Zhou Yang peeked out, then quickly withdrew. He gestured to Qin Shuang, signaling her to follow.

The two crawled out of the tunnel.

This is the interior of an artificial hill. Outside are several long-rotted firing ports. Their position overlooks the entire courtyard of the Taoist temple.

In the center of the courtyard, the scene was eerie.

Dozens of members of the Heavenly Principle Sect, dressed in white robes, formed a large circle. They sat cross-legged, each facing the center, chanting incantations. Blood-red runes were drawn on their foreheads. Those runes seemed to come alive, slowly writhing beneath their skin.

In the very center of the circle stood a person.

The man wore a holy emissary's robe, embroidered with cloud patterns in gold thread. His face was gaunt, but his eyes shone with an eerie light. He stood with his arms outstretched, gazing up at the sky. There was no moon in the sky, only a thick, seemingly solidified cloud.

"In the name of the Lord, drawing upon the power of the void, I cleanse the mortal world!"

The holy envoy's voice was hoarse, yet it resonated throughout the entire Taoist temple.

As he chanted, the ground began to tremble. The crimson runes on the cultists grew brighter and brighter, and streaks of blood spread from their bodies, converging on the ground.

A huge and complex formation slowly emerged from the ground.

The formation was composed of countless twisted symbols and lines. The aura it emitted made Qin Shuang's heart tremble. It was a pure, frenzied desire to tear everything apart.

Zhou Yang's gaze, however, bypassed the frenzied array and looked towards the water wall surrounding the Taoist temple.

That wall of water looked like something alive.

It is no longer peaceful.

The face on the water, with its pupil-less eyes, was staring intently at the holy envoy in the center of the courtyard. There was no anger, no murderous intent. Only a cold, indifferent detachment, as if looking at an insect.

"Here it is," Zhou Yang said softly.

Before the words were even finished, the holy envoy's ceremony reached its climax.

"open!"

He roared angrily.

The central array shone brightly. A visible crack tore open directly above the array. It wasn't a spatial rift, but rather more like a puncture in some kind of thin membrane of a world. Thick, chaotic, and filthy energy poured down from the crack, flooding into the Holy Envoy's body.

The envoy's body suddenly swelled up, as if countless tiny snakes were wriggling beneath his skin. He let out a satisfied groan.

Just then, the water wall moved.

There was no loud noise, no impact.

That enormous human face merely "looked" over.

The next instant, a will blacker than ink and colder than the abyss shot out from the wall of water. It ignored distance and physical barriers, descending directly upon the Holy Envoy.

This is a clash of beliefs.

The pure, fervent faith of the followers of the Heavenly Principle Sect coalesced into a golden shield, protecting the Holy Envoy. That golden shield was warm and sacred, filled with order and majesty.

But, only for a moment.

The black will collided with the golden light shield.

There was no explosion.

The golden aura, like paper dampened with water, quickly corroded, faded, and then vanished without a trace. The corrupt divine power utterly destroyed the faith of mortals.

"puff!"

All the seated believers suddenly coughed up a mouthful of black blood. The fanaticism on their faces instantly turned to terror, then emptiness. Their bodies went limp, and they collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Their faith was shattered.

The holy envoy was the first to be affected.

His smug smile froze. A thin black line appeared on his forehead. The line rapidly expanded, becoming a writhing void.

"No...this can't be...this is...this is..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

A corrupt will rushed into his body and began to transform him madly.

"ah--!"

A piercing scream, unlike any human voice.

His body was like a lump of kneaded clay, his bones cracking with a sickening sound. His skin was torn apart, and instead of flowing outwards, flesh and blood "grew" outwards. Slippery tentacles covered with suckers burst forth from his back, chest, and arms.

The tentacles thrashed wildly, pulverizing everything around them.

His face was melting too. His features twisted, squeezed together, and then recombine. His eyes didn't disappear; instead, they multiplied. Compound eyes of varying sizes, growing from his flesh, split open all over his skin, each one turning, filled with chaos and hunger.

