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

Behind the door was a narrow, dark passage, the stone walls still bearing remnants of sand from the battle. Qin Shuang didn't stop, Hei Gang carrying his battle blade, the group walking one after the other. Zhou Yang stood at the cave entrance, glancing back at the young man from the Qingyan Guard. He was still leaning on his halberd, sitting slightly, sweat dripping down his face, soaking the white cloth beneath.

The young man stared at him, his eyes filled with resentment.

"One more time," he whispered, the halberd handle trembling.

Zhou Yang didn't move. There was no anger in his eyes, nor did he smile. He turned his head to look at Qin Shuang, reminding her to be careful of the shadows to the side. Qin Shuang nodded, her sleeves fluttering slightly, the arrowheads gleaming coldly between her fingers. Hei Gang slightly raised his knife, the back of the blade scraping against the stone surface, producing a soft scraping sound.

Zhou Yang, panting, seemed to slow down time. Suddenly, he moved. The movement wasn't a forceful burst; it was merely a swift, clean step as he turned. In a flash, he appeared before the young man.

The halberd was still in his hand, but when the young man raised his hand to retract it, his arm froze. He opened his mouth in shock, but the sound caught in his throat.

Zhou Yang reached out and gripped the halberd's hilt with his five fingers. It was a long halberd forged from fine iron, with a dark blue stone shard inlaid at the top; it was quite heavy. Zhou Yang's fingers did not flinch, remaining perfectly still. The Qingyan Guard's aura receded slightly, losing its rhythm for another attack.

He felt the coldness in his palm. The halberd carried the scent of iron and blood, and he had personally wiped the bloodstains from his battle robe.

Zhou Yang exerted a slight force, his five fingers encircling the halberd handle, then pushed the halberd outwards. The young man tried to use the force to turn around, swinging his arm to grip it firmly, but instead his arm stiffened. Zhou Yang's force didn't seep out gradually; it was as if he had forcefully dismantled the direction the young man was originally holding.

With a muffled thud, the halberd suddenly shattered. Cracks spread from the tip, the sound like railroad tracks cracking in flames. The young man instinctively pulled his hand back, but it was too late. The halberd broke in two before him, the tips falling to the ground and sending up a streak of hot sparks.

He staggered backward, his body thrown back by the recoil. That punch was no bluff.

Zhou Yang's fist emerged from the shadows, gathering its last bit of strength. The young man slid a hundred meters sideways, crashing into the stone wall behind him. The wall cracked behind him, sending stones flying. He crashed into the last screen, which shattered into pieces and collapsed, burying him halfway.

He lunged forward, his clothes torn, revealing a deep red line on his chest. Blood gushed from his mouth, and his voice was hoarse.

The air was still. The rest of the Qingyan Guard stood frozen in place, their eyes filled with shock. The cracks in the wall resembled slanted wounds, scattering dry dust.

Zhou Yang stood where the light had suddenly illuminated, his fist still bearing traces of blood mist. He didn't pursue, but casually took two steps back.

A faint, cold smile played on his lips: "Who wants to die?"

The sound was not loud, yet it was as clear as water dripping on stone.

The battlefield fell silent. Only the suppressed stench of blood remained in the air, and even the wind seemed to slow. The Qingyan Guards exchanged glances, then slowly retreated, even loosening their protective gear.

Zhou Yang remained motionless, yet his eyes held a sharp edge. His bones, instead of trembling from his earlier movement, seemed to gain a rhythmic strength. The young man from the Azure Rock Guard tilted his head back, trying to rise, only to find his legs bound as if by iron chains. Blood dripped from his chin onto the ground, smearing into the dust.

"Zhou Yang..." he called out, but couldn't utter a complete sentence.

Zhou Yang turned his head and glanced at Qin Shuang.

Qin Shuang's breathing was steady, her brows slightly furrowed. She raised her hand to run her hand through her long hair; a few stiff strands fluttered in the gentle breeze. Her gaze swept over the few still wary exiles behind Zhou Yang, finally settling on Black Steel, who was still clutching a broken knife.

Black Steel didn't speak. He simply raised his sword, the blade gleaming against the ground. The rust on the tip of the blade shimmered faintly. That light seemed like his silent response.

The Qingyan Guards retreated to the entrance of the passage, where light shone through. Behind them, the remaining shadows of the stone wall illuminated their sparse and disordered silhouettes. They dared not advance any further. Even the tips of their spears drooped, no longer radiating sharpness.

"Let's retreat," someone whispered.

Without waiting for orders, they withdrew first. The breathing sounds of the stones returned to the inside of the wall, instantly becoming chaotic. Only Zhou Yang remained standing.

A sliver of light shone through him. The light cast a long shadow on the ground. Zhou Yang didn't move, nor did he look back; he simply stared at the young man lying on the ground.

The man's eyes rolled back, revealing bloodshot veins.

Zhou Yang slowly withdrew his gaze, turned around, and walked into the cave.

Silence followed. They stepped inside, their footsteps silent. His voice rose behind them, weak yet clear.

"Move again," he said to the Qingyan Guards. His voice was like a cold wind sweeping across metal.

Qin Shuang glanced at him, her lips twitching slightly, as if suppressing some thought. She finally raised her hand, walked around his back, and landed beside him.

Black Steel didn't say anything, but simply pressed against his waist, his weapon clenched tightly.

Inside the cave, darkness continued to extend. The mottled bloodstains on the stone walls had been wiped away by the earlier movements, but the traces of the struggle were still evident.

Zhou Yang led them onward.

He didn't turn around. In the darkness, only he shone with a cold light.

Kneeling and enslaving

Light pierced the darkness.

Zhou Yang led his men out of the passage.

Before me lay a spacious stone hall. Stone pillars stood tall, like a silent forest.

The battle is nearing its end.

