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

Deep within the death row, there is no light.

Only an oil lamp sat at the end of the stone-paved passageway. Its dim light flickered in the damp draft, casting distorted images of water stains on the walls into the shapes of human faces.

Zhou Yang stepped down the last step.

The boot soles slammed onto the sticky stone slabs with a dull thud. A musty, stale stench filled the air, like pig iron soaked in salt water for three months, mixed with the smell of mud and rotting flesh. The smell wasn't overpowering, but it seeped into one's very bones.

He raised his head, his gaze piercing through the darkness and landing in the center of the cell.

There hung a rack. Two thick iron chains hung from the top, their ends fastened with brass rings that were deeply embedded in two pieces of white bone—human collarbones.

Qin Shuang was hanging there.

Her arms were tied behind her back and hoisted up, her entire weight supported by the two iron chains piercing her collarbone. The once famous Jinyiwei flying fish uniform that was renowned throughout Anyang County was now just a tattered rag hanging on her body. The blue and white fabric was no longer recognizable as its original color, soaked in dark red bloodstains, dried, and then seeping new blood.

She kept her head down. Her long black hair fell down, covering most of her face.

Zhou Yang stopped in front of the fence.

The iron bars were as thick as a wrist, covered with densely packed runes. The runes glowed with a faint, dark light, like tightly coiled nooses, completely isolating the cell from the outside world.

The two jailers guarding the door turned around. They were dressed in standard black uniforms, with whips and keys hanging from their waists, their eyes numb and indifferent.

"Who goes there?" The jailer on the left frowned, his gaze sweeping over Zhou Yang's Blood Shadow Guard black robes before finally settling on the silver mask. "This is the Demon Suppression Division's death row, where serious criminals are imprisoned. Without the Commander's order, no one may—"

Zhou Yang raised his right hand.

He had a token between his fingers.

The token was dark red, with a ferocious "blood" character branded on it. It was the Blood Shadow Guard's identification badge, which he had taken from the corpse in the abandoned royal palace.

The two jailers exchanged a glance.

The name of the Blood Shadow Guards was not unfamiliar to the Demon Suppression Division. They were the Imperial Preceptor's private army, always obeying only one person, acting in secrecy, and using ruthless methods. Not to mention the jailers guarding the death row, even the commanders of the Demon Suppression Division would give the Blood Shadow Guards some leeway.

"So it's Lord Blood Shadow." The jailer on the right adopted a respectful expression, bowing deeply. "May I ask what business brings you here so late at night, sir?"

Zhou Yang did not speak.

He merely glanced at the two of them indifferently with his eyes hidden behind the mask. Then he retrieved the token and stepped forward.

The two jailers instinctively took a half step back, making way for the cell door.

Zhou Yang walked to the door and stopped. His hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist—a standard longsword he had taken from the zombie soldiers, the bronze ornaments on the scabbard gleaming coldly in the lamplight.

"Open him." His voice was hoarse, a deliberately lowered tone. "I'm going to interrogate this prisoner."

The jailer hesitated for a moment: "Sir, this prisoner is a serious offender. There are orders from above that no one may—"

"I said, open it."

Zhou Yang turned his head.

The two dark holes in the mask were directly facing the jailer's face. He didn't move, but a chilling aura seeped out from under the black robe, like a cold snake crawling up the jailer's nape.

The jailer shivered.

"Yes...yes."

He frantically pulled out the key and inserted it into the lock. The chains rattled, and the heavy cell door was pulled open.

Zhou Yang stepped into the prison cell.

Behind him, the iron gate closed again.

He didn't rush towards Qin Shuang, but first looked around. The cell wasn't large, with stone walls on three sides and iron bars on the front. In the corner, there was a pile of moldy straw, and a rat with a broken leg scurried out of the straw, squeaking as it disappeared into a crack in the wall.

There are no instruments of torture here. Because the instrument of torture is Qin Shuang herself.

Zhou Yang walked up to her.