He is no longer human.

He was a... thing. A monster made of tentacles, compound eyes, and sharp teeth.

Power. An unprecedented power surged within him. But everything about him—reason, memories, emotions—was completely wiped away, leaving only the most primal instinct to kill.

"roar!"

The transformed saint let out a beast-like roar.

He stomped his foot down.

The hard bluestone floor collapsed instantly, creating a bottomless pit. Inside the Taoist temple, a side hall used to enshrine the Three Pure Ones crumbled inch by inch from its base amidst a roar. Roof tiles slid off in a rustling sound, and the wooden beams groaned under the weight before collapsing with a deafening crash.

Smoke and dust billowed into the sky.

On the outskirts, on the hillside.

The Imperial Guards were stunned by this sudden turn of events.

They are closest to us, and their feelings are the most genuine.

That mental shockwave, like an invisible giant hammer, slammed into everyone's minds.

An experienced old flag officer's hand, gripping his sword, trembled uncontrollably. His legs went weak, and he almost collapsed to his knees. He had killed people, seen blood, and even fought with martial arts masters. But he had never witnessed anything like this.

That wasn't a fight.

That was the wrath of the gods.

A young junior officer, his face ashen, stared at the monster roaring amidst the ruins in the distance. His stomach churned, and he could no longer hold it in, bending over and vomiting violently.

Fear spread among the people like a plague.

That was not fear of a powerful enemy.

It was a tremor from the depths of their souls at the unknown, at something beyond the realm of comprehension. Before that power, their embroidered spring knives and their painstakingly practiced martial arts seemed as insignificant as a joke.

Some people instinctively wanted to back away.

"Those who retreat will be executed!"

A clear, cold voice pierced through the chaos.

Qin Shuang stood on a rock, the tip of her embroidered spring knife pointing diagonally at the ground. Her face was somewhat pale, but her eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's.

One of her hands was pressed tightly against the hilt of the knife at her waist. Her knuckles bulged slightly from the pressure. She was forcing herself to calm down.

Zhou Yang's words were still ringing in her ears.

"The more fiercely they fight, the better."

"wait."

What was she waiting for? She didn't know. But she chose to believe him.

Her voice injected a powerful boost of confidence into the chaotic group.

Those wavering Imperial Guards seemed to have found their leader. They gritted their teeth and gripped their swords tightly again. Although fear remained, their formation was no longer broken.

"Pass down the order!" Qin Shuang's voice rang out again, decisive and clear. "Everyone, hold your ground! Without my command, do not advance even a single step! Do not fire an arrow! Do not draw your sword! Anyone who disobeys will be punished according to military law!"

"Yes, sir!"

His men responded loudly.

His voice still trembled slightly, but it had already regained its discipline.

Qin Shuang's gaze passed over the crowd and looked towards the direction of the artificial hill.

There, Zhou Yang was quietly looking out through the firing port, as if the devastating scene outside was just a drama that had nothing to do with him.

What did he see?

Qin Shuang's heart inexplicably calmed down.

Inside the artificial hill.

Zhou Yang's eyes were indeed very calm.

Even with a hint of... interest.

He didn't look at the mutated monster. His gaze remained fixed on the wall of water.

That monster was merely a trigger. A contaminated, out-of-control catalyst.

The true source of power is that thing inside the wall.

It is testing...

By attacking the Holy Envoy, it is testing the "rules" of this world. It is testing the power of faith, the limits of martial arts, and even the capacity of this plane to withstand pressure.

Each test adds a touch more "real" power to the world.

What Zhou Yang was waiting for was the moment when it would fully "arrive".

It will only have a "weakness" when it fully arrives and exposes itself completely to the rules of this world.

Before this, any attack would be futile.

That wasn't a fight, that was suicide.

He watched the monster roar in the ruins, watched it wave its tentacles, and watched it almost level a Taoist temple.

The surrounding air thickened, filled with that sweet, metallic smell. It was the trace left by a higher-dimensional force as it eroded this world.