The exiles and the Qingyan Guards are still fighting. But the outcome is already clear.

The exiles' eyes were bloodshot. Like a pack of ravenous wolves, they pounced on their former hunter. Blacksteel's wounds enraged them. This fury burned away the last vestiges of fear.

The Qingyan Guard's formation broke down.

They were an elite force, accustomed to charging and crushing their opponents. They never imagined they would be overwhelmed by a group of peasants and prisoners.

Once the psychological dam breaks, the collapse becomes a flood.

A Qingyan Guard soldier was forced against a stone pillar. He threw down his short spear, knelt down, and covered his head with his hands.

Another exile rushed forward without hesitation, his bone knife plunging into the man's neck. Blood spurted out, warm, splashing onto the cold stone pillar.

"kill!"

"Kill them!"

Cheers and screams mingled together.

The stench of blood in the stone hall was so strong it was almost unbearable. Every breath carried a sweet, metallic scent of rust.

Zhou Yang stood at the entrance of the passage. He didn't move. His gaze passed over the chaotic crowd and landed on the young leader.

The young leader was still standing.

He leaned against a broken stone pillar, gasping for breath. A gash in his breastplate revealed the flesh beneath. His halberd was planted in the ground before him, supporting his body. He watched his men fall one by one, his eyes filled with rage and resentment.

He finally leaned on his halberd and slowly straightened up.

His gaze was fixed on Zhou Yang.

"you……"

His voice was hoarse, as if it had been ground by sand and gravel.

"Who exactly are you?"

He found it difficult to ask this question. Pride made him reluctant to speak. But the reality before him forced him to ask.

Zhou Yang didn't look at him.

He didn't even watch the massacre.

His gaze fell on Blacksteel. Blacksteel was using a broken stone spear to smash an enemy's helmet. Again and again. The movements were repetitive, mechanical, and carried a gratifying sense of venting.

Zhou Yang raised his hand.

He simply raised his hand slightly.

Black Steel stopped moving. He turned to look at Zhou Yang, his eyes still gleaming with a wild, red light. But he recognized the gesture. It was an order.

The noise in the entire stone hall seemed to pause for a moment because of this action.

Zhou Yang finally spoke.

His voice was soft and calm, as if he were talking about something trivial.

He did not tell Qingyanwei.

He said to Black Steel.

"Kill them all. Or make them surrender."

Simple and clear.

There are no extra words.

Blacksteel grinned, revealing teeth smeared with blood. He raised his arm and roared at the remaining exiles.

"The master has ordered! Those who surrender will not be killed!"

The roar echoed in the stone hall.

The exiles stopped what they were doing. They looked at the Qingyan Guards huddled on the ground, trembling, and a cruel smile appeared on their faces.

They stopped rushing to take action. They began to enjoy the feeling.

Enjoy the pleas of your prey, savor the taste of power.

A Qingyanwei soldier threw down his weapon. He knelt on the ground and kowtowed.

"I surrender! I surrender!"

The first person to kneel down is like the first domino to fall.

One after another, more people threw down their weapons. Armor and weapons clattered on the stone slabs. That sound, once their glory, was now their death knell.

They knelt on the ground, like a stalk of wheat blown down by the wind.

The young leader watched all of this.

His body began to tremble. Not from fear, but from anger. Utter anger.

His soldiers, his proud Qingyan Guards. Those warriors who once swore to defend their honor with their lives, are now like a flock of lambs to the slaughter.

He wanted to roar, to pull out his halberd, and to charge forward to die in battle.

But he saw the look in Zhou Yang's eyes.

What kind of eyes were those?

Calm, indifferent, as if watching a play that had nothing to do with him. There was no murderous intent, no anger, nothing in his eyes. It was this "absence" that chilled him to the bone more than any murderous intent.

He knew that charging forward would only mean certain death.

A meaningless death.

The halberd in his hand grew heavier and heavier.

Finally, he let go.

The halberd fell to one side with a heavy thud.

He slowly knelt on one knee.

Head bowed. The once proud neck was bent into a humiliating arc.

"We...are willing to surrender!"

The words were forced out through clenched teeth. Every word was stained with blood.

The stone hall fell silent.

All that remained were heavy breathing and the sound of blood dripping.

Zhou Yang moved.

He strode toward the young leader. His steps were slow, his boots making a soft "patter" sound as they sank into the blood.

Step by step.

It felt like stepping on everyone's hearts.

Qin Shuang stood there, watching his retreating figure. Her fingers tapped lightly on her arm. A slight smile seemed to appear at the corner of her lips.

Blacksteel and the exiles automatically parted to make way. They looked at Zhou Yang with fanatical eyes, as if he were their god.

Zhou Yang walked up to the young leader.

stop.

The young leader could feel a pair of boots stop in front of him. He could even smell a faint scent of blood emanating from the boots.

Then, one foot was lifted up.

It landed on his helmet, neither too lightly nor too heavily.

"Click."

A crisp sound.

The helmet dented. A tremendous force pressed through the metal onto his head. His forehead pressed tightly against the cold stone slab.

humiliation.

An unprecedented humiliation overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

His muscles were tense, and his fingernails made a screeching sound as they scratched the stone slab.

"drop?"

Zhou Yang's voice came from above.

Still nothing special.

"I'm not interested."

He increased the pressure on his foot.

"Go to hell or die."

"Or become a slave."

These two words, like two red-hot branding irons, were burned into the mind of the young leader.

He jerked his head up, but Zhou Yang's foot pinned it down, preventing him from lifting it more than a little. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared intently at Zhou Yang.

Death, or slavery.

Is this a choice?

The honor of Qingyan Guard and his pride as its leader were shattered at this moment.

He thought about death.

But then he thought of his people, of the future of the Qingyan tribe. He couldn't die. If he died, it would all be over.

Alive.

As long as you're alive, there's hope.

