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

Chapter 704 Using Blood as a Pen (Foreshadowing - Lifespan Trading Closed Loop - Foreshadowing)

Zhou Yang entered the tent.

There was a burnt smell in the air, mixed with an earthy odor.

He kicked aside the broken spear at his feet and walked straight to the table covered with sheepskin.

This command tent, which originally belonged to the one-eyed veteran, now looks somewhat empty.

Several scrolls of military orders that hadn't been burned yet lay scattered on the ground, stained with mud.

Zhou Yang ignored those things.

He unfastened the command sword from his waist and slammed it onto the table with a "snap".

The scabbard is made of black sharkskin, inlaid with copper ornaments, and is very finely crafted.

But what's most captivating about this knife right now isn't the scabbard, but the trickle of blood seeping from the hilt.

The blood hadn't dried yet.

Dark red, thick like freshly cooked paste, it slowly dripped down the grooves of the knife handle.

Zhou Yang pulled out a chair and sat down.

The chair creaked and groaned.

He didn't care, and stretched out a finger to wipe the bloodstain.

The fingertips feel cool to the touch.

It didn't feel warm as I expected; instead, it felt like touching a piece of cold iron.

That's not right.

Even freshly spilled blood, even from a dead person, should still be somewhat warm.

But the blood on the knife looked both alive and dead.

Zhou Yang held his finger up to his eyes and examined it carefully in the light that was leaking in through the hole in the tent.

The blood droplet didn't disperse on his fingertip; instead, it coalesced into a small, trembling ball.

He applied a little pressure with his fingertips.

The blood cell exploded.

Instead of splashing out, it spread quickly like ink dripping into water, seeping into the grooves of his fingerprints and forming an extremely fine pattern.

The pattern looks familiar.

It resembled the runes he had seen in some ancient Taoist scriptures, but it was more cursive and wilder.

"Master Jiaqian, you've really met your match this time."

Zhou Yang muttered something to himself.

He squinted, his gaze focusing on the command sword.

In the past, when he looked at things, he focused on the material, the quality, and how much they could sell for.

Now, because of that system, he looks at things to see if they have the potential to "add money".

What if this knife is more than just a knife?

What if it's a key?

He reached out and grasped the hilt of the knife.

A chilling sensation crept into my palm and into my veins, like a small, icy snake burrowing into my flesh.

If an ordinary person were to hold this knife, their tendons would probably be frozen by this eerie energy.

But Zhou Yang is different.

His body had been modified by that strange system, giving him an extremely high tolerance for this coldness.

He even found the chill quite comfortable, like drinking a sip of chilled plum juice on a hot summer day.

In my mind, that familiar semi-transparent interface popped up.

This wasn't something he came up with himself; the system sensed something.

[Special medium detected: Crimson Sky Army Commander's Sword]

The surface is covered with a high concentration of "evil energy" and "blood resentment".

[Parsing... Parsing complete]

[Hidden blood patterns discovered: a total of 365, arranged in a celestial constellation pattern]

[Tip: Blood patterns can be used as a fuse to activate the "Blood Sacrifice Timer" function]

Zhou Yang raised an eyebrow.

Blood Sacrifice Countdown?

The name sounds ominous, but it exudes a sense of sophistication.

He continued reading.

Good items provided by the system usually come with a high price tag.

This time is no exception.

【Function: Blood Sacrifice Timer】

[Effect: Burns the host's lifespan, transforming the blood patterns on the medium into a "blood pact"]

[Consumes: 3,000 years of lifespan]

[Note: Once the blood pact is established, you can unilaterally control the remaining will of the force to which the medium belongs. Simply put, as long as they still recognize this sword, you have the final say.]

Zhou Yang tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

Tap, tap, tap.

Three thousand years.

If this number had been displayed when he first transmigrated, it would have scared him half to death.

At that time, he only had a few decades left to live, so every extra day he lived was a bonus.

But now, after these life-or-death battles, plus all sorts of random enhancements from the system, his remaining lifespan, while not overflowing with wealth, is still a considerable sum.

Especially after killing that cult leader and consuming some strange things, his lifespan bar became so long that it made him dizzy just looking at it.

But this is three thousand years ago.

This is not a small number.

This is equivalent to trading half your life for "obedience".

Is it worth it?

Zhou Yang looked at the knife.

He still clearly remembered the fierceness the one-eyed old man had shown just now.

That is the Crimson Sky Army.

The sharpest knife in the royal family is also the most difficult pack of mad dogs to control.

If he could get his hands on these mad dogs by the neck, then he really wouldn't have to fear anyone in this area.

Commander Chen?

That spoiled brat is nothing compared to the Crimson Cloud Army.

As for the emperor wanting to take this land back?

We'll have to see if the people he sent listen to Zhou Yang.

This is a deal.

I'll use three thousand years of my lifespan to buy absolute control over this territory.

Use time to create space.

Trading life for power.

This aligns perfectly with Zhou Yang's values.

"Since the system has practically handed the menu to us, it would be disrespectful not to take a bite."

Zhou Yang's lips curled into a slight smile.

He gripped the knife handle tightly again.

The icy feeling intensified, almost freezing his hands.

But he didn't let go.

"System, redemption confirmed."

He gave the command in his mind.

There was no fluff, and no dazzling special effects.

There is only one feeling.

emptiness.

It's like a dam suddenly bursting, and something inside the body is leaking out wildly.

That is vitality.

Something that cannot be seen or touched, yet truly exists.

Zhou Yang's face paled slightly.

He felt his heartbeat slow down, each beat like a bellows, heavy and sluggish.

This doesn't feel good.

It felt like my spine had been removed, leaving me feeling weak and limp.

But he didn't fall.

He stared intently at the commander's sword.

The bloodstains on the blade began to boil.

It wasn't the kind of heat that boils over, but rather a violent trembling, like mercury, that moved rapidly.

The bloodstains that had been clinging to the scabbard like dirt began to glow.

The dark red light was eerie and unsettling.

The bloodstains are moving, they are reforming.

They were no longer messy stains, but turned into lines of tiny, scribble-like characters.

These words were deeply engraved into the scabbard, into the bronze ornaments, and even into the knife itself.

That was a contract.

It is a mark imprinted with three thousand years of lifespan.

Zhou Yang felt a burning sensation in his palm.

The icy feeling vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of scalding heat.

The warmth flowed back into his body through his arm, slightly relieving the weakness that felt like his life force had been drained.

He lowered his head.

He discovered a new pattern on the palm of his right hand, where he was holding the knife hilt.

A dark red, slightly twitching eye pattern.

This is the proof of the "blood pact".

Zhou Yang let out a long breath.

As I exhaled, I felt a significant weight lift from my chest.

A lifespan of three thousand years, gone in an instant.

But this knife now belongs to the Zhou family.

He tried to connect the eye pattern on the palm with his mind.

With a loud bang.