If ordinary people stay here for too long, their minds will probably be polluted and they'll go crazy.

But Zhou Yang was like a fish that had returned to the water.

He could even feel the dragon spine fragment he had just repaired was slightly warm. It wasn't a passive burning sensation, but rather a kind of... resonance.

It felt like the excitement of encountering someone of the same kind.

"nice one."

A smile, incomprehensible to others, appeared on Zhou Yang's lips.

His life was not wasted.

What lies behind that door is far more precious than he imagined.

He turned around and glanced at Qin Shuang beside him.

She stood on the rock, her posture upright, like a javelin. She calmed everyone's nerves.

He was right about the person.

This woman is more than just a wealthy sugar daddy.

She is a good sheath that can withstand any pressure.

And his knife was already itching for a bite.

Zhou Yang turned back and looked at the ruins again.

The mutated holy messenger had ceased its unconscious destruction. Its countless compound eyes began to scan the surroundings, as if searching for a new target.

Its gaze seemed to sweep over the ruins and land on the Imperial Guards on the hillside.

"roar--!"

It let out a roar, and countless tentacles suddenly retracted and then shot out like cannonballs, rushing towards the hillside with a shriek!

That's too fast.

So fast that it's almost impossible to see with the naked eye.

The Imperial Guards on the perimeter narrowed their eyes sharply. The shadow of death instantly enveloped them.

Just then.

"Don't be afraid."

Zhou Yang's voice was soft, yet it reached Qin Shuang's ears clearly.

"Keep watching."

His voice carried a strange magic.

Qin Shuang subconsciously resisted the urge to order a block.

She saw that just as the tentacles were about to reach the hillside, they stopped.

It was like hitting an invisible wall.

The tentacles twisted and thrashed wildly in the air, but could not move an inch.

That wall of water seemed to have given some kind of instruction to its "children".

The mutated holy messenger, or rather, the monster, seemed to realize this as well. It let out a resentful roar, and its tentacles retracted.

Its massive body paced restlessly through the ruins.

It seems to be confined to the area within this Taoist temple.

It was testing the waters, but that "god" didn't seem to allow it to leave yet.

"I see," Zhou Yang muttered to himself.

"It's setting up an... altar."

He looked at the ruins. The destroyed Taoist temple, the dead believers, and the monster itself—everything was arranged and combined according to some kind of pattern.

A geometry that Zhou Yang had never seen before, full of evil and madness.

"It is using this Taoist temple, these believers, and this monster as coordinates to construct a stable 'anchor point' for its arrival."

"Once this anchor point is completed, it can descend without any hindrance."

"And what we need to do," Zhou Yang's eyes shone with an astonishing light, "is to snatch it away the moment the anchor point is completed."

He turned his head and flashed a set of white teeth at Qin Shuang.

"Are you ready, my... Lord Qin?"

"The real business is about to begin."

I am the rule.

The battlefield was like a pot of boiling sewage.

The stench of blood mingled with the acrid smell of burning flesh, swirling into a nauseating vortex in the night sky. Amidst the ruins of the Taoist temple, limbs and remains lay intertwined, bits of flesh...

Zhou Yang stood three zhang away.

He could feel that space distorting. Every struggle of the mutated envoy was like someone cutting the edge of this world with a blunt knife—it wasn't just simple power, but something deeper was collapsing.

Runes flowed through my mind.

This is what the spectator gave him. It's not martial arts, not techniques, but an "understanding." An understanding of how the rules work, an understanding of how reality is...

How the weaving can be pried open and altered.

"Did you see that?" he whispered.

Qin Shuang was right beside him. Her embroidered spring knife was already drawn, its blade appearing somewhat dim in the distant firelight. She didn't answer, only nodded.

Zhou Yang squatted down.

Fingers touching the ground.

He didn't draw anything. His fingertips traced a faint mark on the ground—not an ink stain, but a sense of "dissonance." Like a jarring note suddenly inserted into a harmonious melody, or a fingerprint pressed into a smooth sheet of paper.

The runes are very simple.