Even if it means living like a dog.

The last shred of pride that sustained him vanished in an instant.

His eyes, which had been filled with anger and resentment, became utterly calm. A deathly calm.

He lowered his head, completely giving up resistance.

"slave……"

He spoke, his voice hoarse and dry.

"Qingyan...pays respects to Master!"

Zhou Yang's feet did not loosen.

He simply looked down at the person at his feet. He looked at this former powerful figure, now a slave.

Inside the stone hall, the Qingyan Guard soldiers knelt in surrender. They looked at their leader, having chosen humiliation. Their faces were deathly still.

Zhou Yang then slowly lifted his foot.

He turned around and looked at Black Steel.

"From today onwards, they are your subordinates."

"Keep them in check."

Black Steel grinned, revealing his gleaming white teeth. He walked up to the young leader, grabbed his hair, and lifted his face up.

"Did you hear that, you bastard?"

The young leader did not resist. He allowed Black Steel to do as he pleased, his eyes vacant.

Zhou Yang stopped looking at them.

He turned and walked towards Qin Shuang.

"It's solved," he told her.

"Hmm." Qin Shuang nodded. "A good harvest."

Her gaze swept over the kneeling Qingyan Guards, as if they were a group of precious spoils. "More than a hundred elite warriors, far more useful than those exiles."

"One person who knows how to use it is enough," Zhou Yang said.

He walked to one side of the stone hall, where there were steps leading to the upper level.

"Let's go, let's see what other treasures are up there."

Qin Shuang followed.

Kurogane waved to the person behind him.

"Keep up!"

The exiles shoved the newly arrived slaves toward the steps. The men of Qingyan Guard silently rose and followed behind the procession. Their steps were heavy, devoid of any spirit.

The young leader walked at the back. He glanced back at the stone hall. The ground was littered with the corpses of his comrades. Blood flowed like a small river.

He turned back, his eyes now devoid of any emotion.

From then on, there was no more Qingyan Guard.

There was only a group of servants.

And his name is no longer that of a leader.

It's just "Qingyan".

The name of a slave.

Temple Secrets

The air in the stone hall carried the stench of blood and the coldness of earth.

The torch, stuck in an iron ring in the wall, flickered with a dim, yellowish light. In the light, shadows stretched long and swayed incessantly. Corpses lay on the ground, blood seeping into the cracks of the stone slabs, congealing into dark red streaks.

Zhou Yang found a relatively clean rock and sat down.

He wiped his hands, and there seemed to be bloodstains between his fingers. He didn't care, he just looked at the kneeling figure in front of him.

That young leader.

He knelt upright, his back straight, like the last unyielding bone. But his head was lowered, his forehead almost touching the ground. The halberd lay to one side, its broken tip reflecting the firelight, flashing a cold glint.

From leader to slave, it only took the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

"name."

Zhou Yang spoke, his voice calm and even, as if asking about the weather today.

The young man stiffened. He didn't answer immediately. His breathing became heavy, as if he was suppressing something.

Kurogane took a step forward, stepping into a puddle of blood with a soft "plop." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

"Yanfeng".

The young man finally uttered two words. His voice was hoarse, as if his throat was full of sand.

"Yan Feng." Zhou Yang repeated, as if savoring the name, "The Yan of the Yan family, the Feng of sharpness?"

"Yes."

"The Yan family." Zhou Yang tapped his fingertips lightly on the stone. "The Yan family, one of the three major families of Beiling?"

Yan Feng's body jolted again. He abruptly raised his head, his eyes filled with shock. How could an outsider know this secret, the Yan family's status in Beiling?

Zhou Yang looked at him, his face still showing that lazy expression. He even smiled, but there was no warmth in that smile.

"You are the private soldiers of the Yan family. They're called the Qingyan Guards. Isn't that right?"

Yan Feng's eyes changed completely. Shock, then bewilderment, and finally, deathly silence. He knew he had nothing left to hide. The person before him was not a brute, not a bully. He was a devil.

"Yes." He lowered his head again, his voice filled with utter exhaustion.

"Why are you here?" Zhou Yang continued to ask. His questions were direct and efficient, giving the other party no chance to think or fabricate lies.

"Guardian Temple." Yan Feng's answer became fluent, as if reciting a dogma etched into his bones. "The Yan family's ancestral precept is to guard this temple for generations. We are the ones on duty this time. The family's higher-ups are not inside the temple."

His words were concise, yet contained the most crucial information. The absence of higher-ups meant that the defenses here consisted solely of their private soldiers. And now, those private soldiers were gone.

Zhou Yang nodded. This was exactly what he wanted: a hunting ground without any worries.

"What's inside the hall?"

Yan Feng fell silent. This question touched on the core of his being. The oath of protection made him instinctively want to resist.

The black steel knife was already halfway drawn. The blade reflected the firelight, shining blindingly bright.

"There are... there are things we don't know," Yan Feng's voice trembled slightly, "and there are things we do know."

He seemed to have made up his mind. Ancestral precepts are for the living to follow. But he was already a dead man.

He struggled to pull something from his pocket. It was something wrapped in an oilcloth. He untied it with trembling hands and handed it forward.

"This is a map of the temple."

Zhou Yang reached out, and Hei Gang immediately stepped forward, took the map, and handed it to Zhou Yang.

The map was made of some kind of animal hide, very tough, with intricate lines drawn on it using a deep red dye. It smelled strange, like blood mixed with some kind of herb.

Zhou Yang unfolded the map.

Qin Shuang also came over. Her gaze fell on the map, and her brows furrowed slightly.

The map was drawn in great detail. From the overall outline of the temple to the smallest, most secluded side streets, everything was clearly marked. Several areas were circled in red ink.

"What are these circled areas?" Zhou Yang asked.