A massive and chaotic flow of information rushed into his mind.

That was murderous intent.

Pure, unadulterated killing intent.

But it was also mixed with awe and obedience.

That was the military spirit, or rather, the belief, that the Chixiao Army had accumulated on its weapons over hundreds of years.

As long as you hold this knife, this belief will overcome everything.

Zhou Yang gripped the knife and slowly stood up.

He forcefully suppressed the weakness he had felt from overdrawing his lifespan at this moment.

He looks a bit scary right now.

His face was pale, but his eyes were frighteningly bright, and he was holding a murderous knife that glowed red.

At that moment, the tent flap was lifted.

Qin Shuang walked in.

She still smelled of gunpowder; she had contributed a lot to the fierce battle just now.

As soon as she entered, her gaze fell on Zhou Yang.

Or rather, it landed on the knife in his hand.

As a centurion in the Embroidered Uniform Guard, she had a natural sensitivity to things that represented power and killing.

"This knife...something's not right."

Qin Shuang frowned.

She sensed it.

The aura emanating from this knife now is even more terrifying than it was on the battlefield.

The oppressive feeling made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Zhou Yang turned his head.

The pallor on his face hadn't faded, but his signature nonchalant smile had already appeared on his lips.

"Something's not right."

He picked up the knife and twirled it in his hand.

The blade sliced ​​through the air, emitting a low whimper.

It sounded like cheering, yet also like begging for mercy.

"I just spent some money to upgrade it."

Zhou Yang said it casually.

"upgrade?"

Qin Shuang was somewhat confused.

What she saw was a deadly weapon soaked in blood.

But in Zhou Yang's eyes, it was clearly a huge check that had just been signed.

"Yeah, it cost quite a bit."

Zhou Yang didn't explain what he meant by "spent a lot".

Some things, if told to those who understand, are just showing off; if told to those who don't, are just asking for trouble.

Qin Shuang clearly belongs to the latter category, but he doesn't mind treating her as the former.

Anyway, she'll be one of us from now on.

"How's the tidying up outside?"

Zhou Yang changed the subject.

He sheathed his knife, and the terrifying sense of oppression vanished instantly, as if everything that had just happened was merely an illusion.

Qin Shuang didn't press the matter.

She knew that Zhou Yang couldn't keep secrets, but he could also keep things to himself.

Since he's not saying it now, it means the time isn't right yet.

"That's about it."

Qin Shuang walked to the table and glanced at the map that was being held down by a knife.

"The remaining remnants of the Chixiao Army, numbering about two hundred, are all tied up in the open area east of the camp."

"Is he dead?" Zhou Yang asked.

"He's not dead."

Qin Shuang shook her head. "Most of them were injured, but not quite dead. Even if they weren't dead, they're pretty much crippled. These guys are tough; one of them even tried to bite his tongue to commit suicide, but the brothers dislocated his jaw."

Zhou Yang nodded.

now it's right.

If the Crimson Cloud Army surrendered easily, then the "blood patterns" on this sword wouldn't be worth three thousand years of lifespan.

It is precisely because it is tough and difficult that this "contract" is valuable.

"Let's go take a look."

Zhou Yang lifted his foot and walked out.

"Where to?"

"Go check out my new assets."

Zhou Yang stepped out of the tent.

The sun was shining brightly outside.

The ground was still steaming after the rain, mixed with the smell of blood, which made people feel nauseous.

But now, when he smells it, he finds the scent particularly comforting.

This is the taste of victory.

It also smells of money.

The two walked through the messy camp.

The roadside was piled high with captured weapons, armor, and various valuable trinkets stripped from the dead.

The guards were taking inventory, each one sweating profusely, but their eyes were shining.

If you follow Zhou Yang, you can get rich as long as you don't die.

This is already a consensus.

On the open ground east of the camp, a group of people were kneeling.

There are probably two or three hundred.

These people were all wearing light, crimson armor, but now most of the armor was damaged, revealing deep wounds that exposed bone.

Blood had glued their armor and clothes together, a horrifying sight.

Their jaws had been removed, or their mouths had been tightly strangled with thick hemp rope, leaving them only able to make muffled "hoho" sounds.

But the eyes of these people were wide open.

He did not beg for mercy.

There was no fear.

Only that kind of venomous resentment, like a wolf, that wants to devour a person alive.

The guards around them held spears and pointed them warily at the group.

It was obvious to everyone that this group of prisoners was a powder keg.

If you're not careful, it will explode.

Zhou Yang walked to the front of the crowd.

He stopped in his tracks.

At that moment, the prisoners who had been struggling suddenly fell silent.

It's not because they want quiet.

It was because Zhou Yang pulled out the knife.

That's the command sword.

The moment the blade was drawn, its dark red light was particularly dazzling in the sunlight.

All the soldiers of the Crimson Sky Army were captivated by that sword.

Their pupils contracted sharply.

My body began to tremble uncontrollably.

That deep-seated fear and awe were like whips, lashing their souls.

This is an instinct ingrained in our bones.

This knife represents their heaven, their earth, and all their beliefs.

Now, the knife is in the hands of a young man dressed in inconspicuous black clothes.

Zhou Yang looked at them.

He didn't speak.

He simply raised the knife high and then plunged it heavily into the soil in front of him.

puff.

The blade was mostly submerged, leaving only the hilt sticking out.

The "eye" pattern on my palm started to get hot.

Zhou Yang had a sudden thought.

An invisible wave spread from the hilt of the knife throughout the open space.

Those Crimson Sky Army soldiers who had been staring at him with venomous eyes collapsed to the ground as if their souls had been ripped out.

Their heads, without prior arrangement, lowered in unison, facing the direction of the knife.

This is a form of submission.

They did not submit because they were defeated.

Rather, it's because some older, deeper rule has been activated.

Zhou Yang sensed it.

He sensed that an invisible line had been drawn between him and these people.

The moment he has a thought, this thread will tighten.

Or it could lead them to their deaths, or it could lead them to commit murder.

This is the power of the "blood pact".

This is what I gained in exchange for three thousand years of lifespan.

Qin Shuang stood aside, watching this scene, her eyes twitching slightly.

Although she didn't understand what Zhou Yang had done, she knew that the situation had changed.

Everything has changed completely.

Just moments ago they were a pack of ferocious tigers that could suddenly attack and hurt people, but now they've turned into a flock of obedient sheep.

This cannot be achieved by force alone.

There's a trick to this.

Zhou Yang drew his knife.

The bloodstains subsided.

He turned around and smiled at Qin Shuang.

"These people are ours now."

He spoke casually, as if he were talking about picking up a basket of eggs.

"But raising them takes up a lot of food. Let's pick out the useless ones and bury them later."

"Take good care of the rest."

Zhou Yang patted the dirt off the knife.

"From now on, we'll have to rely on them for our work."

Qin Shuang looked at Zhou Yang's profile.