Spectators called it a "reality stabilizer." It sounds impressive, but it simply tells the space to stay the way it is.

Don't change.

The monster was still roaring.

It seemed to have sensed something. The mutated body turned this way, its bloodshot eyes—if they could still be called eyes—staring intently at Zhou Yang on its rotting face. To be precise, it was staring at the almost invisible mark on the ground.

"Stop him." A voice rolled in its throat.

It's not it talking. It is.

The thing that dwells within its body. That "Outer God's Will".

Zhou Yang smiled.

"Your home turf, isn't it?" he said softly. "Sorry, that's my rule."

He stepped on that mark.

The runes lit up.

It wasn't light. It was a kind of "freezing." The space within a three-zhang radius of the Holy Envoy was like being thrown into an extremely cold lake, rapidly solidifying. The invisible fluctuations, distortions, and forming "anchor points" in the air all stopped.

This is an extremely delicate balance.

It's like someone made a punch in this space.

A dead knot.

The alienated envoy froze in his tracks.

It remained leaning forward, its muscles taut, like a frozen sculpture. The rolling sound in its throat abruptly ceased, replaced by a dull panting—it was trying to break free, but each struggle felt like moving in deep water, slow, stagnant, and excruciatingly painful.

Qin Shuang's eyes lit up.

"This is......"

"An equivalent exchange," Zhou Yang said. "I used my lifespan to buy out the physical rules of this area."

His voice was calm.

But Qin Shuang could see his eye twitching.

It wasn't a physical spasm, but something deeper was slipping away—his time was being drawn away, consumed, and used to maintain this "shackle."

"How long can it last?" she asked.

"That's enough for you to kill him ten times over," Zhou Yang said, "but I'll suggest just once."

Qin Shuang smiled.

She's never been one to hesitate.

The Embroidered Spring Blade was drawn.

The blade flashed like snow, cutting through the night sky.

This strike had no fancy moves.

Only speed, accuracy, and ruthlessness matter.

The blade sliced ​​into the mutated angel's neck as easily as cutting a piece of rotten wood. The resistance was less than expected—its power was suppressed by the rules, and now it had truly become an ordinary person, a rotten, twisted, and tormented ordinary person.

The head flew off.

Blood spurted three feet high.

The "thing" screamed shrilly.

It didn't come through sound, but echoed throughout the entire space. The piercing shriek made Qin Shuang's face turn pale, and she staggered. Zhou Yang caught her.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "The anchor point is broken; it can't go back."

indeed.

The holy messenger fell to the ground.

The forming "anchor point" is like a broken mirror, shattered into countless pieces. The distorted lines and chaotic geometry in the space are rapidly fading and dissipating.

Everything is returning to normal.

Only the rune marks on the ground were still faintly glowing.

Zhou Yang stared at the headless corpse.

His expression was complex.

"I'm leaving." He released Qin Shuang. "I have important business to attend to."

Qin Shuang nodded.

She glanced at Zhou Yang but said nothing. But she knew that what he had just done must have taken a toll.

The two turned around.

Behind them, the battlefield was gradually subsiding.

I am the rule.

The battlefield is like a pot of boiling sewage.

The stench of blood mingled with the acrid smell of burning flesh, swirling into a nauseating vortex in the night sky. Amidst the ruins of the Taoist temple, limbs and remains were piled up haphazardly, with bits of flesh splattered all over the broken walls.

The alienated holy messenger was in the center of those ruins.

Its body was no longer recognizable as human. Its flesh melted and solidified like wax, and its spine pierced through the skin, bending into a deformed bow on its back. Its mouth was open to its limit, and black mucus dripped from the corners of its mouth, each drop corroding the ground with a sizzling sound.

It is roaring.

It wasn't threatening anyone. It was struggling. It was as if a dull knife was repeatedly cutting into its soul, causing it to suffer to the point of losing its mind.

Zhou Yang stood three zhang away.

He could feel that space distorting. Every struggle of the mutated envoy was like someone cutting the edge of this world with a blunt knife. It wasn't just simple power, but something deeper was collapsing.

