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

dead.

A single word, like an imperial edict.

The bluestone slab beneath Zhou Yang's feet instantly turned into mud. A stench assaulted his nostrils. It wasn't the smell of soil, but the stench of rotting corpses.

Countless pale arms emerged from the mud. Their fingers were bent, their nails black. They clawed at Zhou Yang's ankles and calves, trying to drag him into this land of death.

The Imperial Advisor's face wore a smug look, like a cat playing with a mouse.

Zhou Yang's pupils contracted sharply. His body had no time to think; instinct had already kicked in.

System! Burn-in life!

The panel lit up in my mind.

Life expectancy remaining: 1 year and 4 days

Please enter the burn time.

He did not hesitate.

"One year!"

boom!

A surge of searing power exploded from his heart. It instantly flowed through his limbs and bones, like molten iron surging through his veins.

The "Shattered Star" technique was activated to its maximum potential on its own.

A faint crackling sound emanated from Zhou Yang's body. That was his sinews, bones, and flesh being forcibly tempered by this immense power. A faint reddish halo visibly appeared on his skin.

The feeling was like being pulled out of a sea of ​​fire. My very soul trembled.

The arms that reached for his arm sizzled the moment they touched the halo of light. White smoke billowed up. The arms, as if doused with concentrated sulfuric acid, instantly curled up, charred black, and shrank back into the mud.

Zhou Yang pushed off with both feet.

Mud flew everywhere. He was thrown into the air and landed on a rooftop ten feet away.

He was breathing heavily. Each breath carried the stench of blood. For a fleeting moment, he felt as if he had truly died. A year of lifespan exchanged for three breaths of peak power. Was it worth it? He had no time to think about it now.

He looked up at the altar.

The unexpected happened at that moment.

The bronze cauldron above the altar, its swirling black smoke and purple aura suddenly halted. The cauldron groaned as if it could no longer bear the weight.

Immediately afterwards, a beam of black light shot straight into the sky from the mouth of the cauldron.

The sky has cracked open.

It wasn't the dispersal of dark clouds, nor the flash of lightning. It was a real crack. A fissure appeared out of nowhere in the night sky above. The crack wasn't deep; inside was pure darkness. No light, no stars. Like a curtain being torn open, revealing an empty wall behind it.

The entire room fell silent.

Everyone looked up, forgetting to breathe. The crack had a magical power that made it impossible to look away.

The Grand Preceptor's ecstatic smile froze on his face. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The Holy Maiden's dagger remained suspended in mid-air, her eyes filled with horror.

Within a radius of a hundred miles, the heartbeats of all living beings seemed to be paused at this moment.

Then, a hand reached out from the crack.

It was disproportionately large. The protruding part alone was thicker than the bronze cauldron of the altar. Its skin was covered with fine scales. Not the scales of any wild beast. They were jet black, gleaming with a cold metallic sheen. In the moonlight, the edges of each scale shimmered with a ghostly purple light.

What's most chilling is the sight of eyes covering the arms.

Compound eyes.

Densely packed, like a honeycomb. Each compound eye slowly rotated. They possessed neither the majesty to look down upon all living beings, nor overwhelming demonic energy. They simply observed. Cold, indifferent. Like a farmer examining the crops in his field.

A pressure descended without warning.

It was not wind, nor air. It was a pure will. It enveloped the entire city of Anyang.

An old master of the Hundred Battles Realm, standing not far from the altar, suddenly looked up and met one of the compound eyes.

The next moment, his body froze.

His expression was calm. There was no pain, no struggle. Those once bright and piercing eyes quickly lost their luster and became cloudy, like two beads covered in dust.

He fell straight backward.

With a thud.

There was another corpse on the ground. His mind was shattered; he was beyond dead.

Another expert at the Hundred Battles Realm let out a piercing scream. He clutched his head and banged it against the ground like a madman. Blood and brain matter mingled, staining the bluestone slabs red. He seemed to be using this pain to fight against the will from beyond the heavens.

Useless.

He slammed the object a dozen times, his body twitched a few times, and then he stopped moving.

Ordinary martial artists, soldiers, and civilians were even more vulnerable. Some knelt on the ground, tears streaming down their faces, muttering incoherently. Some foamed at the mouth and fainted on the spot. Many more stood frozen, as if their souls had been ripped out, becoming living corpses.