The sunlight shone on his face, obscuring his expression.

But she suddenly realized that this man, who always talked about "adding money," actually knew better than anyone how to survive in this world.

And they live better than anyone else.

"understood."

Qin Shuang nodded.

She turned and yelled at the still-stunned guards, "What are you all standing there for! Didn't you hear what the master said? Drag them all back!"

The guards seemed to wake from a dream, and they all agreed and rushed forward to drag away the prisoners of the Crimson Sky Army.

Zhou Yang ignored all of this.

He gripped the knife, feeling the still slightly warm mark on his palm.

These three thousand years have been well spent.

With this pack of mad dogs, he was no longer a pawn to be manipulated on the chessboard.

He's not a gambler, but a gambler who can overturn the table.

He looked up at the sky.

The sun was at its zenith.

It's still early.

The real show has only just begun.

He sheathed the knife.

The system interface that had been frantically flashing in my mind just moments before has now fallen silent.

Only a line of small print remained, flickering in the corner.

The blood pact has taken effect.

Current lifespan remaining: ...

Zhou Yang didn't look at the number.

Anyway, the money's already spent, and there's no going back now.

He strode toward his tent.

I'm a little hungry.

I wonder if there are any leftover roasted lamb legs in the kitchen.

After all, it's a good thing to nourish your body.

Even if it's just to live back to those three thousand years, this meal has to be good.

"Tell the cook to bring out his skills."

He passed by a fire where water was boiling and casually gave an order.

"Extra meal today."

The soldiers by the fire were stunned for a moment, then burst into cheers.

Zhou Yang smiled and walked away with light steps.

With blood as the pen, this stroke has altered the very essence of this chaotic world.

As for whether the final result was a painting or a funny face.

That depends on his mood.

Anyway, the paintbrush is in his hands.

Chapter 705 Blood Pact Transaction (Power Accumulation - Lifespan Transaction Closed Loop - Power Accumulation)

Zhou Yang sat cross-legged in the center of the secret room, the walls of which were covered with dark red talismans. A faint musty smell permeated the air, mixed with the sandalwood incense that had been burned earlier, making it smell somewhat stuffy.

He stared at the thin parchment scroll in his palm, a scroll he'd found in the possession of a long-surviving elder of the Heavenly Principle Sect. This thing was called a "Blood Pact," which, in theory, could establish a temporary spatial anchor point through blood sacrifice. As long as the anchor point was deep enough, it could forcibly tear a gap between two places, achieving instantaneous displacement.

However, this forbidden technique has a fatal flaw: it requires an extremely high concentration of life essence to activate.

For ordinary people, trying this method is basically like sacrificing themselves alive, ending up with a bloody mess.

Zhou Yang sneered. This so-called "fatal" flaw was actually the most convenient shortcut for him.

He opened his eyes and his gaze lingered on the system interface for a second.

Current life expectancy: 12,450 years

This number represents absolute luxury in this world, but the price to obtain a "back door" that allows one to enter and exit the palace at any time is obviously not low.

"Three thousand years should be enough."

Zhou Yang silently recited in his heart.

The next moment, without hesitation, he issued the consumption command.

hum.

An indescribable heaviness instantly enveloped his entire body. Zhou Yang felt his heart contract violently, as if it were being squeezed tightly by an invisible hand. Then, a burst of scorching energy suddenly exploded from the base of his spine, transforming into countless tiny blood-red threads that frantically seeped into his limbs and bones.

This feeling is uncomfortable; it's like countless tiny needles are going back and forth in your blood vessels, scratching your skin and causing pain.

Zhou Yang's breathing became rapid, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He stared intently at the blood pact in his palm, suppressing the trembling in his body, and forcibly poured the energy generated by burning his lifespan into it.

The moment the parchment came into contact with the energy, it emitted a slight hissing sound. The originally withered yellow material quickly turned red, like a sponge soaked in blood, greedily devouring Zhou Yang's life force.

Its three-thousand-year lifespan was quickly reduced to zero on the system interface.

As the last bit of energy was injected, the runes on the blood pact suddenly burst out with a blinding red light, and then, like a living thing, they burrowed into Zhou Yang's left wrist.

A red light flashed beneath the skin, and an ancient, blood-red mark appeared faintly on the wrist.

Zhou Yang let out a long sigh, collapsing to the ground and panting heavily. He felt as if a large part of his body had been hollowed out. Although it didn't affect his combat ability, the mental emptiness sent a chill down his spine for no reason.

He raised his hand and looked at the mark.

Now, this mark is his key.

As long as he locks onto a coordinate in his mind and injects a small amount of essence blood into the mark, he can instantly teleport through the "Blood Path".

The target, of course, was that forbidden area—the secret library of the Imperial Study inside the palace.

Zhou Yang sat in the secret room for half an hour until his heartbeat returned to normal. He got up, walked to the basin, washed his face with cold water, and looked at himself in the mirror, his face slightly pale but his eyes sinister.

He didn't need a large army to invade, nor did he need any legitimate reason. All he needed was a successful infiltration to take the secret scroll that unsettled the royal family, and then he could turn the emperor into his pawn in the ensuing power struggle.

"Let's go."

Zhou Yang whispered something, and the blood-red mark on his left wrist suddenly lit up.

He closed his eyes, mentally rehearsing the locations he had noted when he infiltrated the palace. He didn't need to be precise down to every single tile, just a general area.

A crimson light instantly enveloped him, and the surrounding air seemed to be forcibly sucked out, creating a violent vacuum.

A short tearing sound rang in my ears, like tearing a thick piece of silk.

When I opened my eyes, the scenery around me had changed drastically.

There was no musty smell, no talismans; instead, there was a rich sandalwood scent and a warm, smooth Persian carpet underfoot.

This is the secret storage corridor behind the Imperial Study.

The surroundings were eerily quiet, with only a few palace lanterns on the wall swaying gently in the breeze, their flames occasionally flickering and casting distorted shadows on the wall.

Zhou Yang quickly lowered his body, like a cheetah lurking in the shadows. He didn't act immediately, but listened quietly to the sounds around him.

The sound of steady footsteps came from afar; it must be guards on patrol.

He calculated the time, and the instant the footsteps faded into the distance, his figure flashed, as fast as a blur, and he was right in front of the heavy bronze door of the secret vault.

The door was covered with intricate restrictions, which would kill any ordinary person who touched it. However, Zhou Yang now possessed the "Blood Path" access, which he had obtained by trading three thousand years of his lifespan. Such low-level bloodline restrictions were practically negligible to him.

He reached out and lightly wiped the door lock, a trace of blood seeping into the keyhole from his fingertip.

Click.

With a soft thud, the heavy bronze door slowly slid open to the sides, revealing a gloomy scene inside.

The secret vault was filled with all sorts of files, but Zhou Yang had only one goal.