Runes flowed through my mind.

This is what the spectator gave him. It's not martial arts, not techniques, but an "understanding." Understanding how the rules work, understanding how reality is woven, how it is manipulated, and how it is altered.

"Did you see that?" he whispered.

Qin Shuang was right beside him. Her embroidered spring knife was already drawn, its blade appearing somewhat dim in the distant firelight. She didn't answer, only nodded.

Zhou Yang squatted down.

Fingers touching the ground.

He didn't draw anything. His fingertips traced a faint line on the ground. Not an ink mark, but a sense of "dissonance." Like a jarring note suddenly inserted into a harmonious melody.

The runes are very simple.

Spectators called it a "reality stabilizer." It sounds impressive, but it simply tells the space to stay the way it is.

Don't change.

The monster was still roaring.

It seemed to have sensed something. The mutated body turned this way, its bloodshot eyes—if they could still be called eyes—staring intently at Zhou Yang on its rotting face. To be precise, it was staring at the almost invisible mark on the ground.

"Stop him." A voice rolled in its throat.

It's not the thing that's speaking. It's the thing residing within its body. That "Outer God's Will".

Zhou Yang smiled.

"It's your home turf, isn't it?" he said softly. "Sorry, that's my rule."

He stepped on that mark.

The runes lit up.

It wasn't light. It was a kind of "freezing." The space within a three-zhang radius of the Holy Envoy was like being thrown into an extremely cold lake, rapidly solidifying. The invisible fluctuations, distortions, and forming "anchor points" in the air all stopped.

The alienated holy envoy paused in his movements.

It remained leaning forward, its muscles taut, like a frozen sculpture. The rolling sound in its throat abruptly ceased, replaced by a muffled panting. It was trying to break free, but each struggle felt like moving in deep water—slow, stagnant, and excruciatingly painful.

Qin Shuang's eyes lit up.

"This is……"

"An equivalent exchange," Zhou Yang said. "I used my lifespan to buy out the physical rules of this area."

His voice was calm.

But Qin Shuang could see his eyes twitching. It wasn't a physical spasm, but something deeper was slipping away—his time was being taken away and consumed.

"How long can it last?" she asked.

"That's enough for you to kill him ten times over," Zhou Yang said, "but I'll suggest it once."

Qin Shuang smiled.

She's never been one to hesitate.

The Embroidered Spring Blade was drawn.

The blade flashed like snow, cutting through the night sky.

This strike had no fancy moves. It was simply fast, accurate, and ruthless. The blade sliced ​​into the mutated envoy's neck as easily as cutting through a piece of rotten wood. The resistance was less than expected—its power was suppressed by the rules.

The head flew off.

Blood spurted three feet high.

The "thing" let out a piercing scream. Not through sound, but echoing throughout the entire space. Qin Shuang's face paled, and she staggered. Zhou Yang caught her.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "The anchor point is broken; it can't go back."

indeed.

The holy messenger fell to the ground.

The forming "anchor point" is like a broken mirror, shattered into countless pieces. The distorted lines and chaotic geometry in the space are rapidly fading and dissipating.

Everything is returning to normal.

Only the rune marks on the ground were still faintly glowing.

Zhou Yang stared at the headless corpse.

His expression was complex.

"I'm leaving." He released Qin Shuang. "I have important business to attend to."

Qin Shuang nodded.

She glanced at Zhou Yang but said nothing. But she knew that what he had just done must have taken a toll.

The two turned around.

Behind them, the battlefield was gradually subsiding.

Cleaning

Under the cover of night, the remaining disciples of the Heavenly Principle Sect scattered like broken candles in the wind. Zhou Yang remained vigilant; the distant wind still carried the lingering echoes of broken runes. He turned to look at Qin Shuang, not only a comrade-in-arms but also his most familiar partner on the battlefield.