"Danger zones," Yan Feng replied quickly. "Our people went in and never came out. There are also some... places that might contain treasure. Our ancestors explored them, but the results were meager."

There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. He himself was just an executor, and these secrets were just hearsay.

Zhou Yang's gaze swept across the map. His finger traced the markings of the danger zones. Strange symbols, like distorted ghost faces, were drawn on them.

"Where is the core? Where is the most central part of the temple?"

A hint of fear appeared on Yan Feng's face.

"The core... has been blocked."

"blockade?"

"Yes, the ultimate restriction." Yan Feng's voice was extremely low, as if the name itself possessed some kind of magic. "Even we cannot get close. Any life that attempts to approach will be instantly wiped out. This is the oldest warning of the Yan family."

Zhou Yang raised an eyebrow. Even the Yan family, who had guarded this place for generations, couldn't get close; the power of the restriction was unimaginable.

Just as he was about to ask another question, Qin Shuang suddenly reached out her hand.

Her fingertips, white and slender, gently touched a spot on the map.

It was a place not marked with a red circle, nor with any strange symbols. It was simply a long corridor leading to the very center of the map, the area shrouded in the "Final Restriction." But the markings on this corridor were different from those elsewhere.

There is a small spiral mark drawn on it.

"This is the 'Origin Corridor'," Qin Shuang said, her voice clear and cold, yet certain.

Yan Feng's body trembled violently. He abruptly looked up at Qin Shuang, his face filled with even greater shock than when he had learned Zhou Yang's identity. An outsider who not only knew the Yan family, but even knew the name "Origin Corridor," a name only recorded in the family's secret records!

“Who…who are you?”

Qin Shuang ignored him and just looked at Zhou Yang.

Zhou Yang's gaze also focused on the spiral mark. He could sense that Qin Shuang's tone was somewhat different when she said the word.

"The Origin Corridor?" he repeated.

"Yes." Yan Feng's voice carried a hint of reverence. "The only way to the core of the temple. It is also... the place where the power of rules is most concentrated."

"The power of rules?" Zhou Yang became interested. This could no longer be explained by martial arts alone.

"I don't know either." Yan Feng shook his head, his face full of confusion. "The descriptions from our ancestors were very vague. They said that everything in that corridor was chaotic. Sometimes, a single step could feel like the end of the world. Sometimes, stones would flow like water. Power, space, and even time had no meaning there. Only those with the blood of the Yan family flowing through their veins could barely pass through without being torn apart by those rules."

He paused, then added, "It was barely enough. Many of our predecessors died inside."

Dead silence.

The stone hall was deathly silent.

The exiles and the newly surrendered slaves huddled in a corner, barely daring to breathe. They couldn't understand the language, but they could feel the suffocating terror from ancient times.

Zhou Yang's fingers tapped lightly on the map, the "tap, tap" sound particularly clear in the empty hall.

The power of rules. The ultimate restriction. The Primal Corridor.

These words swirled in his mind. This temple was far more complex and dangerous than he had imagined. But also... far more valuable.

He thought of his system. Burning through lifespan, deducing everything. What did this "power of rules" mean to the system?

He looked at Yan Feng kneeling on the ground.

This man has lost all dignity and hope. But what's in his mind is currently the most valuable intelligence.

Zhou Yang put away the map and stood up.

He walked up to Yan Feng and squatted down.

Yan Feng instinctively shrank back, avoiding his gaze.

Zhou Yang reached out, pinched his chin, and forced him to raise his head.

Yan Feng's eyes were filled with despair.

"You're very useful," Zhou Yang said softly.

Yan Feng's pupils contracted sharply. He hadn't expected to hear those words. He thought he was doomed.

"So, I won't kill you for now."

Zhou Yang released his grip, stood up, and dusted his hands off. He tossed aside Yan Feng's last hope as if discarding a piece of trash, then tossed him an invisible lifeline.

This all-encompassing attitude completely numbed Yan Feng.

"Black Steel," Zhou Yang shouted.

"exist."

"Keep an eye on him. Also, send people to explore the treasure locations on the map. Be careful, it's okay if a few people die, just don't let the whole team get wiped out."

"clear!"

Black Steel waved his hand, and several exiles immediately stepped forward and dragged Rock Peak to a corner like a dead dog.

Zhou Yang stopped looking at him. He turned around and walked with Qin Shuang towards the relatively safe location marked on the map.

"How did you know about this Origin Corridor?" Zhou Yang asked in a low voice.

"My family's collection of books contains similar records," Qin Shuang said without hiding anything, "descriptions about some ancient ruins. 'Origin' refers to the most fundamental laws that constitute the world. Being able to enter there might... allow us to come into contact with the source of power."

A complex light flickered in her eyes. It was both longing and wariness.

Zhou Yang smiled.

"The source of power..."

He looked at the animal hide map in his hand, which emitted a strange smell, as if he had already seen clues to a path to greater power.

"interesting."

The torchlight cast their long, long shadows on the ancient stone wall. Something seemed to be silently waiting for them in the darkness ahead.

Reorganize and launch a new campaign

The morning light streamed in.

Zhou Yang stood at the cave entrance, behind him a dense mass of people. The Qingyan Guard prisoners hung their heads, obediently lined up in a row. Last night's resistance had exhausted their fighting spirit; now they were nothing more than lambs to the slaughter.

"Strip them of their equipment," Zhou Yang ordered.

Black Steel nodded and waved for his men to step forward. The Qingyan Guards wore fine leather armor, and their weapons were all top-quality. These fine items were being wasted on them.

The prisoners were shoved and shoved as their equipment was stripped off. Some frowned, some gritted their teeth, but no one dared to move.

Zhou Yang observed all of this. He needed this equipment.

"Black Steel".

"Sir, I'm here."

"Call your brothers over."