Deep within the secret vault was a small safe made of black iron. Without any hesitation, he walked straight up and, before the other party could detect the intrusion, used brute force combined with the unlocking techniques deduced by the system to force it open.

Nestled within layers of silk, a yellowed, old scroll lay quietly.

This is the "Royal Secret Scroll".

Zhou Yang quickly tucked it into his pocket, his movements swift and decisive, wasting not a second.

Just as he was about to leave, urgent shouts suddenly came from outside the corridor.

"Quickly! Go check the secret vault!"

It must have been the patrolling guards who noticed the anomaly.

A smile curved Zhou Yang's lips. He wasn't panicked; instead, he seemed quite relaxed. He activated the blood pact on his wrist again, and the red light flashed once more.

When a large number of Imperial Guards burst through the bronze doors, the secret vault was empty.

Only a faint smell of blood lingered in the air, along with a black iron cabinet that had been violently pried open.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yang had already returned to his secret room.

He casually tossed the secret scroll onto the table, walked to the basin, and washed his face again.

Three thousand years of lifespan may be expensive, but in exchange for this back door to the palace that allows free access and this secret scroll that could cost the emperor his life, this deal is ridiculously worthwhile.

He picked up the prepared leg of lamb, tore off a large piece, and as he chewed, a look of triumphant satisfaction flashed in his eyes.

In this world, the best deal is always one where the other party pays for everything without even knowing it, while you only contribute a little "time".

Chapter 706 Royal Secret Scrolls (Foreshadowing - The Closed Loop of Imperial Power Suppression and Counterattack - Foreshadowing)

The candlelight in the secret room flickered.

Zhou Yang tossed the lamb leg bone into the plate and casually picked up a damp cloth from the table to wipe his fingers. The grease wasn't completely wiped away; a slightly slippery feeling remained in the crevices of his fingerprints.

He picked up the secret document.

The cover was made of ordinary black cloth, which felt rough to the touch, and the edges were badly worn, revealing the yellowed cardboard underneath. The workmanship was even less refined than that of the covers of popular novels on the market.

Who would have thought that beneath this thin layer of cloth lay the very roots of the entire Wei imperial family?

Zhou Yang unsealed the sealing wax.

The sealing wax was deeply applied, and the design featured a circling nine-headed bird. This was a unique mark of the Imperial Treasury, appearing only on documents personally reviewed by the Emperor.

He turned to the first page.

The handwriting was very neat, even somewhat rigid and formal, as if each stroke had been measured and written with a ruler. The scribe was clearly very cautious, afraid that writing a single character crookedly would cost him his head.

"In the year 3420 of the Heavenly Calendar, an celestial messenger from the Upper Realm descended."

Zhou Yang read the line of text aloud.

This page doesn't contain any earth-shattering secrets; it simply records an ordinary tribute mission: gold and silver jewels, spirit stone mines, and three hundred young boys and girls.

He frowned, his fingers quickly tracing the pages until he reached the middle.

The paper here is noticeably newer, and the ink isn't as dark.

"In the 360,000th year of the Heavenly Calendar, the Emperor made an alliance with the Celestial Envoy and established the covenant of 'blood sacrifice'."

Zhou Yang's gaze stopped.

Below this text is a strange drawing. The lines are twisted, like a river that has been forcibly torn apart.

He leaned closer to examine the annotations beside him. The annotations were written in vermilion, the color so bright it was almost blinding.

"The blood of the Celestial Venerable is the only key to unlocking the Path to Heaven. Every 100,000 years, one person holding the bloodline of the Celestial Venerable must be sacrificed. Three liters of their heart's blood, one set of bones, and one spirit are offered at the Platform to Heaven."

Zhou Yang tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

Celestial Venerable Bloodline.

He was familiar with those four words. This so-called "divine blood" flowed through his own veins. However, he used to think it was just a physique that could make him cultivate faster, or proof of some ancient heritage.

In retrospect, this seems more like a trap that was dug long ago.

He continued reading.

"The chosen recipient of this sacrifice is the heir of the Prince of Zhenbei. This child possesses an extremely pure bloodline, sufficient to appease the wrath of the upper realm and secure the dynasty's eternal fortune."

The heir apparent of the Prince of Zhenbei.

Zhou Yang remembered this person. Five years ago, the entire Zhenbei Prince's Mansion was massacred overnight, with only the heir missing. At the time, the court's explanation was that the Heavenly Principle Sect was causing trouble, which enraged the emperor, who even dismissed three border generals.

The whole country knows that the emperor is a man of great loyalty and righteousness, and he is heartbroken over the tragic deaths of his sworn brothers.

Now that this secret document is laid out before us, the truth is like rotten flesh turned upside down, emitting a foul stench.

That massacre was not the work of the Heavenly Principle Sect at all.

It was the emperor himself who did it.

Or perhaps, the emperor orchestrated a whole show to collect this "tribute."

Zhou Yang flipped through a few pages of the secret document.

Attached to the list was a long list of names, numbering in the hundreds. Each name was followed by its specific birth date and the degree of bloodline connection.

Some names were crossed out in red pen.

The crossed-out names are those of people who have already "completed their transactions".

At the end of the list, Zhou Yang saw several familiar names.

Qin Shuang.

The two words were circled in yellow, and next to them was a line of extremely small regular script: "Bloodline concentration grade C, temporarily reserved for use as bait."

Below that line of text is another name.

Zhou Yang.

The annotations that follow are more detailed: "The Celestial Venerable's bloodline is perfectly replicated, but its potential is unknown. It is recommended to keep it in captivity for a long time until its bloodline is fully developed, at which point it can be used as the main ingredient in the Ten Thousand Year Grand Sacrifice."

Domesticated.

Zhou Yang smirked and let out a sneer.

It turns out that in the emperor's eyes, he was just a pig kept in a pen. When to slaughter him, when to kill him, everything was arranged clearly.

They even came up with a plan to kill him.

"I could hear the sound of this scheme from ten miles away."

He closed the secret scroll and casually weighed it in his hand.

It is very lightweight.

But when it touches people's hearts, it weighs heavier than a thousand-pound boulder.

If this document were to leak out, the very foundation of the Great Wei would crumble. What expressions would those soldiers loyal to the royal family, those aristocratic families who took pride in it, have when they learned that the emperor they served was nothing more than a puppet groveling before foreign tribes?

More importantly, this involves the "upper boundary".

Although Zhou Yang had never met any celestial envoys, his transmigrator's intuition told him that this matter was not so simple. Anyone who would sacrifice their bloodline for fortune was definitely not acting in a legitimate way.

He placed the secret scroll over the candlelight.

The flame did not lick the paper, but stopped half an inch away from the cover.

"It would be a waste to burn it."

Zhou Yang withdrew his hand and pushed the secret scroll to a corner of the table.

These things are more valuable if you keep them.

If it's burned, there will be no way to prove it, and the emperor could easily accuse it of being a forgery. Only by making it public and letting everyone see it can this matter be settled clearly.