This is the Celestial Messenger.

A mere descending arm, a single will, rendered a Grandmaster of the Hundred Battles Realm as insignificant as a clay chicken or a clay dog.

Zhou Yang stood on the rooftop, his body ice-cold. He felt like a rabbit being watched by a giant eagle. The eagle hadn't even deliberately targeted him; that unconscious "gaze" made him feel as if everything about him was laid bare. Martial arts, techniques, thoughts, lifespan… nothing was a secret to him.

His hands, gripping the Dragonspine Sword, were covered in cold sweat.

This is something he can't contend with. Burning away a year's lifespan isn't enough. Ten years? A hundred years? Perhaps that would be enough. But he doesn't have that many lives to burn.

run?

The thought had barely formed in his mind when he suppressed it. His will permeated the entire area. Where could he run? It was all the same – death.

The only way to survive lies in the festival itself.

Just then, the oppressive silence was broken.

The Imperial Advisor suddenly smiled.

The laughter wasn't loud, but it was sharp and piercing, like an awl stabbing into everyone's ears.

Unlike the others, he was not crushed by his will. He opened his arms, tilted his head back, and his face showed a morbid fanaticism and piety.

"Celestial Messenger!!"

My Lord!!!

He opened his arms wide, as if welcoming his god. His whole body was trembling, not from fear, but from excitement.

"The humble royal advisor offers you a sacrifice!"

"The souls of all people, the flesh and blood of believers! All are your ladder!"

The Grand Preceptor suddenly turned around. His magnificent robes fluttered even without wind. His gaze swept over the believers below the platform who had lost their will.

Those who had previously rushed fervently toward the altar now became his best sacrifices.

He clasped his hands together and muttered incantations. Ancient syllables flowed from his mouth, eerie and malevolent.

puff.

A believer standing at the very front suddenly burst into flames. The flames were black. They had no temperature, yet they devoured everything. The man didn't scream; instead, his face wore a look of blissful relief. His mouth was open, as if he were praising something. In a few breaths, he turned into a small clump of black ash.

puff!puff!puff!

Flames lit up one after another.

One believer after another turned to ashes in the black fire. Their flesh and souls transformed into wisps of extremely pure purple energy, which flowed into the crack in the sky and toward the enormous arm.

The compound eye on that arm seemed to be moving a little faster.

The Imperial Advisor sensed it. His laughter grew even more manic. He even began to undress himself, as if his next step was to sacrifice himself as well.

At this most insane moment.

Mutation and regeneration.

"You deserve to die!"

A cold, clear voice rang out.

She is a saint!

She moved.

The dagger, which had been hovering in mid-air, finally struck. But its target wasn't the Grand Preceptor's back; rather, it was the Grand Preceptor's hands, which were guiding the sacrifice and communicating with the celestial messenger!

A brilliant blue light shone from the dagger, accompanied by a clear dragon's roar. Its speed surpassed both sound and light.

At this moment, she was no longer a high and mighty saint. Instead, she was a venomous scorpion that would devour anyone it chose.

She wants to seize control!

The divine blood resides within the Imperial Advisor. If we kill the Imperial Advisor and obtain the divine blood, perhaps we can establish a new connection with this celestial envoy!

This was her last gamble.

The Imperial Advisor sensed the murderous intent. He turned around abruptly, a maniacal smile still on his face.

"Overestimating yourself!"

He didn't even try to block it with his hand. He just glanced up.

A powerful will erupted from him. It was not his own power, but a remnant that he had received from the celestial messenger.

hum.

The air seemed to freeze.

The saintess's dagger hovered an inch in front of the imperial advisor. It could not advance any further. She was completely blocked by an invisible wall.

Her internal energy was surging wildly, but it couldn't budge the barrier in the slightest.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yang stood on the rooftop, his heart pounding.

He watched the conflict between the Holy Maiden and the Imperial Preceptor, the terrifying arm in the sky, and the people below turning to ashes.

A crazy plan was rapidly taking shape in his mind.

This plan is extremely dangerous. It's a near-certain death situation.

But it might be his only chance of survival.

He stared intently at the Grand Preceptor's back. There, beneath his robes, seemed to be a strange red light.

Divine blood.

His gaze became incredibly intense.