Black Steel turned around and whistled. Footsteps sounded in the distance, and a dozen burly men ran over. They were Black Steel's trusted men, who had followed him through thick and thin.

"Distribute these," Zhou Yang said, pointing to the pile of leather armor and weapons on the ground. "Pick out the good ones to wear."

The eyes of Blacksteel's elite soldiers lit up. They had suffered too much following Blacksteel, and now they could finally get some decent equipment.

A group of people rushed forward, scrambling and jostling for it.

Zhou Yang didn't stop them. He'd seen this kind of thing many times before. There were only so many resources; whoever got them first got them. As long as no one died, he couldn't be bothered to interfere.

Qin Shuang stood to one side, arms crossed. Her gaze swept across the group of prisoners, finally settling on the young man named "Qingyan".

That former leader.

Now he is just a slave.

"What do you plan to do with them?" Qin Shuang asked.

"Lead the way," Zhou Yang said. "Only they know where the Origin Corridor is."

Qin Shuang frowned: "They won't tell."

"They will talk," Zhou Yang smiled. "As long as they believe that following me is a better option than following their former masters."

"What do you have to offer to convince them?"

"Let the facts prove it."

Zhou Yang walked towards the group of prisoners. Qingyan raised his head, his eyes filled with hatred.

"Do you want to live?" Zhou Yang asked.

Qingyan remained silent.

"Follow me," Zhou Yang said. "I won't kill you, and I'll even give you a good meal. Once we reach the Origin Corridor, it's up to you whether you stay or leave."

Qingyan stared at him.

"But," Zhou Yang's tone changed, "if you dare to run or resist now, you'll be dead."

He said it very softly, as if he were talking about the weather.

Qingyan remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he nodded.

Zhou Yang turned around and looked at Hei Gang.

"Mixed composition".

"What does sir mean?"

"Yanfeng's men and your men are mixed up together."

Black Steel paused for a moment, then understood. This meant mutual surveillance. Rock Peak had just surrendered, and his loyalty was unknown. By scattering them and mixing them into the old ranks, if anyone wanted to defect, the other group would immediately discover it.

"Understood." Kurogane nodded.

He beckoned his brothers over and ordered someone to escort Yan Feng's group of prisoners. Soon, the two groups were forcibly separated and regrouped.

Zhou Yang stood on high ground, looking down at the newly formed team.

The Qingyan Guard prisoners were dressed in their original clothes, but their weapons had been confiscated. They were scattered among the Black Steel elites, surrounded by people they dared not trust.

This arrangement makes everyone uncomfortable.

But that's exactly what Zhou Yang wanted.

If you're uncomfortable, you won't want to cause trouble.

"Black Steel," Zhou Yang called out to him.

"Sir, is there anything else you need to say?"

"You take care of them."

Kurogane froze, "Me?"

"Of all the people willing to follow me, you're the one I know best," Zhou Yang said. "You'll be the general manager. Report directly to me if anything comes up."

Black Steel's eyes lit up.

He knew what the position meant.

"Yes!" He knelt on one knee, his voice firm and resolute.

Zhou Yang helped him up.

"Go ahead and get busy. Get the team organized; we'll set off at dusk."

Black Steel turned and left, his steps more powerful than before.

Zhou Yang let out a breath. He turned around, and Qin Shuang was standing not far away, watching him.

"Have you thought it through regarding the Origin Corridor?" Qin Shuang asked.

"I've made up my mind."

"According to the information I found, that's the core of the ancient ruins." Qin Shuang's expression turned serious. "'Origin' refers to the most fundamental laws that constitute the world. Being able to enter there might... allow us to access the source of power."

Her eyes gleamed with both longing and wariness.

Zhou Yang smiled.

"The source of power."

He looked at the animal hide map in his hand, which emitted a strange smell, as if he had already seen clues to a path to greater power.

"interesting."

Qin Shuang walked to his side.

"Do you really believe that what you want will be there?"

"I believe you," Zhou Yang said. "If you didn't believe me, why bother making this trip?"

He put away the map and turned his gaze to the darkness in the distance.

"Furthermore, I have a feeling that the Origin Corridor is the place with the highest lifespan value."

Qin Shuang nodded.

"Very likely. That's where the fragments of the 'Heart of the World' are gathered."

Zhou Yang turned his head and looked at her.

"The Heart of the World?"

"Legend has it that these are fragments of the creator god's weapon," Qin Shuang said. "Each piece contains immense energy. If we could collect them all..."

She didn't finish speaking.

But Zhou Yang understood.

If he could collect all those fragments, perhaps he could break free from the constraints of lifespan.

No longer is it necessary to burn one's life to gain power.

This news excited him more than any magic pill.

"Tell the brothers," Zhou Yang raised his voice, "eat and drink your fill tonight, and set off at dawn tomorrow."

The person next to him responded and quickly went to relay the order.

Qin Shuang looked at Zhou Yang's profile.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about it," Zhou Yang said. "If the Origin Corridor really has that many lifespans, I'll give myself an extra hundred years."

Qin Shuang rolled her eyes at him.

All you ever think about is adding more money.

"That's called being prepared for a rainy day."

In the distance, Black Steel was directing his troops. He was wearing the leather armor of the Green Rock Guard, along with a newly captured longsword, and looked much more energetic than before.

Yan Feng's group was scattered and inserted into the ranks; some looked unfriendly, while others had resigned themselves to their fate. Only Qing Yan remained silently standing at the end of the line, like a statue.

Zhou Yang looked for a while, and only after confirming that there was nothing unusual did he look away.

"It's getting late," he said. "You should go and get some rest."

"And you?"

"Let me take another look at the map."

Qin Shuang didn't say much. She knew Zhou Yang's temperament. Once he made up his mind, no one could change it.

She turned and walked toward the makeshift tent.

Zhou Yang stood still, holding the rolled-up animal skin in his hand.