The two were no more than three steps apart. At that distance, he could see every inch of her skin marked with welts—whip marks, burns, cuts. Some had scabbed over, others were still bleeding. Three of her fingernails had been pulled out, revealing dark purple flesh beneath.

He remained silent for a moment.

Then, he reached out and gently lifted Qin Shuang's chin with two fingers.

"So this is the renowned commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard?" His voice remained hoarse, carrying a hint of disdain and a touch of amusement. "What, you don't even raise an eyebrow when you see me?"

Qin Shuang's head was forced to tilt back.

Her lips were cracked and bleeding. Her face was covered in blood and dust, making her features almost unrecognizable. Only her eyes remained remarkably bright.

In those eyes, there was no fear, no pleading, only an almost deathly indifference, and... disgust.

She recognized the black robe.

Blood Shadow Guard.

The Grand Tutor's lackey.

"Kill me if you must." Her voice was soft, but every word was clear. "No need to waste words."

Zhou Yang's fingers paused.

In those eyes, he saw true resolve. It was a composure born from a disregard for life and death. She knew her situation, knew what being in these people's hands meant. But she had no intention of bowing her head.

I have no intention of begging.

Zhou Yang withdrew his hand.

He took a half step back, turned to the side, and faced away from the iron bars of the cell door. His wide black robe blocked most of the light, casting a shadow in front of Qin Shuang.

Then he spoke.

The voice was no longer deliberately hoarse, but had returned to its original tone, light and airy, like two acquaintances bumping into each other on the street.

Five hundred taels.

Qin Shuang's eyelashes trembled.

Zhou Yang took out a handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped his fingers that had just touched her chin. His movements were casual, but his voice was earnest.

"Five hundred taels of silver for your life." He casually tossed the handkerchief onto the straw at his feet. "The deal, take it or leave it?"

Qin Shuang's pupils suddenly contracted.

Her muscles tensed instantly. The chains on her collarbone made a screeching sound, and blood gushed out from the wound again.

She stared intently at the person in front of her.

Those eyes—

Behind the holes in the silver mask, those eyes held a mixture of three parts mockery and seven parts seriousness. A cynical smile, and a sharpness honed on the edge of life and death.

She recognized him.

It was something she was familiar with.

"week……"

Just as she was about to speak, Zhou Yang raised a finger and put it to his lips, making a shushing gesture.

"Shhh."

He turned his head slightly and glanced at the iron bars behind him out of the corner of his eye. The two jailers stood outside the door, and although they were some distance apart, their eyes never left the cell.

Qin Shuang immediately understood.

She gritted her teeth and swallowed back the words that welled up on her tongue. But her eyes reddened at that moment.

She thought she was going to die here.

She imagined herself being tortured to death in the dead of night, or being turned into a mindless puppet by the so-called imperial advisor. She was already prepared.

But she didn't expect him to come.

This bastard who only talks about "more money," this sly fox who is always calculating his own interests, actually broke into the Demon Suppression Division's death row.

"How could you...?"

Her voice trembled. Not from fear, but from an overwhelming, suppressed excitement.

Zhou Yang did not answer the question.

His gaze fell on Qin Shuang's collarbone, where the chains had rubbed raw and bloody. His brow furrowed slightly, but quickly relaxed.

"Alright, enough with the nonsense."

He took out a small porcelain bottle from under his black robe. It contained a wound medicine he had scavenged in the underground palace; although not a rare treasure, it was more than enough to stop bleeding and heal wounds. He placed the porcelain bottle on the straw at Qin Shuang's feet.

Listen.

His voice was so low that only two people could hear it.

"We can talk about saving you later. But right now, there's something you must tell me."

He raised his head and looked directly into Qin Shuang's eyes.

"What's being held captive on the third basement level of the Demon Suppression Division?"

Qin Shuang's breath hitched for a moment.

She looked into Zhou Yang's eyes and saw a carefully considered plan. She didn't know how Zhou Yang knew about the existence of the third underground level, but she knew that since he asked, he must have his reasons.