He stood up, pushed open the door, and went out.

The night outside was dark, and the wind carried a dusty, earthy smell. The campfire in the camp had gone out halfway, and only a few patrolling guards were still moving about.

"Go and summon the centurion."

Zhou Yang gave an order to the guards at the door.

The guard paused for a moment, then nodded and ran off.

Not long after, Qin Shuang walked over wearing a thin cloak. Her face was somewhat pale, clearly showing that the recent continuous travel had taken its toll.

"What happened?"

She glanced at Zhou Yang's face, her voice tinged with wariness.

Zhou Yang didn't say anything, but simply turned to the side and let her into the secret room.

Qin Shuang walked to the table and immediately saw the tightly wrapped scroll in black cloth. She frowned at first, then reached out and opened it.

The room was very quiet.

The only sounds were the rustling of Qin Shuang turning pages, occasionally punctuated by her heavy breathing.

When Qin Shuang turned to the page about the "Heir Apparent of the Prince of Zhenbei," her hand trembled. The paper made a crisp sound, which was particularly jarring in the silent space.

She didn't speak, but just stared intently at the line of text.

The edges of his fingers turned a ghastly white from the force he exerted.

"I see."

After a long while, she finally uttered those four words softly.

The voice was cold, as if it were coming from an ice cellar.

"Five years ago, I investigated for three whole years, turning the Tianli Sect's branches upside down, leaving not even a mouse behind."

Qin Shuang raised her head and looked at Zhou Yang, her eyes bloodshot.

"The root of the problem lies right here in the Golden Palace."

She suddenly laughed.

His smile was somewhat distorted, carrying a sense of madness on the verge of collapse.

"My cheapskate father, in order to curry favor with the higher realms, would even send away his own brother's son. No wonder he always told me not to investigate further, no wonder he always said 'for the greater good'."

Zhou Yang looked at her without interrupting.

In situations like this, it's better to vent than to bottle it up.

Qin Shuang took a deep breath and closed the secret scroll. She closed her eyes, calmed herself for a while, and when she opened them again, the madness in her eyes had subsided considerably, replaced by a bone-chilling coldness.

"What do you want to do?"

She asked.

Zhou Yang took out a jade slip from his pocket.

He casually grabbed this from that black iron cabinet; it's a ritual implement specifically used for making rubbings of esoteric texts. Although it doesn't have the same legal force as the original, it's easier to spread and copy.

"If the emperor wants to play dirty tricks, then we'll play a big one for him."

Zhou Yang pasted the jade slip onto the secret scroll.

A faint light flashed, and the contents of the secret scroll were completely copied into it.

"This thing can't just be shown to us."

Zhou Yang picked up the jade slip and tossed it in his hand.

"Sharing happiness is worse than enjoying it alone."

Qin Shuang understood what he meant.

"Are you going to go public?"

"Not only publicly."

Zhou Yang walked to a corner of the secret room, where a large stack of Xuan paper and inkpads were piled up. These were prepared for posting notices, and now they came in handy.

"We want to plaster this all over the streets and alleys of Beijing."

He picked up a sheet of Xuan paper and placed the jade slip on top of it. As the light shimmered, lines of clear characters emerged.

"Let those aristocratic families who are still serving the emperor see what kind of people their master is."

As Zhou Yang spoke, he quickly began printing.

"Let those self-proclaimed loyal ministers see what kind of corpses are on which the 'national system' they uphold."

As Qin Shuang watched his movements, her eyes gradually hardened.

She went over, picked up a stack of papers, and started helping to fold them.

"Having content alone is not enough."

Qin Shuang suddenly spoke.

"The emperor can say that this is a forgery, a lie you fabricated to overthrow the court."

Zhou Yang stopped what he was doing, took a waist tag from his waist, and threw it on the table.

That was another item he found in the black iron cabinet—the emperor's private seal.

Although it wasn't the Imperial Seal of the State, it was the emperor's private seal, used specifically for handling confidential matters. This private seal was the last thing stamped on this secret document.

"With this, it will be difficult for him to renege on his debt."

Zhou Yang picked up his personal seal, dipped it in the red ink, and then pressed it heavily onto the signature area of ​​each copy.

The bright red mark looked particularly glaring in the dim candlelight.

One serving, two servings, ten servings...

Soon, a thick stack of papers was piled up on the ground.

Zhou Yang straightened up and rubbed his slightly sore neck.

"This job is too tiring."

He complained and then waved to Qin Shuang.

"Call people in, call a lot of them. We're not going to sleep tonight, we have to finish this 'story'."

Qin Shuang turned and walked to the door, beckoning to the guards outside.

A dozen trusted men silently slipped into the secret room. Seeing the papers on the floor, they didn't ask any questions, but simply picked up the paper and the printer and began their assembly-line operation.

Zhou Yang walked to the side, picked up the water bottle, and took a sip of cold water.

The cool liquid slid down my throat, taking away the heat from my body.

"The situation in the capital is likely to change tomorrow."

He looked at the busy crowd, a smile appearing on his lips.

This time, he doesn't need to sacrifice his lifespan to exchange for any divine skills or ultimate techniques.

This time, what he'll be using is people's hearts.

There is no knife sharper than the truth.

The emperor thought that by controlling the army and holding power, he could manipulate everyone at will.

But he forgot that power is built upon order.

When the foundation of order is hollowed out, when everyone sees the piles of bones beneath that magnificent dragon throne, that so-called imperial power becomes a joke.

Zhou Yang picked up a printed flyer and looked at it closely by the candlelight.

The handwriting is clear and the seal is intact.

Even the details of the emperor's slightly crooked private seal are restored clearly.

"That's about it."

He folded the flyer and put it into the envelope.

"Let the brothers split up and act separately."

Zhou Yang turned to look at Qin Shuang.

"Leave the east side to Zhao Laosan, and the west side to Li Mazi. Remember, don't stick them on the walls; they're too conspicuous and the patrolmen will spot them easily."

"Just stuff it into the cracks of each household's door."

"Especially at the gates of those aristocratic families, princes and nobles, stuff a few more portions in."

Qin Shuang nodded and began to arrange manpower.

Before long, a dozen dark figures darted out of the secret room and disappeared into the vast night. They carried thick stacks of papers in their arms, as if they were carrying bombs about to explode.

Zhou Yang stood at the door, watching their backs as they walked away.

A gust of wind blew by, stirring up a few scraps of paper on the ground.

"You're using their own methods against them."

Qin Shuang walked to his side, her voice somewhat low.

"If the emperor wants to use the Crimson Sky Army to suppress you, then you should use this to suppress him."

"That's different."

Zhou Yang waved his hand.

"The Crimson Sky Army relies on brute force; they believe in might makes right. My approach is to educate, to enlighten, and to broaden everyone's horizons."

He turned around, leaned against the door frame, and looked at the busy crowd inside.