On the map, the location of the Origin Corridor is marked with a striking red dot. Around that red dot are intricate patterns, resembling some kind of array.

"The Origin Corridor"

Zhou Yang repeated the name in a low voice.

"Get it there first."

He put away the map and strode towards his tent.

The light of dusk stretched his shadow long, very long.

---

The team set off promptly at 5:00 AM on the second day.

Black Steel rode at the head of the procession, followed by a mixed group. Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang sat in the carriage, a map spread out on their laps.

"How much further?" Qin Shuang asked.

"A three-day journey."

Zhou Yang pointed to a line on the map.

"Be careful on the road. There are traps marked here."

Qin Shuang nodded.

The carriage curtain was lifted, and a dark-skinned face peered in.

"Sir, everything is ready."

"Set off."

Zhou Yang gave the order.

The convoy started and slowly drove into the dense forest.

The journey will not be peaceful.

But he was already prepared.

The Enchanted Corridor

three days later.

The group stopped in front of a cliff.

The cliff face was as if cleaved by a giant axe, plunging vertically into an unfathomable abyss. Strange vines grew all over the cliff face, their dark green leaves swaying gently in the wind.

Black Steel walked to the edge of the cliff and peered down.

"Sir, this is the place."

Zhou Yang lifted the carriage curtain and jumped out.

Qin Shuang followed closely behind. She looked up at the opposite side of the cliff, her brows furrowing slightly.

Opposite was another sheer cliff, the two cliffs separated by no more than ten feet. There was no bridge in between, only emptiness.

"The map says the entrance is at the bottom of the cliff?" Qin Shuang asked.

"No." Zhou Yang shook his head, his gaze fixed on the center of the cliff face.

There was a flat stone platform, about two zhang square. A strange rune was carved on the platform, emitting a faint blue light.

The air around the rune distorted slightly.

"The entrance is right there."

After Zhou Yang finished speaking, he walked to the edge of the cliff. He took a deep breath and jumped.

"Zhou Yang!" Qin Shuang exclaimed in surprise.

But Zhou Yang's figure did not fall. He paused in mid-air, as if stepping on invisible steps. Then he walked step by step towards the cliff face, finally standing steadily on the stone platform.

He turned around and waved to Qin Shuang.

"Come on, it's safe."

Qin Shuang breathed a sigh of relief and jumped over as well. She also found a foothold in mid-air and stood next to Zhou Yang in a few steps.

Black Steel immediately directed his troops to follow.

One by one, the exiles and slaves jumped across. Some were afraid, some hesitated, but urged on by the Qingyan Guards, everyone safely reached the opposite stone platform.

"Everyone, stand in the middle of the stone platform," Zhou Yang said.

Once everyone had gathered on the stone platform, Zhou Yang reached out and placed his hand on the blue light rune.

The runes shone brightly, instantly covering the entire stone platform.

Qin Shuang felt a slight dizziness. The surrounding scenery began to distort; the cliffs, vines, and sky all became blurry. It was like looking at a reflection in water, which would scatter with the slightest sway.

Black Steel gripped his weapon tightly, watching the changes around him warily.

After about ten breaths, the light gradually dimmed.

When her vision cleared again, Qin Shuang discovered that the stone platform was gone.

They were standing in a narrow passageway.

The passage seemed endless, shrouded in mist both in front and behind. The walls on either side were not made of brick or stone, but rather flowing curtains of light. Colorful rays of light danced within them, as if they were alive.

"This is the Origin Corridor..." Qin Shuang said softly, her eyes reflecting the shimmering walls.

"Everyone keep up, don't fall behind!" Kurogane shouted to those behind him, his voice echoing strangely in the passageway.

The line began to move slowly forward.

Zhou Yang walked at the front. He noticed that the ground beneath his feet was not solid, but rather composed of translucent energy, revealing a bottomless darkness below.

After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Qin Shuang suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?" Zhou Yang asked, turning around.

"Don't you think...something's strange?" Qin Shuang looked puzzled. "We've walked for so long, but it feels like we're still in the same place."

Zhou Yang looked ahead. The passage indeed had no end, and the scenery was always the same: walls shimmering with light, a semi-transparent floor, and a hazy distance ahead.

But he had no concept of time here. Perhaps he walked for a quarter of an hour, perhaps for an hour. He couldn't feel the passage of time.

Black Steel also discovered the problem.

"Sir, something's not right." He walked over to Zhou Yang and whispered, "My men say the line behind us has overlapped with the line in front."

Zhou Yang glanced back.

The long queue did become chaotic. People in the back of the queue bumped into those in front, but everyone said they were simply following the people in front of them.

"Space is distorted." Qin Shuang quickly realized, "The space in this corridor is unstable; distance and direction have lost their meaning."

Just then, a strange sound rang out.

It was very soft, like many people whispering at the same time in the distance. The voices were erratic, sometimes near, sometimes far, and the specific content was unclear, yet it was inexplicably irritating.

"What's that sound?" Kurogane asked, frowning and looking around warily.

No one answered.

Because the sound seemed to fill the entire passageway. It came from all directions, drilled into the ears, and echoed in the mind.

Zhou Yang listened carefully. The voice seemed to be saying something, but he couldn't understand the language. Nor was it any language he knew.

Suddenly, someone in the group screamed.

An exile covered his ears, his body trembling violently. His eyes were wide open and bloodshot.

"Shut up! All of you shut up!" he roared madly, but it was unclear who he was cursing.

His companion tried to calm him down, but was punched to the ground.

The exile tackled his companion, gripping his neck tightly with both hands. His face contorted in pain and rage, and he kept repeating unintelligible words.

"Stop!" Kurogane roared and rushed over to pull him away.

But more and more people are starting to experience symptoms.