She led several elite members of the Imperial Guard into the courtyard, their waists adorned with specially made copper-chained crossbows and silver-lipped daggers. Each time those weapons fired, they smoothed out the piercing chill, leaving only clean cracks. Qin Shuang approached the broken bookshelf, her eyes gleaming with a cold, calculating light.

"South Gate, cover the retreat," she whispered the order. The Imperial Guards advanced step by step, following her lead. She wielded her embroidered spring blade; its light, like fine rain, swept across the corpses and took away a few wisps of light. The remaining figures on the battlefield were swiftly cleared, leaving no room for counterattack.

Zhou Yang walked on the central earthen steps, his ankles stained with grayish-black mud. He noticed the runes spreading along the base of the wall, like serpentine patterns. The holy envoy ahead was pressed down by the runes, his chest still heaving violently, yet he could almost hear his heart pounding in his chest. The runes tightly gripped his soul, leaving him only a moment of clarity.

"Zhou Yang." Qin Shuang handed him a short gourd from the side, used to clear away the remaining poison gas. Her face still bore the marks of the previous battle, but her eyes held no fear. Her signal caused the team to split into small triangles and block the exit.

Zhou Yang did not respond. He slowly stepped closer to the holy envoy trapped within the talisman array. Although the man was semi-transparent, his pupils were clearly visible. His consciousness was struggling, seemingly bound by some kind of shackle. When he saw Zhou Yang, he abruptly opened his eyes, which were filled with a white light tinged with shock and fear.

"You..." he managed to utter two words, his voice filled with endless command. Zhou Yang smiled at this, his hand wrapped with the golden threads of a runic glove, and gently pressed it against the envoy's forehead. It was a kind of instinctive pattern from a half-corpse, directly activating the remaining nerves in the human body. Zhou Yang's palm radiated warmth, like a taut string, ready to be released at any moment.

"The language of the gods." The holy messenger finally uttered the words, his consciousness, briefly swayed by the runes, clearing. "Not...a mortal...can use..."

Zhou Yang didn't answer, but simply opened his mouth and inhaled a wisp of dark current. His fingertips traced his forehead, carrying away the chill of the runes. At the same time, he began to murmur, the words like shattered jade falling on stones, carrying an ancient rhythm.

Those were fragments of the language of God, pieced together from memory. The envoy's eyes widened suddenly, his pupils contracted, and his face turned pale. "You...you understand...that...murmur..." He could barely speak, yet he still remembered that prayer.

Zhou Yang pressed his hand down harder, the runes shattering like glass, his divine soul reaching into the bloodline of the holy envoy. The characteristics of a half-corpse were fully activated at this moment; like miasma drawing in, he sucked in the man's memories and lifeline. The holy envoy's body convulsed, but he dared not move. Through the suppression of his instinctive vanguard, he could feel himself being hollowed out, yet he was powerless to resist.

Qin Shuang heard the sound approaching and came over to observe. She frowned slightly but didn't stop them. She knew this was Zhou Yang's method: a touch of ruthlessness, a touch of precision. She whispered, "There's still movement, don't let it slip by."

On the other side, the Embroidered Uniform Guard had already incorporated a small group of remnants. A swift, sharp crack of the fire-copper whip swept across, the sparks exploding like fruit. The remaining members of the Heavenly Principle Cult were forced to kneel, their breathing heavy, ash from talismans scattered on their bodies. The distance between Qin Shuang and Zhou Yang shortened, their pace quickening.

The envoy's breathing weakened. His memories, like withered vines, still clung stubbornly to him in a few strands. Zhou Yang grasped that thread, transforming it into an image. He saw the lines of the dragon's spine fragment: a black stone, a silver light, reconstructed between the valleys. It wasn't just a fragment of power, but also coordinates pointing to a location.

He reached out and removed the talisman worn by the holy envoy; the talisman shattered. Light flickered in his palm, projecting a triangular map. A surge of heat coursed through Zhou Yang's lifespan. When that information entered his mind, he felt as if a dozen layers of light had been added to his body, like filling an empty air sac.