"A beast."

Her voice was also very low, as if it were being squeezed out from between her teeth.

"Earthly Fiend Beast."

"The Imperial Advisor's backup plan. He wants to use my Profound Yin Physique to refine that beast." A ruthless glint flashed in her eyes. "If I can be rescued... that beast must die. Otherwise, once it breaks free, the entire Demon Suppression Division will become its hunting ground."

Zhou Yang narrowed his eyes slightly.

Earthly Fiend Beast.

He had seen too many strange things in the underground palace: corpse soldiers, blood cicadas, and tentacles of will. But this so-called Earthly Fiend Beast, judging from its name, was no benevolent creature.

Where is it?

"The deepest part of the third underground level." A fine layer of sweat beaded on Qin Shuang's forehead, and the sharp pain in her collarbone made her voice tremble. "Go back through this passage, and at the end there's a hidden door. It's sealed; only someone with the rank of a thousand-household commander or higher in the Demon Suppression Division can open it..."

Before she could finish speaking, footsteps suddenly came from outside the cell door.

Zhou Yang reacted extremely quickly.

He flashed forward, instantly closing the distance to Qin Shuang's side, his back to the iron bars, using his wide black robe to conceal the gap between them. He placed his hand on Qin Shuang's shoulder, adopting an interrogation posture.

"Tell me, who are your accomplices?"

His voice regained its hoarseness, just loud enough for the jailer outside the door to hear.

The footsteps stopped outside the cell door.

A jailer's voice came in: "Sir, it's getting late. Shall we continue the interrogation?"

Zhou Yang turned around.

His black robe drew an arc as he turned, perfectly concealing the bottle of wound medicine in shadow.

"What's the rush?"

His tone was impatient. "I've only just begun."

The jailer sheepishly retreated, "Yes, yes, sir, please take your time with the interrogation. We'll wait outside."

The footsteps faded into the distance.

Zhou Yang turned back to look at Qin Shuang.

Her face was as white as a sheet, and sweat trickled down her cheeks, dripping onto the tattered pieces of her flying fish robe. Those words had almost exhausted all her strength.

"Can you hold on?"

His voice was soft, devoid of any cynicism.

Qin Shuang took a deep breath, used all her strength, and squeezed out a single word.

"OK."

Zhou Yang stared at her face for a moment.

Then, he made a decision.

"good."

He reached for his waist and grasped the black iron ring.

"Now that you've told me your cards, I have to show you some sincerity too."

He leaned close to Qin Shuang's ear, lowering his voice to the lowest possible level.

"What I'm about to do might cause a huge commotion. You need to be prepared to weather the storm the moment it starts."

Qin Shuang's eyes widened slightly.

"you want……"

"Release that Earthly Fiend Beast?" Zhou Yang sneered. "Why not?"

He straightened up, his gaze falling on the iron chain on Qin Shuang's collarbone.

Those chains weren't ordinary iron; they were engraved with runes that imprisoned true energy. With his current strength, it would be virtually impossible for him to break them without alerting the jailers.

But he doesn't need to untie it.

All he needs to do is create chaos.

"Five hundred taels." He repeated the number again, a hint of flippancy in his voice. "This is a friend's price. You owe me, you can pay me back slowly later."

Qin Shuang looked at him.

She wanted to say something, but all the words stuck in her throat. In the end, she just moved her lips and mouthed two words.

"careful."

Zhou Yang's lips curved into a smile.

He didn't say anything more, but turned around and strode towards the cell door.

His silhouette was stretched long in the dim light, his black robe resembling a blade cleaving through the darkness.

He stopped in front of the door.

"Wait."

He didn't turn around.

The iron railings cast long shadows behind him, and his figure gradually disappeared at the end of the passageway.

Qin Shuang hung there, watching the direction he left in.

In her eyes, the deathly stillness finally cracked open.

Light is shining in.