Another exile suddenly swung his knife at someone nearby. A look of pleasure flashed in his eyes as blood splattered. But then it turned to extreme pain, as if the knife were cutting his own flesh.

Chaos spread rapidly.

The newly arrived slaves were particularly vulnerable. Most of them lacked cultivation and had fragile mental defenses. Amidst the eerie whispers, they began to go berserk.

Some people attacked those around them, some banged their heads against the wall, and some knelt on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

The men of Qingyan Guard were somewhat better off, but their faces had also turned pale. They gripped their weapons tightly, huddled together back to back, but the fear in their eyes grew stronger.

"Stop right there! Don't move!" Black Steel shouted, but his voice was drowned out by a cacophony of whispers and shouts.

Qin Shuang also drew her knife. A flicker of pain crossed her eyes, clearly affected by the sound.

"It's a psychological attack," she said through gritted teeth. "Don't listen, don't think! Guard your mind!"

Her voice, amplified by her inner strength, reached everyone's ears. But its effect was limited; most people had already lost their minds.

Only Zhou Yang stood there motionless.

The whispers were indeed there, but to him they were like the sound of the wind in the distance. Strange, but not enough to disturb his peace of mind.

He looked at the chaotic crowd with a calm expression.

A crazed exile charged at him, a blood-stained dagger in his hand. His eyes were completely bloodshot, and saliva was dripping from his mouth.

Zhou Yang did not move.

He only casually raised his hand and pushed when the dagger was only half an inch away from his neck.

The crazed exile was sent flying backward, crashing into the energy wall. The wall rippled like water, bouncing him back. He landed on the ground, twitched a few times, and then lay still.

"Strange," Zhou Yang thought to himself.

The whispers seemed to possess a seductive power, capable of stirring up the deepest fears and desires within. One exile cried out for his mother, while another frantically shouted for money.

But Zhou Yang heard nothing.

Those voices couldn't reach his heart.

"This kind of psychological attack..." Qin Shuang endured her headache and walked to Zhou Yang's side. "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing," Zhou Yang replied simply.

"How is that possible..." Qin Shuang's eyes showed surprise.

Even she felt uneasy about the whispers, yet Zhou Yang, an ordinary person without any cultivation, showed no reaction at all.

Zhou Yang didn't explain. He himself didn't understand why.

Perhaps it's because he's burned through too much of his lifespan, and his spirit has become extraordinary on some level. Or perhaps it's because his heart, forged by money, is too hard to tolerate anything else.

"Black Steel!" Qin Shuang shouted, "Gather everyone who's still conscious!"

Blacksteel, having knocked down several crazed exiles, heard the order. He immediately gathered the Green Rock Guards and formed a defensive circle.

Few exiles and slaves remained conscious; fewer than twenty. They huddled trembling in the circle, their faces etched with fear.

Amid the chaos, Qingyan also appeared.

He was unaffected by the psychological attack and simply watched it all silently. Then he walked behind Zhou Yang and stood still like a statue.

Zhou Yang glanced at him but didn't say anything.

"These sounds..." Qin Shuang leaned against the wall, catching her breath, "are rhythmic."

"What pattern?" Zhou Yang asked.

"It's like a language. Although I can't understand it, the intonation is varied. It's like it's conveying some kind of message."

Zhou Yang focused his attention on listening.

Indeed, there was a faint rhythm within those chaotic whispers, like some ancient incantation, repeating and intensifying.

"It might be a protective mechanism for this space," Zhou Yang speculated. "Anyone attempting to break in will be driven insane or killed by a mental attack."

"Then what do we do?" Qin Shuang wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her face was a little pale, and she was obviously forcing herself to stay upright.

Zhou Yang looked around.

Most of them had already fallen. Some went mad and killed each other, while others knelt on the ground unconscious. Only a dozen or so remained alive.

"Keep moving forward," Zhou Yang said.

"But..."

"If there's no road, then fight your way through."

After Zhou Yang finished speaking, he strode into the depths of the passage. His steps were calm and firm, as if everything around him was irrelevant.

Qin Shuang hesitated for a moment, then followed.

Black Steel called to the survivors to follow.

The team dwindled to twenty people. Everyone's face was filled with fear and exhaustion, but they had no choice but to grit their teeth and continue forward.

The eerie sound continued, but it seemed to weaken as they went deeper.

"The sound has become quieter," Kurogane said with delight.

"It's not that we've shrunk," Zhou Yang said without turning his head. "It's that we've gotten used to it."

Or perhaps their minds have become numb from the repeated shocks. Just like people living in noisy environments gradually ignore the noise.

Qin Shuang gave a wry smile.

This isn't about becoming stronger; it's clearly about mental damage.

"There's light ahead," Qingyan suddenly said.

His voice was a little hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.

Everyone looked up.

At the end of the passage, a light did indeed appear. It wasn't the light from the entrance, but a soft white glow.

"Is that the exit?" an exile asked, trembling.

"Perhaps," Zhou Yang replied. "Perhaps not."

He quickened his pace.

The closer they got to the light, the weaker the whispers became. Finally, they almost disappeared completely. An eerie silence descended; only the sounds of footsteps and breathing could be heard.

Standing before the light, Zhou Yang stopped in his tracks.

The light, like a curtain, hung down in the middle of the passage. Through the light, one could see the scene on the other side: a circular stone chamber.

"Let's go in and take a look," Zhou Yang said.

He was the first to step into the light.

The moment he passed through the light, Zhou Yang felt a wave of warmth. His physical and mental exhaustion vanished, and his mind became exceptionally clear.

The stone chamber was small, no more than ten zhang in diameter. In the center stood a stone platform, on which sat an ancient book.

The strangest thing is the walls of the stone chamber.

The walls were covered with strange patterns. Each pattern seemed to flow slowly, as if it were alive. Upon closer inspection, they formed a complex and intricate design.