"Besides, this deal is a good one."

"It's not my style not to make the most of what I've gained over thousands of years of life."

Qin Shuang turned her head to look at him.

The candlelight cast shadows on Zhou Yang's face, creating an interplay of light and shadow. She suddenly realized that this man, who always had "more money" on his lips, seemed to possess a reassuring composure at this moment.

Although this composure is built on an extremely dangerous foundation.

"If the emperor gets anxious, he might directly mobilize a large army to besiege the city."

Qin Shuang raised a very practical question.

"Then let him surround it."

Zhou Yang shrugged, looking indifferent.

"It's written clearly in this secret scroll that the celestial envoys from the upper realm come once every 100,000 years. Judging by the timeline, their next visit will be in the next few years."

"The emperor is currently in a frantic rush to prepare tribute. If we make a scene like this, he'll definitely suspect that we've leaked the information."

"Once suspicion arises, the show becomes interesting."

Zhou Yang reached out and yawned.

"Moreover, the more eager he is to mobilize the army, the more it proves that he is guilty."

"Those who have a guilty conscience are often the first to die."

Qin Shuang didn't say anything more.

She knew Zhou Yang was right. This was a psychological game. Whoever panicked first would lose.

Inside the sealed room, the last stack of flyers was neatly arranged.

Zhou Yang walked over, picked up the top one, and put it in his pocket.

"Leave one for me."

He patted his chest.

"Tomorrow morning at court, I want to see what expression that 'Emperor of a Thousand Ages' will have on his face when he hears the commotion throughout the city."

Qin Shuang looked at him, a rare smile appearing on her lips.

"Then remember to stay away from me tomorrow morning."

She said it casually.

"To avoid getting splattered with blood."

Zhou Yang grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth.

"Don't worry, I'm most afraid of dying."

"If there is blood splattered, it belongs to someone else."

He turned and walked back to the table, picked up the half-eaten lamb leg, and took another bite.

The cooled mutton became somewhat hard and was difficult to chew.

But he ate with great relish.

Because the next meal is destined to be very lavish.

The night was darker.

The streets of the capital were deathly silent, save for the occasional sound of the night watchman's gong. And in the darkness, behind door cracks and in corners, thin pieces of paper lay quietly, awaiting the arrival of dawn.

That's the fuse.

Once ignited, it will blow the entire Wei royal family to smithereens.

Zhou Yang threw the bone into the fire pit, watching sparks fly everywhere.

"The show is about to begin."

Chapter 707 Public Exposure (Outbreak - Imperial Power Suppression Counterattack Closed Loop - Outbreak)

The sky had just begun to brighten.

The capital city was like a giant beast awakened from its slumber, bewildered and restless.

Old Liu, who lived in the south of the city, was a night watchman. He had been walking all night, shaking his clapper, and was about to go home. As he pushed open his courtyard gate, a piece of paper fluttered down and landed right on his forehead.

"What the hell?" he muttered, peeling off the paper.

The text on it was densely packed with words, printed with mimeograph ink, and it even smelled of ink.

Old Liu was illiterate. He peered at the paper in the morning light for a long time, only recognizing the character "皇" (emperor). He pursed his lips, crumpled the paper into a ball, and was about to throw it away when a commotion erupted from the alley entrance.

A group of early-morning breakfast vendors gathered around a scholar in a long gown, who was reading aloud from the same piece of paper in a trembling voice.

"...The royal treasury, under the guise of disaster relief, plundered the people's wealth, and in reality... the money flowed into the princes' private coffers to build their private gardens..."

The scholar's voice grew softer and softer.

The steamed bun shop owner, who was standing around, forgot about the freshly steamed buns in the pot. He stared wide-eyed, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Is what's written here true?"

"I don't know! They're everywhere!"

"Look, look!"

The crowd erupted in chaos. Old Liu hesitated for a moment, then squeezed through. Although he was illiterate, he could read the faces of those around him. They weren't just onlookers' faces; they were filled with fear, anger, and the long-suppressed fire that had finally found a spark.

A thought suddenly popped into his head.

He remembered that last year, a major flood had inundated his two acres of land. The government had said there would be disaster relief funds, but after waiting for three months, they received only two bushels of moldy, stale rice.

His son went to the county government office to inquire and was even beaten with a board.

Old Liu's hands unconsciously clenched tighter.

More and more people emerged from their homes. Deadly scraps of paper were everywhere—in door cracks, under walls. Like last night's snowflakes, they fell silently, yet carried a heat capable of burning an entire dynasty to ashes.

In the teahouse, the storyteller didn't sing today. All the tea drinkers gathered around a waiter, listening to him stammer as he read the secret scroll.

"...In the Crown Prince's Garden, twelve palace maids died unjustly...their remains were buried in a dry well behind the mountain..."

"Snapped!"

A teacup was smashed on the ground.

"My daughter! My daughter was chosen to enter the palace! Five years have passed, and there's been no news of her!" A businessman suddenly stood up, his eyes bloodshot.

The entire teahouse was deathly silent.

Then, someone made the first move. A table was overturned.

"Let's go! To the palace!"

"Yes! Let's go ask them and find out!"

"They can't bully people like this!"

The crowd surged out of the teahouse, merging into the already raging river of people on the street. Countless angry faces, countless burning eyes. They had no weapons, but what they clutched in their hands was that thin piece of paper, yet it carried more weight than any sword or blade.

They headed towards the imperial city.

The footsteps went from scattered to orderly, and then to like muffled thunder. The entire capital city trembled in the sound of this thunder.

---

The Imperial Palace, Zichen Hall.

Dead silence.

The air seemed to freeze, and the wisps of smoke rising from the incense burner appeared to be suspended in mid-air.

Emperor Wei sat on the dragon throne, his face ashen. It wasn't anger, but the chilling calm before a fit of rage. His fingers tapped softly on the armrests of the throne, a sound that sent shivers down the spines of every minister standing below.

On the ground, a eunuch was kneeling, trembling like a leaf.

"Your Majesty... the capital... the capital is in chaos..."

"What chaos!" Emperor Wei's voice wasn't loud, but it pierced like an icicle. "Just a few troublemakers trying to stir up trouble! Seize them and kill them!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than another commander of the Palace Guard rushed in, stumbling and crawling.

"Your Majesty! Something terrible has happened! The palace...the palace gates are packed with people! A dense, overwhelming crowd, blocking all the roads!"

The Wei emperor's expression finally changed.

He suddenly stood up and walked to the entrance of the hall.

Through the heavy palace gates, he could almost hear the deafening clamor outside. It wasn't the commotion of the common people; it was the roar of wild beasts.

"Rebellion! They've all rebelled!" he roared. "Where are the Imperial Guards? Suppress them!"

"Your Majesty, you mustn't!" An old minister, the current prime minister, knelt down with a thud, tears streaming down his face. "The people have only been deceived by treacherous officials. If we suppress them with force, it will only incite a greater popular uprising! Then, the foundation of the nation... the foundation of the nation will be unstable!"