"Fragments of the Dragon's Spine... the storm of the North Ridge... a line of three points... a crystal tower at the end..." the envoy murmured, his voice hollow. In reality, Zhou Yang was listening to his longing. With just a little more memory, he could piece together the map.

"Stop." Qin Shuang's gaze narrowed to his profile, a new kind of wariness creeping into her gloomy expression. She whispered, "What's your price? Don't lie to me."

Zhou Yang looked up, his gaze softening for a second. "What I extracted from him was what they truly wanted to hide. Don't worry, I won't ask for anything more."

He withdrew the lingering echo of the divine language, and in an instant, Zhou Yang, like a taut bowstring, channeled his remaining strength into a cleansing technique against the Heavenly Principle Sect. He withdrew his hand from the Holy Envoy's forehead, the lines on his back undulating like translucent wings fluttering within him. The moist sensation made him feel as if his lifespan was flowing back.

"I can feel it," he said to Qin Shuang in a low voice.

The man could no longer hold on; his body flickered with light before turning into a wisp of black smoke, instantly sucked into the ground by the rune array. The runes collapsed, and the body of the Heavenly Principle Sect's envoy crumbled like sand. They picked up the map fragment, a tiny purple beam of light swirling in the air.

The remaining members of the Embroidered Uniform Guard knelt down instantly. They seemed to have been gripped tightly by some hand, losing all will to resist. Qin Shuang told them to rise and gave the order: "Record their names and deliver them to Shenlin Fortress." She looked down at Zhou Yang, "Be careful of bloodshed; don't leave too much behind."

"All done," Zhou Yang replied. He turned his back to the rising black smoke, feeling the oppressive pressure on his soul. A wisp of cold wind brushed past his neck, carrying the lingering numbing and spicy smell. He closed his eyes briefly, his heartbeat returning to steady.

The Heavenly Principle Sect was wiped out. The remaining followers either died in the night or were controlled. Their traces were eradicated, leaving only fluttering gray gauze in the courtyard. Qin Shuang stood on the stairs, her knife still drawn. She stared at the dark stain in the distance, as if recalling something.

Zhou Yang walked to her side and handed her the reconstructed map. The map trembled in the night wind, the broken silver lines piecing together a dot. He placed his hand on it, his lips moving softly as he tried to decipher the divine language within.

"North Ridge...the cliffs of Southfall...the Crystal Tower...the Dragon's Spine." Some of the words he recited were his own rewrites, but the meaning was still clear. He withdrew his hand and handed the map to Qin Shuang. She took it, her fingertips slightly warm.

"We'll add a few more drawings," she said, her tone flat. "I'll come find you after you're done."

Zhou Yang nodded. He looked at the open space again, where, in the direction where the sun was setting, the sealed Dragon's Spine Land was emitting a faint light. There was no falsehood in his eyes. For him, this time, a clean sweep meant survival.

Qin Shuang turned and led the Imperial Guards out, her gaze sweeping across one side of the alleyway. The remaining members of the Heavenly Principle Sect were silent, the grass and trees already covered with fine frost. Every step they took treaded on the remaining dust after the cleanup, as if they were walking to some kind of rhythm.

Zhou Yang stood there, stunned for a moment. He looked at his outstretched palm, the blood vessels shimmering beneath his skin. His veins were thicker than before, his life force surging.

He didn't speak, just waited quietly. Qin Shuang walked to his side and raised the back of her hand to wipe the dust from her forehead. She didn't complain, but instead looked at Zhou Yang.

"The Heavenly Principle Sect is gone," she said. "We're a little closer to Dragon's Spine."

"Dragon's Spine is waiting for us," Zhou Yang replied. He turned and looked at the remaining sky. The night was torn open, and the moon shone like a thin blade.

They walked out of the Guanwen Pavilion side by side, their footsteps quickening in sync with the sound of the wind. The banner of the Tianli people had been destroyed, leaving behind a patch of gray. The night wind blew into their clothes, carrying both cold and a new warmth.

That night, the streets were quiet. Only their footsteps were imprinted on the damp cobblestones.