Qin Shuang and the others also came in, all showing expressions of surprise.

"Where...is this place?" Kurogane murmured.

"The library." Zhou Yang walked to the stone platform and looked at the cover of the book.

There were four ancient characters on the cover, which he didn't recognize.

"Zhou Yang, look at the patterns on the wall," Qin Shuang pointed to the wall. "These... seem to be diagrams of some kind of martial arts technique."

Zhou Yang examined it carefully.

Indeed, the wall was carved with many patterns of tiny figures in various poses. The figures were male and female, young and old, and each was making different gestures. Some were meditating, some were practicing swordsmanship, and others were practicing some kind of palm technique.

Although these patterns are chaotic, they subtly form a cohesive whole, as if showcasing some all-encompassing martial arts system.

"This place might hold some kind of historical record," Qin Shuang said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "It could be a legendary sacred site of martial arts!"

Zhou Yang didn't speak, he just stared at the book.

He could feel something in the book calling to him. Not a spiritual call, but a more fundamental attraction.

Just as a hungry person sees food, and a thirsty person sees water.

His fingers involuntarily reached for the book.

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the book cover, Zhou Yang suddenly stopped.

He recalled the characteristics of this space.

Mental attacks, spatial distortions, whispers... everything here is abnormal. This book that suddenly appeared before me is probably no good either.

But that attraction grew stronger and stronger.

Zhou Yang could even hear his own heartbeat quickening. His blood was boiling, as if urging him to grab the book.

He gritted his teeth and pulled his hand back.

"What's wrong?" Qin Shuang noticed his unusual behavior.

"There's something wrong with this book," Zhou Yang said in a deep voice.

"What do you mean?"

"It's attracting me. No, it's compelling me to take it."

Zhou Yang felt a chill run down his spine. If he hadn't realized what was happening in time, he probably would have fallen into their trap.

Suddenly, the stone chamber began to tremble slightly.

The patterns on the wall began to blur, like paintings soaked in water. The cover of the book on the stone platform gradually emitted an eerie red light.

Oh no, we've been discovered.

Zhou Yang's heart sank.

This stone chamber might also be a trap, and he almost stepped into it.

"Go!" he roared, turning to rush towards the light.

But it was too late.

"Buzz—"

A deep, resonant sound echoed through the stone chamber.

The patterns on the wall suddenly came to life. The little figures stepped down from the wall and became real.

One by one, humanoid figures made of light appeared in the stone chamber. They had no facial features and their appearances were indistinct, but each of them exuded a powerful aura.

Zhou Yang counted them; there were twelve in total.

The twelve beings of light surrounded them, forming a perfect encirclement.

The light at the exit is slowly fading and will soon be completely shut off.

"Black Steel!" Zhou Yang shouted, "Protect Qin Shuang!"

Black Steel immediately stepped forward, shielding Qin Shuang behind him. The remaining Qingyan Guards also assumed fighting stances, but their faces were filled with despair.

The twelve luminous figures slowly approached.

They emanated different martial arts fluctuations. Sword energy, palm wind, fist force... various powerful martial intents intertwined, forming an invisible pressure.

"Be careful, they bear the remnants of powerful cultivation techniques," Qin Shuang said urgently. "They are very likely projections of the martial arts of ancient powerhouses!"

Zhou Yang clenched his fist.

He realized that these luminous figures were not ordinary enemies. Each one represented a peerless martial art.

Now is not the time to hesitate.

Zhou Yang closed his eyes slightly and silently recited in his mind.

"Burning life, one month."

A familiar feeling of weakness washed over him, but even more so, a surge of power coursed through him. Deep within his mind, various martial arts techniques began to flash.

When Zhou Yang opened his eyes again, a sharp glint flashed in them.

Of the twelve luminous figures, the one wielding the longsword was the first to attack.

A dazzling sword light sliced ​​through the air, aiming straight for Zhou Yang's throat. The sword's momentum was as fast as lightning, carrying a sharp killing intent.

Zhou Yang did not dodge.

He raised his right hand, his index and middle fingers together, and casually pointed forward.

"bite."

A soft sound.

The sword's edge shattered at his fingertips, turning into specks of light that dissipated.

The sword-wielding figure seemed to pause for a moment, then swung his sword again.

This time, its sword techniques were even more complex. Sword light rained down, enveloping Zhou Yang's entire body.

Zhou Yang remained standing in the same spot, his finger pointing repeatedly.

"Ding. Ding. Ding."

Each soft sound was accompanied by the dissipation of a sword's edge. Zhou Yang's movements appeared slow, yet he always managed to precisely strike the weaknesses in the sword techniques.

In just three breaths, the sword-wielding figure had exhausted its sword techniques. It floated in the air, seemingly bewildered.

The other eleven light beings also stopped in their tracks.

Zhou Yang withdrew his finger and said calmly:

"This sword technique is not bad, but it's not perfect yet. Your weak point is three inches to your left; if your opponent is strong enough, you will die on the third move."

Zhou Yang suddenly raised his left hand.

"For example, like this."

His left index finger drew a graceful arc in the air, and a dazzling sword light appeared out of thin air, pointing directly at the light man's left hand.

"laugh."

The sword light pierced through the man's left hand, but it did not bleed. Black smoke billowed from the wound, and the light was rapidly dissipating.

The luminous figure wielding the sword trembled violently, then shattered with a bang, turning into countless specks of light.

A being of light appeared!

This scene stunned everyone.

Hei Gang's eyes widened, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg. Qin Shuang also looked on incredulously.

Zhou Yang ignored their reactions.

He turned to the remaining eleven light beings.

"Who remembers that I made a mistake once?"

He just said "three inches from the left hand," but it's actually located above the right hand. Of course, this is likely a deliberate mistake to mislead these people.

A smile appeared on Zhou Yang's lips.

"It seems you remember it very well."