"The foundation of the nation is unstable?" Emperor Wei sneered, turning to look at the kneeling ministers. "You bunch of useless fools! You're all full of lofty pronouncements all the time, but when trouble comes, all you know how to do is kneel and cry!"

His gaze swept over everyone.

Those officials who were once so eloquent and persuasive all lowered their heads, avoiding his gaze. They were afraid. They knew what was written on that piece of paper outside. Some of those things they had been involved in, others they had heard about. It wasn't just a bucket of dirty water; it was a knife held to everyone's throats.

Anyone who dares to step forward will die.

"Your Majesty, the most urgent task is to find out the truth and appease the people..."

"Appease them? How do we appease them? Tell them that it's all true?" Emperor Wei kicked the bronze crane beside him, which swayed and then crashed to the ground.

Just then.

"boom--!!!"

A loud bang.

The two heavy vermilion doors of the Zichen Palace were rammed open from the outside. The massive door panels flew inward, knocking down two guards who couldn't dodge in time.

The blinding sunlight and deafening noise rushed in instantly.

Everyone was stunned by this sudden scene.

A figure, bathed in sunlight, stands against the light at the doorway.

He couldn't see the face clearly, only an outline.

His robe was so faded it was unrecognizable, stained with patches of dark red and black blood, and in some places torn, revealing the flesh beneath. He held a knife in his hand, the blade still dripping blood.

He looked like a demon who had just crawled out of hell, carrying a heavy stench of blood and murderous intent.

The imperial guards at the gate raised their weapons in terror, but none dared to step forward. They recognized him.

Zhou Yang, a member of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Zhou Yang carried the knife and walked in step by step.

His leather boots left bloody marks on the smooth, gold-brick floor. Each step felt like stepping on everyone's heart.

He walked to the center of the hall and stood still.

He didn't look at the furious emperor on the dragon throne, nor at the trembling officials below. He simply raised his hand and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

It was the original of that royal secret scroll.

"His Majesty."

He spoke. His voice was calm, even carrying a hint of hoarse weariness, but in the deathly silent hall, it was eerily clear.

"Do you want to know why the people outside are angry?"

The Wei Emperor stared intently at him, his eyes seeming to want to devour him alive. "Zhou Yang! How dare you! Do you intend to rebel?!"

Zhou Yang ignored him.

He simply held up the secret scroll, facing the assembled officials and also towards the doorway.

"Because they saw this."

He paused, then his voice suddenly rose, drowning out all the noise outside.

"In the 152nd year of the Jianyuan era of the Great Wei Dynasty, the imperial court, under the pretext of 'military pay for the pacification of the west,' increased taxes by 30%. In reality, less than one-tenth of the funds were actually used to pay the military pay; the remainder was used by His Majesty to build the 'Wan'an Palace'!"

"In the 150th year of the Jianyuan era, a severe drought struck the north, leaving countless people starving. The imperial granaries were opened to distribute grain, but all that was released was stale rice, and less than a hundred bushels were distributed daily! At the same time, the Crown Prince's private treasury received ten thousand taels of gold!"

"In the 148th year of the Jianyuan era, Huainan suffered a severe flood, leaving 300,000 people homeless. The imperial court allocated 5 million taels of silver for disaster relief. However, after an investigation by the Ministry of Revenue, it was found that less than 30% of this money ultimately ended up in the pockets of Huainan officials!"

Each time he read a passage, it was as if a heavy hammer was slamming into the Zichen Palace.

The ministers' faces grew paler and paler. Some had already collapsed to the ground.

Emperor Wei's body began to tremble uncontrollably. He pointed at Zhou Yang, his lips quivering, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Those things are all true. He did them, and he gave the orders.

Zhou Yang's gaze finally landed on the emperor's face. There was no awe or fear in his eyes, only a cold, all-knowing understanding.

"Your Majesty," he said softly, his voice more thunderous than any thunderclap, "you see, this empire is no longer yours."

"It's on fire."

Chapter 708 The Signing of the "Crimson Alliance" (Foreshadowing - The Closed Loop of Imperial Power Suppression and Counterattack - Foreshadowing)

It was very quiet inside the Zichen Palace.

It was so quiet you could hear the sound of teeth chattering.

Several elderly civil officials were already slumped on the ground, their trousers soaked and emitting a foul odor. They dared not look at Zhou Yang, nor at the emperor. They simply buried their heads in their arms, like a flock of chickens awaiting slaughter.

Emperor Wei's body trembled even more violently. His well-preserved face had lost all color, turning into a pale, ashen sheet. The knuckles of his finger pointing at Zhou Yang protruded from the force, resembling a withered twig.

"It's on fire..."

Zhou Yang repeated those three words softly. He walked step by step toward the throne. With each step, the sound of his boots hitting the gold bricks was like a heavy hammer, striking everyone's heart.

Finally, he stopped three steps in front of the throne.

He didn't look up at the emperor, but instead lowered his eyes to look at a speck of blood on the toe of his boot. It was the blood of the one-eyed old general.

"Your Majesty," he spoke again, his tone as calm as if discussing the weather, "the empire is yours. But what's burning is your house. Should you put out the fire, or watch it burn to ashes and then rebuild?"

Emperor Wei's body jolted violently.

He looked at Zhou Yang. This young man, though standing on his own turf, acted as if this were his own backyard. That composure that emanated from his very bones sent a chill down his spine.

He knew that if he didn't get an explanation today, he wouldn't be able to leave this hall.

No, this entire palace could become a tomb.

The fear in the emperor's eyes slowly faded, replaced by a deathly calm. He slowly lowered his hand and sat up straight. The gold thread on his dragon robe glittered in the candlelight, but it no longer reflected any trace of his former majesty.

"What do you want?" Emperor Wei asked. His voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded.

Zhou Yang looked up and smiled. The smile was faint, yet it carried the satisfaction of a hunter watching his prey fall into a trap.

I need a guarantee.

He held up one finger.

"A guarantee that will put everyone's mind at ease."

The Wei Emperor fell silent. He was thinking. He was weighing his options. As an emperor who had lived for decades in the struggle for imperial power, he knew very well when to bow his head.

Bowing your head is so that you can raise it higher in the future.

"it is good."

He uttered a single word. Then, turning to an old eunuch behind him who was so terrified he almost wanted to disappear into the ground, he said, "Pen and ink."

The old eunuch scrambled to get ready.

Soon, a long, bright yellow silk cloth was laid out on the imperial desk. Two wolf-hair brushes and a fine Huizhou ink stick were also present.

The Wei Emperor personally ground the ink. The ink stick spun on the inkstone, making a monotonous grinding sound. This sound was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent hall.

He studied it for a long time, as if trying to grind all his humiliation and anger into this small inkstone.

Zhou Yang stood there, patiently waiting. The guards behind him stood like silent statues, their metal armor reflecting a cold, eerie light.

Finally, Emperor Wei stopped. He picked up his brush, dipped it fully in ink, and with a slight tremor of his wrist, a drop of ink fell onto the silk, spreading into a small black blot.

He took a deep breath, calmed himself, and began to write.

His calligraphy was excellent, a standard official script, neat and powerful. But at this moment, every stroke, every line, exuded a sense of utter exhaustion and powerlessness.

"I, the Emperor of Great Wei, have made an agreement with the Garrison Commander Zhou Yang..."

He wrote down the terms as he dictated them.

"First, effective immediately, thirty-six prefectures, including Anyang Prefecture, are designated as the Zhouyang Autonomous Territory. Within this territory, military, political, civil, and financial affairs are all under the autonomy of Zhouyang, and the imperial court will not interfere. This autonomous territory is called 'All Under Heaven'."

When he uttered the words "all under heaven," the Wei emperor's pen paused, almost tearing the silk. What immense ambition this was! But in the end, he continued writing.

When Zhou Yang heard the name "Tianxia", the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Secondly, every ten years, the imperial court shall pay a lifespan tax to all self-governing territories throughout the land. The amount of the tax shall be determined by Zhou Yang."

This is the most crucial point. Using the royal family's national fortune to extend Zhou Yang's lifespan is tantamount to handing over half of one's life to Zhou Yang.

"Third, neither side shall interfere in the affairs of the other's territories. The imperial court shall not use troops against the autonomous territories, nor shall the autonomous territories interfere in the affairs of the imperial court."

After writing these three points, Emperor Wei threw down his pen, as if he had used up his last bit of strength. He leaned back on the dragon throne, panting heavily.

The old eunuch quickly picked up the written silk scroll, used two ivory sticks to spread it open, and respectfully presented it to Zhou Yang.

"Lord Zhou... please take a look."

Zhou Yang did not go to pick it up.

He didn't even glance at the silk scroll.

He simply turned his head to look at Qin Shuang, who had been standing behind him.

"Shuang'er, look."

His tone was casual, as if he were telling her to go to the market to buy a cabbage and check its quality.

Qin Shuang nodded and stepped forward. She took out a pair of thin deerskin gloves from her bosom and slowly put them on. The movement was slow and delicate, carrying an indescribable elegance.

She didn't touch the silk scroll, but instead leaned closer and read it word by word.

Her gaze was cold, as if she were dissecting a corpse.

Everyone in the hall held their breath. They couldn't understand why Zhou Yang would allow a woman to review this treaty, one that could change the fate of the nation. But no one dared to ask.

Qin Shuang stared at it for a long time.

After a while, Emperor Wei's forehead began to sweat again.

Finally, she straightened up and looked at Zhou Yang. Her gaze held no questions, only a statement.

"Okay." She only said two words.

The Wei emperor's body visibly relaxed.

But Qin Shuang hadn't finished speaking.

"However, one more point needs to be added."

Emperor Wei's heart, which had just settled, was now in suspense again. He stared intently at Qin Shuang, fearing that she might utter some more deadly terms.

Qin Shuang ignored him and continued to look at Zhou Yang, speaking in a flat and straightforward tone.

"The draft only states 'no interference in territorial affairs,' but it doesn't define the scope of 'affairs.'" She extended her gloved hand, her fingertip pointing to the words on the silk. "For example, the imperial court could set up checkpoints on official roads outside the autonomous territories and collect heavy taxes. In that case, all trade routes in the world would be cut off. We would become an isolated island."

She paused, then continued.

"For example, the imperial court can station large armies on the borders of autonomous territories, ostensibly for defense and bandit suppression, but in reality for containment. We don't interfere with them, but they can interfere with us at any time."

Zhou Yang listened and nodded. He had thought of these things, but he knew that Qin Shuang would explain them more clearly and professionally.

Qin Shuang's gaze swept over the emperor, whose face had turned deathly pale once again, as he sat on the throne.

"Therefore, a fourth point should be added."

She raised her eyes, her gaze sharp as a knife.

"The reciprocal clause for security taxes. Any commercial road taxes or pass taxes levied by the Imperial Court outside the autonomous territories shall be paid 30% to the autonomous territories. Similarly, if any goods from the autonomous territories enter the territory of the Imperial Court, they shall also pay 30% security taxes to the Imperial Court in accordance with this rule."

"Furthermore, neither side may station more than three thousand troops within fifty miles of the border, except for forces maintaining order."

After he finished speaking, the hall fell into a deathly silence.

Emperor Wei's lips trembled; he wanted to say something, but couldn't utter a single word.

This clause is more ruthless than the previous three combined. It's no longer a matter of non-interference; it demands that the imperial court hand over half of its financial lifeline. This is tantamount to dividing the entire Great Wei Dynasty in two, yet binding them together with a single rope.

He looked at Zhou Yang, his eyes filled with pleading.

Zhou Yang seemed not to notice. He simply lowered his head to think for a moment, then smiled at Qin Shuang.

"very good."

He turned his head and looked at the old eunuch.

"Did you hear that? Add it."

The old eunuch dared not move; he looked at the emperor.

Emperor Wei closed his eyes. Two streams of turbid tears slid down his cheeks. He waved his hand, his voice barely audible, like the buzzing of a mosquito.

"...Add it, let's add it."

The old eunuch then cautiously picked up another pen, dipped it in ink, and carefully added the fourth point dictated by Qin Shuang to the end of the silk.

After finishing writing, he picked up the silk scroll again and handed it to Zhou Yang.

This time, Zhou Yang reached out and took it.

He pulled the Imperial Guard's command sword from his waist and, with the tip, pierced his fingertip with a "plop." A drop of blood seeped out.

Without the slightest hesitation, he pressed the drop of blood onto the end of the silk, above the two characters "Zhou Yang".

Then, he handed the knife to Qin Shuang.

Qin Shuang took it and used the same method to prick her fingertip and press her own blood mark.

After doing all this, Zhou Yang gently placed the bloodstained "Ding Yue" on the imperial desk, right in front of Emperor Wei.

"Your Majesty, please."

His voice remained calm.

Emperor Wei stared at the covenant, still stained with the blood of Zhou Yang and Qin Shuang. The blood was bright red, glaringly so, like two flames that would never be extinguished.

He picked up the pen with trembling hands and drew a bloody signature at the end of his name.

After doing all this, he seemed to have all his strength drained away, collapsing onto the dragon throne, staring blankly at the caisson ceiling of the palace.

There was a golden dragon painted there, coiling and soaring. But now, it looked so ridiculous.

Zhou Yang picked up the "Ding Yue" (a set of documents), didn't even glance at the emperor, and turned to leave.

He shouldered the command sword, and his footsteps echoed again in the hall.

"Tap, tap, tap."

It's like tolling the death knell for this old era.